Forever Rain

Chapter 20

Rain

What to do? It's been so long since I've been alone, and the case studies have taken a shorter amount of time than I have anticipated. I still have another two days before they return, and I need to find something to fill the free time.

Why must it always be like this? I'm either working for myself or others. Initially, it was because I wanted to exceed, afraid of falling short of my own expectations, pushing and fighting until I have broken free of the stereotype, the life everyone has predicted I would fall into. But as I look around my spacious house with enough bedrooms for four people to have their own, I wonder what more it was I was fighting for.

I might not have noticed it during the journey, but now backtracking, I'm astonished that I have escaped the life of an abusive alcoholic and drug addict who could barely afford or remember to feed their only child. Struggling through it all, shouldn't I just relax and breathe for once? What can possibly go wrong with one night of easy breathing in the house I have worked strenuously for?

Opening the wine fridge that Lila always has stocked, I pull out the bottle that looks the least intimidating. I know I told Damon I drink now, but truthfully, I only drink when I'm forced to, like weddings and corporate dinners. Even then, it would be a tiny sip to pacify the demanding crowd. I've always been afraid that I would become the imbecile that my father was, relying on such a pitiful beverage to make it through the days.

I'm sure a few glasses once in a while wouldn't condemn me to such a life. After all, Lila's commands have been for me to relax and gather my thoughts together. Guiltlessly, I pour myself a glass of the sparkling Prosecco. Mmmm. This is quite tasty, crisp, and bubbly. I take a big sip of the wine glass, letting the tingling liquid wash down my throat.

This feels nice. I'm sitting here in my silk pajamas of shorts and tank top, and reluctantly, I admit that I feel a hint of provocativeness. Over the years, I have indulged in sexual relations here and there, and although they have stimulated a satisfying sexual release, I was often left yearning for more. Like Lila, I would wake up feeling bashful, wanting to remove myself from the shameful situation as soon as possible.

Maybe there is something wrong with me. Maybe I'm yearning for something inconceivable and quixotic. Could it be that I'm unloveable, a soul so damage and broken, it can't accept a fathomable admiration from the opposite sex?

I may not be as beautiful as Lizzy, but at the very least, I have all the check marks to score a decent guy. So what is it that is holding me back? That is making my heart feel irrevocably bottomless and lost?

I cannot believe I just thought about Lizzy, that condescending, miserable tramp. Yes, I've said it. There was an entire school of girls that were comparable to her, and yet, she had chosen me to unleash her fury. It wasn't as though the feud remained in our arrogant, teenage years. She had brought that hatchet into our adulthood, carrying it around with her, ready to attack the moment she saw me.

The more I think about, how could I have possibly thought them fit for each other, Damon and her? He has everything she lacks. Integrity, decency, gentleness, tenderness, sexiness. Wait, where did that last one come from?

Pouring myself another glass, I want to forget about the treachery that has consumed my life thus far. Romantically, I'm not where I want to be, but career-wise, I've more than accomplished what I have set out to do. Then why is there an overbearing feeling of lack within my chest? What am I missing from my life?

I'm ready to head to the bathroom and run myself a hot bath, when the doorbell rings. Who could it be? I'm not aspecting company at this time of the night. Maybe something happened, and they had to return.

I head to the front door and look out the peephole. Damon. Oh god. How did he find me? What is he doing here? The blood drains from my face, and I'm left to make a quick decision of whether to let him in or not, a heavy decision that I will have to lift and expense with my own two hands.