Page 13 of Someone Like You

He stepped off the elevator on the twentieth floor, leaving me standing back there with my jaw dropped.

“You coming, or you gonna catch a mouthful of flies for the residents of The Vista?”

I quickly followed him into the marble foyer. We stepped inside to wenge hardwood flooring, crystal chandeliers, sweeping panoramic views with natural light, soaring twelve-foot ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows, private terraces off the living room, and the master suite. Aside from the master suite, there were two guest bedrooms, both with a private bathroom, a den, a half bath, a kitchen, a living room, a dining area, and a great room. Every bedroom had a walk-in closet.

“These residences are set at the corner of the tower to give the best view possible in thirty-six-hundred square feet of space. You’ve checked it out from end to end, including the high-end kitchen. Tell me what you think?”

“Man. I gotta sign in blood for this?” I asked, looking around at the magnificent penthouse.

He chuckled. “Four and a quarter.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Nope. But she’s willing to let it go for my best friend for three and a quarter.” That was six and a half million less than our home cost. It was steep but definitely worth my peace of mind.

I whistled. “That’s a steal.”

“Damn right, it is.”

“Still. I need time to sleep on it.”

“You do that, but don’t sleep too long, pah’na.”

“Forty-eight hours?”

“Yeah. That’s cool. In the meantime, watch your back. You know you’re in deep with that posse of yours.”

“Man, don’t I know it.”

We dapped it up before I headed out. I had a lot of things to think about.

Giselle

Islid one cotton-candy-colored toenail from underneath the bubbles. Just one that I wiggled ever so slightly. Slowly, I allowed the other four to slide up the smooth walls of the Roman tub. Turning the jets off, I slid down slightly and allowed the heat from the water to soothe my aching muscles.

My muscles were sore from the hour and a half workout I had done after leaving the office, trying to chase away my demons. The workout had not helped, so I grabbed a bottle of wine and some Indian cuisine on the way home.

The bottle of wine that I had mostly consumed, and even carried to the bathroom with me, was calling my name again. I knew that I would pay for it tomorrow, but I didn’t care. After all, the office was closed on Fridays, and I could sleep in and then catch up on my administrative workload in the afternoon.

It would be so easy to succumb to my thoughts. The guilt and the shame that had stretched its tentacles toward me throughout the day, which I had pushed to the recesses of the darkness, now grabbed at me. I had no strength to fight it. Tears drenched my face as I reached up and pulled the tightly coiled twists down and allowed them to drape around my shoulders and become soaked by the water and bubbles.

I gripped the edges of the tub with my nails. After several seconds, I pulled them away and covered my face with my hands. The sobs shook my body as I screamed in the confines of my bathroom. “I’m so sooorry!” I cried out.

Grief could be an unpredictable enemy. It crept upon you in the most unexpected ways, clutching you and rendering you weak. You would question your sanity if you could withstand the power of its grip. Sometimes, you would have to find the strength you did not know you had to rise and gasp for air. Often, the power it held over you made you feel as if you could not breathe. That was my battle at that moment.

The intrusive ringing of the phone, like a nosy neighbor ringing the doorbell, poured through the speakers of my bathroom. Someone had dared peek into my bedroom and assumed I was having a personal pity party. Someone had dared to want to enter my dungeon and intrude upon such a private and intimate time. Who that uninvited guest was, I had no idea, nor did I care.

I picked up the picture frame that I had laid on the chair beside the tub upon stepping in. My fingers trailed a loving path over the features that were etched into my brain, the ones I felt I had spent a lifetime loving. I thought my love could save Elijah.

We had known one another since college and had been close friends, dating off and on. It wasn’t until twenty-four that we began a committed relationship, marrying four years later at twenty-eight. Yet, all the love I poured into our relationship and his heart had not been enough to save him from the darkness of depression.

In the end, he had taken his life behind the precinct in his car at the end of his shift. He had cuddled up in the rear of the dark parking lot and made a lasting memory with his service revolver just as his captain stepped out of his car.

I stood up and set the picture back down on the chair. Grabbing my towel, I wrapped it around myself before picking the picture up again and heading into my bedroom. Not bothering to dry or oil my body, my normal routine, I lay on the bed and curled into a ball.

Wretched sobs were pulled from deep within as I cried out to the love of my life.

“Why, Elijah? Why’d you leave me?”

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