love story, tragic romance

The Closed Door

I flicked through the television sitting on the single leather chair at the foot of my bed. The bed too big for just one, even two. There I have a model fast asleep, her friend besides her. Both women with lacy intimate fabric. The model was my date last night. Another Grammy won.

Instead of remembering the glamorous night I just had, I am stuck in another time zone. My mind always wanders back to her, especially during my triumphs. Always wishing it was her in my bed, just her. Always thinking the “what-ifs”.

She is elsewhere. Another country, in fact. Probably working on her next project, filming her next movie or telenovela. I hate thinking about the possibilities of her being wrapped in someone else’s arms instead of mine at this moment.

I take a long sip of the Hennesey in my glass. I look at it. Another sip left, minus well pour some more. I do. I think maybe a ride will calm my nerves.

I grab the key to one of my luxorious cars and hit the road. I try hard to not think of her as I get in. Once I feel the tires gliding on the sleek concrete, I begin to relax turning the radio on, sinking back onto the leather.

Of course, her song plays. An old favorite she loved to dance for me. There are many songs, many places, too many things that that keeps her present, embedded in my soul.

It is hard to resist the images that comes along each time I think of her. Precisely? The last time we saw each other. It’s been over three years and I could relive every moment of our farewell. Every word said.

In our bedroom ,she had laughed. Something like hysteria had errupted from her throat.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” She was beyond insulted. She always said the same thing, each time I fucked up.

“I have no words my love. I am just so sorry.” I sadly offered.

“You can’t fix this. Not this one and definitely not with your shitty sorries. Not anymore! What is there left to do? Five years and you still can’t give me your loyalty?!” The sky roared as the rain that came down reflected her pain.

I tried to go to her. I wanted to stop the tears I’d casted. She was beautiful even when she cried. The silky scarlet gown she had on clung onto her perfected sculpture, cleavage poured from the top and her tears fell onto them.

I was so in love with her, still am and yet I couldn’t and still can’t explain what happens when the shots of alcohol make it to my head. I failed her. Time and time again I proved to her that I’m wasn’t worthy.

The pictures were every where by the time we got home. They were leaked sometime during evening as we attended another awards ceremony. It was me and the russian singer a few nights before. The pictures were of me pinning the bitch up against a wall in one of the nightclubs a friend of mine owns, but no one was supposed to see us. We were in a private booth. I thought we were well hidden,but then again I was too drunk to even remember her face.

I felt awful making my goddess cry, hurting her pained me. I could literally feel my heart tighten remembering the mascara stains under her hazel eyes.

I am truly a fuck up, but I swore she would forgive me again. I’m such an arrogent man. What was one more time?

Thinking even though she is mad now, she would still offer her forgiveness for the sake of our toxic love.

I just needed to get close to her to comfort the pain I had caused. With sweet words and a warm embrace, she was to cry on my shoulder and allow me to soothe her.

Once more I would of undressed her and made love to her. Wipe away her tears as I brought her to her climax and that too would of been buried too. Put in the past and forgotten because her love belonged to me. There was no one she would love more than me.

I heard myself chuckle.. Yeah, me and my arrogance. My foot presses on the gas. The rain is falling hard just like it had on that night, but the rode is clear and I need the speed. As I continue to relive that night.

Her back was turned to me and she stared at her reflection through the oval mirror. I wondered what was it that she was contemplating? I watched as she calmed herself. Coached herself. I worried, but remained quiet. Afraid to interrupt her thoughts. She was my queen. I would of given her the galaxy if she so asked.

In that moment she had turned to me. Rays of lightening rips through the clouds as I continue to stare out the Lamborghini’s windshield. The rain continues to crash against the glass. My eyes staring at a black road, but it is her features that I am seeing. 

Her face illuminated despite the dim bedroom. Her beauty always impacted me and I went to her, moving slowly until I stood next before her. She had allowed it. When she spoke her words were velvet. Soft and tired.

“I cannot continue to loose myself. Your arrogant and selfish. You prevent me from growing because you suck the life from me. I lost a child over one of your adventures, remember the stress you put me through?”, her glare still haunts me my throat tightens again. Her words have lingered in my head. “I will not allow for you to obstruct me. I want to find the best version of myself and with you that can’t happen. I can’t love myself and you. So, I choose to love me instead of you.”

“I understand why you feel this way, but I could change. I will marry you. You could be my wife. I will never do this to you again. On my life. I swear to you that..” Her hand came up to my lips. She silenced me. I remember kissing her fingers holding her hand to my lips cherishing her touch, I had closed my eyes for a second. When I looked at her again, she was slowly shaking her head. New tears in her eyes.

“Not this time Anthony. This time I won’t forgive you.” I closed the space between us wrap my arms around her held her tight. She was almost a foot shorter than I am and gently rested my chin above her head.

For a moment I had felt her caving into this manipulation of emotions, but she reconized the weakness and began to shove me away.

I dropped to my knees. Held her tight around the waist, wrapped my arms around her figure. I’ve never had to use that resort and never I had I begged after either, but it was what came to mind in that time of desperation. I was loosing her, but I still thought that she wouldn’t be able to resist my weakness for her. My Needing her. My desire to love her.

She allowed for me to hold her and I had felt her fingers glide through my hair. I hurt her and she conforted me. I almost want to laugh except I’m crying, now as I had been then.

She waited patiently until I looked up at her and she grabbed my arms, encouraging me to stand. The big man that I am she couldn’t just lift me, but I muse her and reluctantly stand.

Her hand is settles on my cheek and I lean my face against her, “There aren’t any more words for me to give to you. I’ll make arrangements for my belongings, but here is where our story ends. Please, if you really love me, you won’t follow me.” With those last words she walked away from me towards the door, she leaves and closed it behind her. 

The tears are now streaming down my face by now and it has become difficult to look through my windsheild because of the stormy weather. The wipers are at their highest setting, but still I can barely see. I begin to slow down once I notice the speedometer at 110mph, releasing my foot off the gas pedal. Then, a strong wind hits and I begin to loose control, my car swirvs on the bridge and the headlights from the oncoming car of the opposite lane are in front of my car in a matter of seconds. I jerk my steering wheel and the car begins to spin hitting the side of the rail sending my car off the bridge and into the sea.