She had felt something was wrong; she didn't know what. She had never had this type of feeling before. It made her buzz inside as though like an electric current. It was an unbalanced feeling, a disconnect.
She heard him in his office on the phone, speaking low like he had been doing for at least a week or longer. She couldn't quite read the emotion in his voice. She stood outside his door like a statue. She was perfectly poised, with perfect posture, hair, skin, nails, and a quiet demeanor. All the attributes he wanted in a mate, that was until now. She strained to hear his conversation but could only hear a few words and phrases.
"No!"
"No, she doesn't know."
"It's not that simple."
"No, that's absurd! I have no real feelings for her."
She wasn't shocked or crushed; she didn't feel anything. She was numb. She knew that things were about to change and the life she had assimilated to would be no longer. She went about her business cleaning and maintaining the house she and her partner Roland had shared for the last five years. She didn't think often about her life before that time. She didn't have a life before him. He was her world, so she prepared for her world to end.
Roland exited his office, quietly opening and closing the door behind him as if to not disturb her or hurt her feelings by drawing attention to the fact that he had started shutting her out of a part of his life. She thought it was ironic he even thought to do so because lately, he had treated her less like a human and more like a machine hired to help him survive.
He walked from the office into the kitchen, where she stood with a rag and cleaner in her hand. He stared at her in a way she never saw him look at her before. His eyes softened, and he tilted his head slightly to the side. A small sigh exited his mouth, and he said,
"Livia, would you sit with me for a moment?"
She put the rag and the cleaner down and began to walk toward him. He reached out, took her hand, and led her to the living room. He was still holding her hand when they sat down on the loveseat. He took her other hand, rubbing them slightly between his palms as if to warm them. They were always cold, her hands. He laughed and thought, "Cold hands, warm heart." He felt awful for what he was about to say, but there was no other way.
He thought back to when they first met, a year after his wife had left him. His now ex-wife told him there wasn't any passion left in their marriage, and she needed a fresh start. She needed to find out who she was instead of being the woman he expected her to be. She wanted to find "true love." When he met Livia, he knew she would appreciate and respect him. He knew, more importantly, she would never leave him. She was almost too good to be true, and she was. He attempted to be intimate a week after they met. She was responsive and passionate. She moved the right way and said the right things. Yet, when he looked into her eyes, something was missing. He thought maybe he still missed his wife and the connection they had, or the connection he thought they had. Regardless of the reason, he never asked for intimacy again, and she never questioned him about it. For that, he was grateful.
Now, he sits with her on the loveseat in this spotless and impeccably decorated living room, which Livia has designed according to his wishes, searching for the words to say.
"Livia," he stated bluntly. "I need to tell you something you may or may not understand."
She nodded, staring at him blankly with all the anticipation she could muster.
"I have met someone and fell in love," he said bluntly.
Livia continued to look at Roland with large eyes and a questioning face. She was unsure of what her response should be. Should she be angry? Upset? Should she accept her replacement and find a new place to start over? A thousand thoughts ran through her head, but she couldn't process them. She tried hard to be everything he wanted her to be, but it wasn't enough. She was unable to cry, she couldn't, but she could feel or rather sense sadness and regret in the air around her. She looked down at her lap and let go of his hands as her own began to shake.
YOU ARE READING
The Perfect Mate
Science FictionLove can be complicated. It's not as easy as flipping a switch...or is it?