Beckham

I haven’t seen Sully since he dropped me off in the garage yesterday. He hasn’t answered my calls or texts, and he hasn’t been home. I know, because I’ve been sitting on the floor outside his apartment waiting for him. I slept here last night, and other than going into my place to use the bathroom, I haven’t left. I didn’t eat last night, or this morning, but I don’t feel hungry. I feel hurt, angry, and scared, and I just need to see him.

When the elevator dings, I jump up, because we’re the only two on this floor right now. As Nev walks into the hall, my shoulder sag in defeat.

“Where is he?”

“Nowhere he should be.”

“Is he coming back?”

Here? To me? I don’t ask those questions, because she knows what I mean.

“I don’t know.”

“I tried to fight them.”

“I know.”

“What can I do? What should I have done? I should’ve never taken him there.”

She grips my shoulders, and looks me in the eye. “You can’t beat yourself up, Beckham. It happened, and you did exactly what you needed to. You stood up for my brother, and no matter what happens, that is important.”

“He doesn’t think so.”

“Yes, he does. He won’t admit it, because he’s hurting right now, but when he comes to his senses, he will.”

“Is that a guess, or do you really believe it?”

“Both.”

“I’m not going to stop observing Ramadan,” I blurt out.

“Good.”

“What are you taking?”

She doesn’t want to answer. I can tell she wants to get away with not answering, but in the end, she does.

“Just the food. He’s already left the country.”

I stagger back, as if she’s physically punched me instead of just landing a mental blow. “I-I’ll leave you alone.”

“He will not cheat on you. No matter what pictures you see of him, or what you hear, know that.”

“You can’t know that.”

“You can. You know.”

I leave her still standing in the hall as I escape into my apartment. I don’t make it far, sliding down the door as I let the despair take over. She’s right—I know that whatever’s going on with Sully, he wouldn’t cheat on me. Which presents me with a new problem.

Will he call me to break up with me, or just text me. Do I block him, so he can’t do it that way? Or do I accept what I know is coming? Can I accept it, knowing he’ll be with other women once he delivers the final blow?

My finger hovers over the command to block him, but I don’t tap it. My heart is telling me he might need me. If he needs me, I want him to be able to reach me. I have to let myself be available to him. I love him, and I won’t abandon him, even after he left me.

I lift myself up from the floor, and stand on my balcony, watching the sun set. When it’s disappeared from the sky, I make myself an omelet, realizing I won’t be good for anyone if I pass out from starvation. After, I finally shower, and sleep.

When the alarm goes off in the morning, I eat again, get dressed, and head into work. It’s really early, but I don’t want to be here, alone in my apartment, dwelling on everything.

I’m not surprised to see Bev and Matt already in the office, but they’re surprised to see me. “Beckham, why are you here so early?” she asks.

“I have some stuff going on personally, and I didn’t want to be alone. Work will keep my mind off it all.”

“Come on in, and talk to me,” Matt says, instructing Bev to hold his calls.

“Do you want me to leave, and come back?”

“No. I’m going to go out on a limb, and guess that Sully is why you’re here.”

“He’s gone.”

“I know.”

Of course, he does. How could he not know? “Yeah.”

“Nev explained what happened, and I want you to know Reina has some friends of hers keeping an eye on your parents. No one will harm them for being associated with you and Sully.”

“Thanks. I don’t think anyone would do something to them; everyone is pretty much more bark than bite, but I appreciate it.”

“There is a lot of fear, and hate, in this country right now, and we didn’t want to take a chance.”

“I’m so angry at them for worrying more about what people will think than about what’s right.”

“It’s hard to choose a side, but it’s also important. I don’t know your parents, so I can’t speak for them, but I want you to know I’m proud of you. For choosing a side, and standing up for him.”

“Where else would I stand?”

“Don’t give up on him. Please.”

The great Matt Corrigan is begging me for something. Women all over the world would die to be in my place, but I’d rather be with Sully.

“Nev said the same thing.”

“There is so much you need to know about their family, but I can’t be the one to tell you. Just try to wait for him. He’s going to do some stupid things, but he knows how amazing you are, and how lucky he is to have you.”

“He’s not doing a good job of showing it. He didn’t even say goodbye.” And, I still haven’t decided whether to block him, or not.

“I know.”

“Thanks for talking to me, and I’ll think about everything you’ve said. I just can’t make any promises until I know what I’m dealing with. If he texts me to break up, it’ll be over, because I know that means he’s going to fuck around.”

“Jesus.”

“You know it’s true.”

