The Turning Point

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE- THE WORST WEEKS

Heloyse

"And you said 'no'?"
"Of course, Cielo! I can't accept what he wants. That's ridiculous."
"Well, I agree, honey."
"But...?"
Cielo sighed, wiping her hands on her apron before crossing them over her chest.
"But, I also admit that knowing Will asked to spend time with someone... It's strange. I mean, you two did that," she said, blushing, "and I wanted to kill him when I found out he left without even talking to you. Still, I always knew he didn't spend much time with the same woman."
I let out an ironic laugh, crossing my arms as I leaned back in my chair.
"Sure! He doesn't 'recycle' dates with the women he treats like trash."
Cielo looked at me with a mix of compassion and concern.
"Lisy, I know what Johnson told you about Will is awful, and the scene with Mary made him look like a villain. But Will isn't a bad guy. He's just... lost in this life. He's a man who, it seems, likes sex a lot," she blushed again, "but is afraid to have a relationship. And, despite all that, he's good."
"You say that because he was Martin's best friend and helped you. That's wonderful, Cielo, really. But just because someone does something good doesn't mean I should submit to a relationship I don't want. I also, like him, don't want a relationship. And that's why I'm not interested in fooling around."
"Lisy, I'm not saying to accept what he proposed. That would be against my principles. I just want you to know he's not a good man just because he helped us or because he was our son's friend. I just want you to see who he really is."
Cielo paused for a moment, as if pondering her next words.
"Will needs help," she continued, her voice now softer. "Life hasn't been easy for him. He's just afraid of getting attached and then ending up alone. I know that."
Her words hung in the air, echoing uncomfortably within me.
Afraid of ending up alone. I know what that's like.
I clasped my hands in my lap.
"Well, I don't want to get attached either," my voice came out firm, but something inside me hesitated. "That's why I prefer to stay where I am. No complications for my head."
Cielo shook her head, smiling sadly.
"You two are so alike. Both afraid of ending up alone, although he doesn't admit it. Another reason for you to be together."
I rolled my eyes, looking away to the window as she placed the cake pan in the oven and wiped her hands on her apron.
After a moment, Cielo pulled up a chair and sat next to me. Her presence always brought a feeling of comfort, but at that moment, her words stirred me in a way I didn't want to admit.
"I still can't believe he told you about Wallace," she said, observing my expression.
I let out a heavy sigh.
"Yeah... But there's something else, and he didn't want to tell me."
Cielo tilted her head slightly, as if weighing her next words.
"You can be sure that was a huge start," she said, holding my hand for a brief moment. "You're messing with his head, Lisy. He doesn't talk about his life to anyone."
I frowned, trying to decipher the meaning behind those words.
"How did his parents die?"
For a moment, a heavy silence settled between us. Cielo looked down and took a deep breath. Her fingers intertwined on the table, as if she were fighting an internal battle about what to say.
Finally, her eyes met mine.
"I've already said I don't feel entitled to tell anything," she said, with a tone of regret. "But the thing is, Will felt he could share something with you. Doesn't that make you feel special?"
My heart squeezed in my chest.
Special?
I wanted to believe that. I wanted to think that there was something in me that made him trust me. But how could I feel special when all he did was push me away?
I shook my head, looking away.
"Right now, the only thing I feel... is sadness."
And deep down, I knew that sadness came from the fact that, despite everything... part of me wanted to be special to him to the point where he trusted me.

***

Two weeks had passed, and even my bones seemed to ache. Call me dramatic if you want, but it was as if longing had seeped into my skin, weighing on me like an impossible burden to ignore.
I wanted him more every day.
The nights were the worst. I lay in bed, closed my eyes, and tried to recreate the feeling of his hands sliding over my skin, his strong fingers, the way he held me as if he were afraid to let go. But all that remained was emptiness. And that emptiness hurt.
There were nights when I stayed under the hot water of the shower until my fingers wrinkled, letting the tears run down with the water, washing away a suffering that insisted on clinging to my soul. But I couldn't give in.
I couldn't make the same mistake I made with Michael.
I wasn't going to his door begging for love.
I was tired. Tired of being alone. Tired of loving in vain.
Time was passing, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't see happiness at the end of the road. I couldn't see him there.
I sighed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe going out for a bit would help.
I got up and went to get a shoe from under the bed, but as I felt around on the floor, my fingers touched something cold. I frowned and pulled the object out.
My heart stopped for a moment.
It was a gold medallion, hanging on a black cord.
The letter "A" was engraved on it.
The cord he always wore.
I swallowed hard. I remembered the night he took it off with his wet clothes and left it on the small table before lying down next to me.
Damn it.
Remembering that night was like a punch in the chest.
I looked at the medallion, my fingers tracing the smooth, cold edges. What did that "A" mean?
Would it be the name of someone he loved?
Will ever loved someone in this life?
The thought bothered me more than it should. I closed my hand around the cord for a moment, then put it in the drawer, as if hiding it could also bury the feelings that were bubbling inside me.
A noise outside caught my attention.
My heart raced.
I ran to the door and saw the pickup truck parked in front of the house.
He got out of the vehicle slowly, his eyes fixed on me, as if he were gathering courage to say something.
My chest tightened.
Each step he took towards me made my heart beat faster, as if it knew it was about to get completely lost.
"How are you?" his voice came out hoarse.
I wanted to lie. Say I was fine. That those weeks had been easy. But the truth slipped through my lips before I could stop it.
"I was doing fine..." my voice faltered a little. "And you?"
He took another step, getting so close that I could smell him.
"Good thing you were... because I've been in hell since you left that farm."
His hand touched my face, warm against my cold skin.
"I missed you," he said.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to control the avalanche of emotions that his words provoked inside me.
"It took you two weeks to miss me?" I asked, my voice laden with hurt.
He let out a heavy sigh, his fingers sliding to my nape.
"No. It took me two weeks to stop torturing myself, lose my sanity, my control, and come after you."
His confession hit me like a wave, taking with it any remnant of resistance I was still trying to maintain.
"They were the worst weeks I've ever had," he murmured.
And then, without warning, he pulled me to him and kissed me.
And at that moment, all the pain, all the longing, and all the denial dissolved.
Because, despite everything... I wanted him.