Page 88 of Broken Pieces
My hope.
The love of my fucking life.
Being with someone who cares about me and puts me as a priority in their life is a strange, unique feeling. One I can’t explain. Is this what being wanted and cared for feels like?
After the lunch we had with my mother, which was a disaster—and that’s putting it mildly—we decided to definitely take the rest of the day off and stay inside.
I’ve never cried so hard in my life, and I’ve never thought I would feel so much lighter after making such a life-changing decision. The thing about loving someone so narcissistic is that you don’t know how to cut them off, or how to make them stop taking from you and pulling the fire in you away. And I don’t think I would have ever allowed myself to completely cut my mother off forever ifit weren’t for Damian. Even though we hadn’t communicated in years, the door was always open. Now? Completely shut. Not going back ever again.
My head rests on his chest as we lay in bed, just staring at the ceiling in silence. The sound of his even heartbeat fills my ears, our breathing syncing.
My head snaps up, looking at him as I break the silence. “You really meant it, didn’t you?”
His gaze meets mine, knowingly. I don’t need to clarify what I’m asking. He knows damn well what that question represents.
“Yes,Tesoro. I meant it. Every word.”
That he would be there for me, always. That he’ll catch me if I fall. There’s no doubt anymore, because today, he proved himself. He knew I was falling; drowning, and he kept his promise. Stood up for me and gave me enough courage for me to actually stand up for myself, too.
My mouth dries, the emotions clogging my throat. There are many things I want to say.
He shakes his head. “Don’t.”
My voice trembles. “I-I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
He grabs my hand, placing a soft kiss and interlacing our fingers. “I have you, and that’s all I need. And if anything, I should be thanking you. Allowing me to see this part of your life made me realize some things of my own.”
I sit up, dropping my head against the headboard, looking at him. “What do you mean?”
“Seeing your mother act like this, it did something to me. God, I’ve never been so angry. But it also made me realize that I need to open up to you.” He sighs, sitting up and dropping his head against the headboard too. “Because even though the circumstances fucking suck, you and I are more similar than you think.”
Thinning my lips, I nod. Somehow, this confession doesn’t phase me. To me, it’s no secret the mask Damian places for the world. It’s never fooled me.
“My father and I never had a good relationship, and that broke me. It broke me so fucking much.” His voice trembles at his confession. “Imagine me, an 11-year-old kid who had no idea why his father despised him, belittled him. Then, the hurt turned into hatred the older I became, because I realized he simply didn’t like me for who I was. He hated the kindness he saw in me. Saw me as weak. When he died, I didn’t feel sad. I felt anger; resentment.” He closes his eyes and gulps, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill over.
My hand finds his jaw, caressing it. “Don’t hold anything back, Damian. Please. I’m here.”
He inhales sharply, nodding. “All the stories you’ve seen and heard about me, it’s not me. Today, when I saw how different you acted around your mother, it made me realize that version of me is the one I created for my father. I wasso determined to prove him wrong, I became someone I’m fucking not. Even though he isn’t even here to witness it.”
His confession breaks my heart. This man before me, right now, isn’t Damian theadult. It’s Damian thekid, the one that has been so lost; sad; angry. The one that wanted to make his father so proud, that he ended up becoming someone he’s not proud of. And I understand so much about what he means, because that’s the thing about being around someone that makes you feel like the best parts of yourself are the worst. You become weak and useless around them; sometimes, to the point that you don’t even recognize yourself anymore.
I squeeze his hand reassuringly with a nod, wanting him to continue. To let it all out.
His tears stream down his cheeks now, one by one, his voice barely above a whisper. “And don’t get me wrong… making it my life’s mission to demonstrate I’m not weak, that I could make it in life is what allowed me to, well… makeit. But at what cost? I’ve been alone my whole life. I don’t know what it feels like to be loved; to be cared for, all because of someone who is not even here anymore, and that I’m pretty sure wouldn’t have cared if he were. I lost myself along the way for nothing.”
My tears are the ones falling down my face now. My heart hurts for him, for his past self. Anger boils within me knowing he’s been alone all this time, battling his own demons. A sense of protectiveness overtakes me, becauseI’m the one that wants to show him those things. Love him. Take care of him. Make him see he’s not alone in this world. That he can rely on someone and let me catch him if he falls for once.
Wiping my tears, I sit up on the bed and grab his face and kiss him with all the longing and the need I can muster. He wraps his hands around my waist and brings me into a hug. And he hugs,hard. He hugs like I’m his anchor and he wants nothing more than to get out from underneath the water, to stop drowning. And I’d gladly be that. His anchor; his lifeline—because he’s mine too.
Breaking up the kiss, he places a soft kiss on my neck, whispering, “Thank you. For listening, for—”
“Don’t. You don’t have to thank me. I’m here, Damian.Always.”
The gala is happening this weekend. I’m a nervous wreck and have been on work mode pretty much nonstop. We never found the last statement piece, and I’ve been trying to not beat myself up about it, but the anxiety has been slowly creeping in and I’m finding it more difficult everyday. The feeling of failure is one that nags at me the most. It’s one that has been looming around me pretty much my whole life. Damian, on the other hand, isn’t tooconcerned—which is so strange— and it’s another thing I’m trying my best to ignore. I’m still trying, even though realistically speaking, I can’t find and secure one in time. But, I’m nothing if not persistent.
“I think I have a lead,” I say as my way of greeting, entering his office.
He looks up with a frown. “What are you talking about?”