He nods. “I don’t believe he’s stupid enough to do that.”

“Time will tell.”

“I’m holding his internship, so I’ll have to move things around a little.”

“We’ll manage.”

“I know you will. And Beckham, I want to make sure you know I’m always available to you if you need me. Reina, too. Sully is family, and so are you.”

“Thanks.”

I walk back out to my desk, and start going through the phone messages. By the time the other assistants and interns make it in, I’m halfway through my emails as well. Coming in early might be my best work idea yet. I know it’s not a permanent solution, because I can’t escape Sully here, but it’s kept me busy for a morning. I have a feeling that’s the way to go with all of this.

One morning. One afternoon. One evening. One day at a time. One week at a time, if it comes to that. Maybe one month, but I hope to God he’s either back by then, or he’s cut me loose. I know which option I’m hoping for, but I’m going to start preparing myself for either outcome. I need to survive this, no matter what happens.

* * *

Sully

I once again leave the text as a draft. The one telling Beckham I don’t want to be with her anymore. I need to send it, and take advantage of the women here who want a piece of me, but I can’t. That piece of me—every piece of me—belongs to her, and only her. I can fly across the world, and pretend it doesn’t, but I know it does.

“Sully, man, let’s party!”

I nod to my British friend, although I won’t drink tonight. I’m not a strict Muslim, and I drink, but never during Ramadan. He wouldn’t understand it, because none of the people I hang with are Muslim, but it doesn’t matter. They all indulge me, because I’m footing the bill. I don’t know how I’m going to foot this bill when the credit card statement comes, but I’ll worry about it next month. Right now, I just need to play this game.

The one where I stay in all day, pretending to sleep, and party all night. I’m getting almost no sleep, but the ruse is working. I know I’ve been photographed, and I’m waiting for Beckham to send her own break-up text, but it hasn’t happened. Only my sister texts, asking if I’m coming home to celebrate Eid with everyone. I don’t answer her, because I can’t go back, and face her. Face everyone I let down.

As we ride in the private car to the club, I recall all the things those people at the party said to me, just like I do every night. It’s the only way I can block Beckham from my head, and allow me to let other women sit on my lap, and kiss my cheek. That’s all I let them do, but it’s enough. If I really thought about it, it would be too much, but I don’t let myself think about anything other than the hate.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and a part of me hopes it’s her, finally setting me free, but it’s my sister again. “Call me, Sully. Please.”

I ignore her again, but when my phone rings, and it’s Dylan’s name on the screen, I know I have to answer. I love my future brother-in-law, and not just for the perks. He’s a good guy, and he sometimes gets me in ways my sister can’t. I wave my friend inside, and answer.

“Hey, Dylan.”

“I get it, Sully. Honestly, I do, but you’re killing your sister.”

“I’m fine. She should be seeing the photos.”

“The ones where your eyes are dead as random chicks put their lips on you? Those photos?”

“Must be the club lighting, because I’m having a great time.”

The words sound hollow even to me, and he doesn’t let me bullshit him. “Stop lying. To me, and to yourself. You know I understand about being bullied.”

“Yeah.”

He was an overweight kid, picked on, and nearly beaten to death, by the local bullies when his brothers and sister weren’t around. It’s how he met my father, and got pulled into his crazy plan to kidnap my sister. He thought he owed him his life, and he probably does, but he fell for Nev, and refused to hurt her. He put his life on the line for my sister, and she destroyed those who would have killed him. True love at its purest level.

“It sucks to be called names, and have shit said about you, but it’s how you react to it that defines your character. Running away from the woman who stood up for you, isn’t the way. You know that; I know you do.”

“I don’t want her to pity me,” I tell him, admitting the truth I haven’t said out loud until now.

“Pity? Come on, man. Do you think I defend Nev out of pity?”

“No. Any fool could see you love her.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s different with me, and Beckham. It’s not love.”

“Isn’t it? You don’t love her?”

“I-I have to go.”

“Come home, Sully. For everyone’s sake, come home.”

“Bye.”

I hang up, and lean against the brick wall of the club for a few minutes. I have to compose myself, and put on my public face. I can’t listen to Dylan, because my heart’s telling me he’s right. I need to keep my head in control, though, because if he’s wrong, things would be even worse.

Pushing off the wall, I walk back inside, and choose the two lucky ladies who get to reside in my lap for the evening. One brunette, and one redhead—never a blonde. As they gush over me, and try to hold my attention, I force my mind to clear, because I can’t feel while I’m here. I need to fend off any straying hands or lips, and I can’t do that if I’m thinking about all I’ve lost.