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“Michael? Are you still there?” Moira asks again, breaking the silence and snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking.” I don't think that all these thoughts have been completely dredged up today. I've gone long enough without thinking about her that I'd almost forgotten the ugly mess she put me through.
“What are you thinking about?” She sounds curious and kind, but this isn’t the kind of conversation I want to have this soon into our friendship. Maybe with time I’ll feel comfortable sharing, but trauma dumping on her right now doesn't seem like the right move... for either of us.
“Just some past things that don't really need to be discussed right now.” I say the words as open and honestly as I can.
“I appreciate the transparency.” She says the words without a hint of mocking amusement, and I'm surprised at her sincerity. Not because I expect her to be dishonest, but because most people I talk to aren't okay with me not sharing information right away. Her ability to respect boundaries is certainly a green flag, and one that I'm not going to ignore.
I'm not really sure what kind of alternative activity to suggest for our meet up, but I definitely want to see her again. Coffee seems too simple, given that she'd gone all in wanting our first meeting to be at Club Red. “I really would like to see you again.”
“And I'd like to see you. That's the whole reason I called.” I can hear the smile in her voice, and she sounds sincere, but so did Cynthia once. I know it's not fair to compare the two, but my brain won’t let me forget the pain of the past. “We could meet at my place or yours.”
She hesitates, then continues speaking. “Or if that's too forward, we could always meet for coffee or drinks.” I expect a mocking edge to her voice, but she only sounds excited to make plans.
“How about my place?” As I say the words, my gut knots up. I've been so careful not to give out any personal information since Cynthia to anyone I've seen since. The thought of someone having my address and the ability to stop by unannounced and uninvited reminds me of how everything had gone badly with my ex. I promised myself I'd be careful, but here I am opening that door again. Maybe I’ll never learn after all. “I'm sorry that Club Red just isn't my thing.” I hate disappointing her, but I have to set firm boundaries.
She lets out a light laugh. “Don't stress it, Michael. I'm just excited to see you again.”
Warmth worms its way through my heart, and I can't hold back a slight smile. “I'm excited to see you again too.” With that, we say our goodbyes and hang up.
I lean back in my chair, placing my phone on the desk, and look around my house. I'd had this place built as a child who grew up with nothing, and that shows; the place is a mansion in the hills with six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a pool, a gym, a cinema room, a library, and a garage full of expensive cars.
Back then, this was the house of my dreams.
Now I realize I could be happy with a whole heck of a lot less.
The main reason being that this house feels empty.
After Cynthia took my dog to round out her new life and family, I’d been left alone. And the quiet in this place is absolutely overwhelming. I stand up and make my way to the office bar. While I used to have a bottle of Scotch and a crystal glass within reach on my desk, I realized that made it too easy to drink far too much, so now I keep everything contained at the bar. It's harder to get completely drunk if I have to get up and walk across the room to make myself a drink.
I pour myself some whiskey and turn to scan the room once more, thinking about how decadent I'd made this space. The heavy wooden walls remind me of a Victorian era smoking room, and I glance out the windows into the looming twilight.
As I swallow my drink, trying to calm my nerves, I realize that I'm nervous about meeting up with Moira. I’m nervous about telling her more about myself and opening up about my past. I'm nervous about taking the next step. I don't want to get hurt again, and I feel I could truly care about her if I let myself.
But I'm also excited.
I'm excited to see her smile, hear her laugh, feel her touch, and to learn more about her. I've spent a lot of time trying to heal myself from the past. I feel like I finally found my own sense of happiness. So maybe she's the missing piece that can add more joy to my already tranquil existence.
Then again, it's possible she'll be the one to destroy everything I’ve built. Fate does have a funny sense of humor sometimes.
With my mind still racing, I finish my drink and head toward my bedroom. I contemplate a shower before bed, lost in the routine of my life. Something inside me wants to break away from the predictable patterns I live by.
And as I walk in the bathroom to brush my teeth, letting my life fall out of sync with the typical routine, I find my mind racing with thoughts of Moira... and Cynthia.
I thought I'd finally managed to banish her from my thoughts. But here she is, haunting me as if she still has a hold over my mind and existence. With a cleaner mouth, I meet my gaze in the mirror, then I hear a knock at the front door.
Who could possibly be at my front door this late at night?
With that, I push myself upright from where I had been leaning on the bathroom counter and make my way out into the living room toward the door. As I plant both hands on the door and lean forward to look through the peep hole, I feel my heart sink.
Cynthia stands on the other side of the door, as if I'd conjured her up with thought alone. Her dark eye makeup has run down her cheeks as if she's been crying, and she's wearing a tight red dress with a little black purse strap over her shoulder. Her arms are wrapped around herself in a tight hug and she’s looking back over her shoulder.
Some part of me whispers that this could be a trap. Someone out there I can't see, ready to put a gun in my head and demand everything I own. But Cynthia already took everything from me, and she took the things that money can't buy, so I can't imagine she'd be up to a scam like that.
Against my better judgment, I pull open the door, keeping a hand planted on the door jam so she knows she’s not welcome inside and can’t push past me into my home. Her surprised gaze meets mine and a slight smile curves the corners of her lips.
I hate to admit it, but she looks stunning.
