Eyes Wide Shut

Chapter 15

The front door slams behind me.

            “Frankie!”

            “Frankie, is Mollie okay?”

            “Will Mollie press charges?”

            “Is Mollie staying here because you’re together?”

            “Are you cheating on Wayne, Frankie?”

            It was one of the longest walks to my car I’ve ever had. Shouting coming from everywhere it seemed. I slammed the door to my car, but it wasn’t over yet. I slowly inched my way out of the driveway, the paparazzi shuffling along with the movement of my car, snapping their pictures as they went. This was only fueling my anger and I had to restrain my foot from pounding on the gas pedal.

            I was quick once I got out of the driveway, none of them able to jump in their cars quick enough to follow me. I drove as fast as I could to get away from my house, making it harder for myself to turn around. I ended up checking into some random hotel in London, quite sure no one would find me.

            The room is stuffy and it smells like her, probably because I still smell like her. I toss my keys onto the table and make my way towards the bathroom. I turn on the water and I throw off my clothes onto the tile floor; I already feel it working up inside of me. And I’m crying before I even enter the shower. I’m crying for her and I’m crying for myself and I’m just crying to cry.

            The water is far too hot, scorching my skin. But I force myself to stand there, to wash away the remnants of her. I take deeps breaths that are loaded with anger. I suddenly crumble, my knees giving out as I sink to the floor of the shower. The water was raining all over me, weighing me down, adding to the weight of my sobs.

            I can’t forget it. The way she looked at me, her wet eyes full of sorrow. The way her stare said she just can’t. The way it told me that she knew. She knew I was right. She knew she felt the same way about me. She knew I was done. The way her eyes said don’t leave because she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to let go of the comfort. Let go of the cuddles. Let go of the kisses. Let go of my security. She wasn’t ready. She still isn’t ready.

            But oddly, I am.

            I was supposed to feel like the weight had lifted, like I was done. Finally free of her burden. But it wasn’t. It still lingered inside me. And I desperately wanted her to relieve the pain that she had caused.

            And I’m sure I’ll see her everywhere. On the TV, in the magazines, and sh*t, I’d see her in three weeks when the Sats picked back up again. And yet, part of me didn’t want to escape her. Part of me wanted to get back in the car, walk in that door, and take her in my arms, and tell her it will be okay; like I had done so many times before. Because it’s comfortable and familiar, like an addiction.

            I force myself to drag myself out of the shower. I put my clothes on and put on some music, something to possibly take my mind off it all. I press shuffle, hoping the music would take me away.

            A demo Andy had shared with me came on - “When She Was Mine.” Skip. Then “Fight for this Love.”

            “Seriously!” I shout, turning it off.

            Oh, the irony.

            My phone buzzed in my hand. Another text from Mollie. Anger flushes through my veins once again. I throw my phone away. I close my eyes, but her face is still there.