Page 24 of Awestruck at Dusk
“And William jumped right into it, of course. Inhiseyes, I was taking Joel away from him, so now he’d take Zara away from me just to even the score.
“And now that I’ve talked to William, I’m convinced this whole thing with you hasn’t been anything but a continuation of this—ongoing, passive-aggressive battle between us that’s been perpetuated through the years. It’s childish as fuck if you ask me, and I have played my part too, as much as it hurts to admit.”
Nathan unknowingly nuked my heart. Listening to the determination with which he said those things—it hurt. I knew he was speaking from experience, assuming things that had probably checked out in the past. But again, he didn’t know William’s true feelings for me, and now … neither did I.
I knew nothing.
“It’s so strange. We’re almost thirty, and my dynamic with William turns me into this angry, unstable adolescent chap again,” he continued, draining his wineglass. I mirrored his move and set mine on the coffee table again.
“William has a special talent to pull that out of me, to connect with that. And we haven’t been able to disengage. But my fear now is that Zara might get hurt. I know how she is. Shedivesinto things. All in. Wholeheartedly. And I’m afraid she might get hurt in the process because I don’t really know what thebleeding hellis going on between them.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I said, wanting to believe the words myself. “Once you talk to her tomorrow, you’ll feel more at ease.”
The doorbell rang, and Nathan shot up from his seat and opened the door. Our food had arrived. He greeted David, paid the delivery guy, and came back inside, pushing the door shut with his foot.
We sat down to eat and uncorked another bottle of wine. Well, Nathan did. I kept the wine flowing on both of our glasses as the self-designated bartender that I set myself to be for the night.
The mood lightened up dramatically during our meal. We both needed to change the subject. So I talked to Nathan about my photo shoot at the Ballet, and the three beautiful ballerinas we met. The photographs turned out amazing. I promised to show them to him some other day.
As soon as we were done with dinner, something stirred deep inside me, as if someone would’ve gone inside my head and turned the lights out.
A profound and nostalgic sadness invaded me, and the unregistered amount of wine I drank only amplified the downhearted feeling.
Before Nathan could notice the shift in my energy, I stood up and cleared the table. He excused himself to the bathroom as I took the dirty dishes to the kitchen, where I decided to wash them to empty my mind.
I didn’t even know the exact reason for my sadness. I sure had a lot from where to pick and choose, but what I mean is that I didn’t have something particular in mind that was making me feel this way, rather than an overall numbness that weighed on my mind.
Buried deep in my thoughts as I washed the dishes, I felt two arms surrounding my body. I let out a short but loud shriek, followed by the sound of a broken plate.
“Shit. I-I’m sorry,” I said, kneeling on the floor, picking up the pieces. Nathan talked to me, apologized, asked me to stand up, but I ignored him. Not intentionally; his voice was far away. I could only focus on picking up the shards of ceramic.
“Murph.”
I had a pile of the bigger pieces set to the side and stood up to fetch a bag to discard them and a broom to sweep the smaller remains.
“Murph, let me help you.”
My cast was getting in the way, and I couldn’t hold the broom correctly. Nathan seized my arm gently and made me stop. He grabbed both of my arms to get my attention and directed his gaze at me, studying my face. “I’lldo it.” He enunciated those three words slowly as if realizing I was far away, and he had to demand my attention back somehow.
It worked.
My face scrunched up. I looked down, and a sob escaped my throat, followed by heavy tears that fell from my eyes to the floor without touching my face.
Nathan cupped my chin up with two delicate fingers and placed his arms around me. We stood like that for a while until he led me to my room.
Neither of us spoke a word.
He knew I was having trouble dealing with everything that had happened a few weeks ago. And my conversation with him about Zara and the things he revealed to me about his family had hit me hard too. It left me punch-drunk.
Nathan helped me out of my clothes and placed one of his t-shirts he kept in my place over my head. He walked up to my bed and undid it. He then offered his hand to pull me in, and I took it.
I crawled into my bed and rested my head on my cool puffy pillows, watching him strip off his clothes until he wore nothing but his boxer briefs. He then walked around the bed and spooned me.
He kissed my hair a few times, and without saying a word, I shut my eyes and allowed myself to grieve with him by my side—to feel it all pouring down and soaking off into the floor of my mind. He seemed like he needed this too. The stillness. The warmth.
How could I ever let him go?
Quiet
