Converging

The Gala

Next morning, Joelle went to her place. I asked her why she wouldn't just stay. She could move in with me at once, as I had asked her to but she said she still didn't feel I was committed to our relationship enough. If I'm the one who asked her to take a step further, how the fuck I'm not that invested in us? If only she knew what I had done for her, that I turned down Anna's kiss for her, she'd think differently. She has no idea the kind of history Anna and I have, how difficult it was for me and how I broke her heart to get away from her, to be faithful.

On her way out, Joelle accidentally knocked out a picture frame and mumbled something I didn't catch. I held her arm and asked her what the matter was, and she simply said she'd see me later. The look in her blue eyes screamed 'Give me space, Remy.'.

After she left, I went to clean up the mess and I saw the picture in that frame and something finally clicked in the right place, a piece of the puzzle. Well, perhaps, she does know or imagines just how much history we have. Now I know what Joelle meant when she accused me of not being committed to us. The frame I now know she deliberately knocked down held a picture of me and Anna, my favorite one of all. There are some pictures of us that you can see the lust, the passion in our eyes, those are plain sexy, but this one, she looks absolutely adorable, beautiful, like an angel and happy, truly happy. It's there so I remember I've made ma chére blissfully happy once.

I always kept that picture on a frame, it was taken on a night out we had in Valle Soleada, I was so in love with her, I could have proposed to her that night. I definitely felt like marrying her back then, we were so happy, so right. In fact, we were so happy that I was afraid putting a label on it would ruin it all. She's got her wild ways and a lack of sophistication when dealing with love and relationships that is hard to ignore. I was afraid if I tried to get more than what we had, I'd scare her away, I'd ruin the perfect balance we had those days. How did we go so wrong? Then my thoughts are back to the present, and I think of Joelle. I convinced her to stop looking for a way to end her life, and what for? For this? To break her heart? To daydream and fall back in love with my ex? I can't do that, I won't do that.

I fetch the picture off the floor. No matter what happens, what we do to each other, I want to keep it, us, our smiles, that memory of us. I would sweep the glass off the floor later, I decided. I take another good look at it, and sigh, I open my closet then I keep it inside a coat pocket, one I rarely ever wear. That's when I decided, I wouldn't look for her to apologize. How could that help me? I'd probably put myself in the dangerous position of being close to her and denying her a kiss, a touch, or worst even, sex. I don't know if I could be that strong. Last time we did it was so great, we were always great in bed. Even when she was an inexperienced virgin, the chemistry we have is and has always been unbelievable. It made up for the lack of experience. She always purrs in my ear when I enter her and I'm already wishing I could fuck her every day, for the rest of my life, forever and a day. You know that sex love? I feel like saying I love her every time and sometimes I feel like I'm out of love and then we go and have sex and in an instant my dick decides that yes, I love her. I'm forever in love with her. No other women makes me feel that way. No other women gets me confused like that. I've always been quite good in compartmentalization. I know when it's love and when it's just the sex. With Joelle, I think it's love. I care about her, in a way I haven't cared for any other woman that wasn't Rogue in a very long time. I'd better do this right.

We're back to New York and my encounter with Remy now seems like something out of a wet dream turned into a nightmare. After that night, he called me non-stop for a couple of days. I couldn't find it in me to answer the phone. I knew I'd break down and cry and I don't want him to know that I still hurt, that I still miss him, miss him like fucking crazy. I probably still love that dirty thief, the fucking swamp rat. Oh, I remember his eyes, his lips, and the mean words that left them, and my lips are trembling and I'm fighting the urge to cry. When facing that kind of longing, that kind of pain, I do what I know how to do best, immerse myself in work. So that's what I did.