Chapter 40
Elene
The evenings are the hardest part. The time I usually spent with him. Until a few days ago, they were the highlight of my day. I was always counting the hours down until I could finally get out of the house and make my way to The Velvet Rooms. I couldn't wait to see him.
I can still feel the way my heart raced with joyous anticipation the closer I got to the club, and I can still feel my core throbbing at the thought of him, my body elevating at the memory of being with him.
It's all still there, but buried under a massive heap of misery. I thought letting go would be a lot easier once I stopped working at The Velvet Rooms. I gave Miss Barry my resignation the very next day after she told me that Damon was no longer a member of the club, and thus no longer a part of my life. I didn't wait until the next day because I needed to sleep on my decision, not at all.
I waited because I hoped that it was all just a mistake, a bad dream. When I walked up to Miss Barry the next day, I was still hoping that nothing had changed, that she would reverse everything she'd said the day before and tell me to go upstairs to our room, our sanctuary, so I could do my job.
But that didn't happen. Instead, she repeated that she hoped I would dress up as a sinful creature of the night, every night from then on out walking out to the guest room in black lingerie, ready to continue my job as a call girl, as if the last few weeks never happened.
But I knew I couldn't do that. I was ready to quit this world months ago, and I only stayed because I figured that being an angel in this establishment would be different, that it would be easy and safe, something that would keep me financially secure until I knew what else I was going to do with my life.
Instead, it threw me into the worst emotional turmoil I've ever experienced. Those who say that having loved and lost is better than never having loved at all are just fucking idiots. That couldn't be further from the truth. Okay, I wasn't exactly happy before I met Damon, but at least I was content. I wasn't trapped in this painful hole, tormented by loss and crying myself to sleep every night.
It's even worse now, though, because I have nothing else to do, nothing to hold my mind at bay. I'm spending my time just wandering around my small apartment, a glass of wine in hand. I hate wine, but I always have some at home because Sandi and my sister are regular visitors who love it. I grimace every time I take a sip of the putrid stuff, but I drink it anyway because it helps me sleep.
Even my apartment feels emptier now that he's gone, even though he's never been here. We've never seen each other anywhere outside The Velvet Rooms. We never shared a kiss outside those walls, I never caressed his marvelous skin outside that black room.
It was always there. At work.
But did it feel like work?
Not in the slightest.
The deep sigh I emit echoes through my living room. I take another sip of the red wine from the crystal glass in my hand. I used to love this apartment. It's my very first home after moving out of my mom's place. I was so proud that I could afford to live on my own in the city. Most of the people I went to high school with had to live in shared accommodations wherever they went. Of course, most of them opted to attend college, something I never aspired to. My sister did, but I don't think she was happy with her choice, either. It seems like the grass isn't always green no matter which side of the fence you’re on, at least in that regard.
Lila sent me a text today, and in a way, it was why I opened that bottle of wine. Her news hit me hard, not only because it was so unexpected, but because it has a way of rubbing salt into my wounds.
She's told me that she has something to celebrate.
She's engaged. To Jim. To the same guy she wanted to break up with just a little more than a week ago.
How does it even make any sense? What is the universe trying to tell me? Is Lila truly happy with this guy all of a sudden? Or is she falling into the same trap my mother kept falling into over and over, again and again?
Either way, I bet she's happier than I am right now, and even if she ends up regretting her decision, the sorrow won't last long. It never did for my mother. She always recovered in a minimum amount of time, falling head over heels for the very next guy who showed an interest in her. And there always was a next guy.
I don't think I can do that. I don't think I am like they are. I've never felt the way I do toward Damon. I've never had an experience, a connection, like I do with Damon. There's still so much I wanted to learn and know about him, so much more I wanted to share with him.
Shit, we could have been good together. No, we could have been fucking perfect. I resonated with him, and he with me. We balanced one another, we completed and complemented one another. Nothing about us was normal from the beginning, and I loved that about him. About us.
Maybe I even loved him. Love. A word I'm reluctant to use after such a short time, but it seems fitting.
My phone pings for attention, causing me to jerk in surprise. I struggle to produce it from my jeans' pocket, fearing it might be another message from my sister. I congratulated her, but in a reserved way that must have been a telltale sign of what I really think about her news. I wasn't ecstatic or exhilarated, but polite and brief. She knows me well enough to read the meaning behind that message.
But the text that just arrived is not from her. It's from Sandi. I grimace, wondering what she could want from me right now. She's at work, at the club. And that means she should be too busy to be messaging me. Whatever it is must be important.
But it doesn't read that way at first.
"Can I come by for brunch tomorrow? Got something to talk about."
I'm bewildered and curious. Why is she being so vague?
"Sure, come by whenever. Everything okay?" I text back.
I keep staring at the screen for a few more moments, but it doesn't seem that she has even read my response. She must be busy and planning to check for my reply later.
I finish my glass of wine in one big swig, my face still masked by confusion from my best friend’s text. I’m really curious about what she may have to tell me. What could she consider so urgent to make it necessary to tell me in person, but not urgent enough to spell it out in the text?
I'm puzzled, to say the least.