Their Tale

Open wounds

Closing the door behind me, I drop the dance bag in the closet beside the entrance. My body is tired, I walk to the kitchen for water and something to eat. The apartment is quiet, and Celeste is working late again. She does come home from the studio, but when she does, it's late enough for her not to have to speak of what she was going through, where her mind was, and what her heart was feeling.

It's been almost a week since I've seen her for more than four hours in the two weeks we have been here. The first few days when we moved in, she was distant, but at least she was here. She wouldn't speak much, telling me that she just needed to collect her thoughts.

Instead of collecting her thoughts, she moved her presence and distanced herself. Every moment she was not here, I hated the thought of what could happen if she lost her strength if she couldn't handle the betrayal and went to find something to make it feel better. No, she wouldn't. She wouldn't do that to herself, she wouldn't put us through that. Words I told to Dr Meadows each time I saw her, tears running down my face as I explained that I was losing the people I loved.

Walking to the terrace that accompanies the large living room, I take my water and sit on the couch. The night stars paint across the darkening sky. It is quiet in these parts. So different from my old apartment and the penthouse.

Would the house be this quiet, would we have been in the kitchen, as Celeste cooked dinner she found a smile in each inch of the white marble. Would we talk as Angel let the space of the house carry the notes of the piano in a single harmony? Would we be holding each other, loving each other, giving each other ourselves in trust and love?

My mind finds it hard not to go back to the screaming match Celeste and I had ended up in yesterday. Gosh, the words that left our lips still burnt even in memory.

Dinner is nothing but a meal eaten alone for the fourth night in a row. No words are exchanged, stories told, laughs, smiles, comfort and love. It didn't exist in the few hours I sat in the silent space of the lavish condo that we now owned. Yawning out of exhaustion, I look at the clock mounted to the wall as its arms tell me that it is past two a.m.

With a heavy sigh, I go to the kitchen, plate and empty glass in hand. Leaving them in the sink, I clench my jaw in anger and frustration. I knew the lies ran deeper for her, but they hurt me too. I am in love too; I am hurting too and she is choosing to hurt alone. She is abandoning me to go through this alone, leaving me just as alone too.

It was then that I heard the sound of the door opening, Celeste stepped in softly until she realised that the lights were on. Walking in, I see her covered in black and grey paint like she has been ever since she went back to the studio. Darkness she never gave acknowledgement to was now the one that she would dye her clothes with, "It's two in the morning." I emphasise on the morning as I put the dishes on the rack.

Sitting on the island chair, her voice is sharp as she responds to me, "I know." The breaking of glass shakes us both when I mistakenly slam it into the sink. Turning to her in a fit of pain and fury, she watches me with nothing in her eyes, "Two fucking am. What the fuck happened to the decency of calling?" Fighting the need to scream I gesture with my hands.

Her eyes never leave mine as they pull me into a space of darkness, I never even knew she could possess, "You need to calm down, I'm here." A shocked scoff leaves me in reaction to her naivety, "You could have called me Celeste. What makes you think I don't sit here and worry about you?"

The audacity of her shows in her decision to roll her eyes at me when she steps off the chair "I don't need this shit right now." She turns her back towards me when I snap, "What shit, the truth that you are being an asshole to me right now?" In quick motion, she turns to me with an offended and stunned look on her face.

"I am not being an asshole, I'm in pain. The man I love is a liar!" The frustration of it all, my fingers grip my hair, curls tangling in them, "I know, but that doesn't explain why I must feel his punishment. What, am I not good enough for you when I am not a command?"

A laugh of pain and disbelief gives insight into her feelings towards my statement when she paces in anger, "Don't start with that, I will not feed that insecurity of yours each time you doubt yourself." The feeling of a stab in the gut shocks me, making me walk closer to her "Then be here with me, for fuck sake because you were not the only one lied to. I am falling apart here!" Avoiding my eyes, her arms express her volume, "You don't get to compare. I was with him for ten years!"

Cracks drown her words, but pain suffocates mine, "And the blood on my hands means shit in comparison?" Fury fills her eyes, worry covering her facial expression "Stop putting words in my mouth damn it." Walking away, I refuse the ending she gives and follows her, "Why can't you be here? To hold me, and comfort and let me do the same as we go through this huh?"

What I never expected was the fury of hell to unleash through her words as she breaks me "Because I look at you and his fucking ghost follows. I feel like I am bleeding through an open wound you can't fix because you are not my Master!"

Silence gives Celeste the second to have her recognise the words she just shot me with. With a slow pace, she walks to me, but the pain of her words burns with each step she takes towards me, "I didn't mean that. Evita..." She whispers to me, more to herself in what I can only decipher as self-convincing "I-I need to..."

Her words never manifest when she takes one last look at me and rushes past me. The sound of the door slamming was the only indication that she said it. Could this all really be over?