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| RUNNING ON EMPTY BY TORRI |
CHAPTER 19 |
If ever there was a time that Tea did not regret living alone, it was now. Daydreams and nightmares invaded her mind every hour of the day. With someone else around, she hoped that it would provide enough of a distraction to keep her painful thoughts at bay.
Unlike Starr and Viki, Roseanne had to take a "regular" flight to New York - coach. Having grown up with very little, taking a flight, private or otherwise, was a treat. Another treat, was one that Tea provided for both of them, a limousine to take them to her penthouse.
Roseanne barely spoke for the first two hours she was in New York - that was how long it took them to find baggage claim, retrieve her imitation Coach luggage, navigate through the swarm of people to the waiting car and suffer through the "move - stop" traffic into the city. Once the driver closed the door, Roseanne removed the sunglasses that she hid behind during the duration of the flight. Her eyes were swollen, red and filled with unshed tears. She leaned over to Tea, put her head on her shoulder and began to sob uncontrollably. Tea wrapped her arms around her, holding her, until she had cried all the tears she could spare.
Roseanne had changed in the time Tea had seen her last, physically she was still the tall, thin, beautiful young woman that Tea remembered. Behind the physical, a certain maturity had taken over for the bratty, conniving little girl that she left back in Llanview. She carried herself with confidence in public, even though she did not feel confident. She had ever been respectful toward Tea, whereas in the past she was nothing more than smart aleck kid. Tea was prepared to deal Roseanne's mouth, putting her in check the moment she stepped out of line. But, there was no need.
****
As Roseanne looked around the penthouse, she noted how different it was from the place she shared with Todd. The old penthouse was light, airy, with a touch of sweet femininity. This place had a masculine feel, or better yet, an air of emptiness. There was so much free space, a couch - space - table - space - entertainment center - space. It didn't have that "homey" feel; it was, in fact, "cold."
Tea showed her to her bedroom, leaving her to unpack in peace. She wouldn't force any conversation, opting for "natural flow." In the kitchen, she fumbled around, making a pot of coffee, thinking, cursing to herself. It was only after the pot brewed, that she realized that pregnant women shouldn't have caffeine, thereby making her first mistake.
"Shit," she muttered, pouring the entire pot of coffee down the drain.
"What are you shitting about?" Roseanne asked, sneaking behind Tea in the kitchen.
"Nothing. Are you hungry? You want something to drink? Let's see," she said opening the refrigerator, "I have any type of juice you can imagine. Oh, um, I have food. You want some food? Come over hear and look. We can order out if you want-"
"Tea, slow down. Why are you so nervous?"
"I-I just want to make sure you have everything you need."
"Well, the truth is, I haven't had much of an appetite for anything, and I'm not thirsty."
"Okay, well, what do you want to do?" She joined Roseanne at the table, annoyed with herself for disposing of an entire pot of coffee.
"I'm a little tired. You mind if I-"
"Not at all. I have some things I need to do at the office anyway."
****
Tea's Office
The top floor was always quiet on Saturday, the executives that shared the top floor, went to the Hampton's, or some other place to just "get away." They pretended to do work during the week, all the while delegating the "real work" to their underlings, and taking all the credit that they didn't deserve. Tea wasn't like that, at least twelve hours of her day was spent at the office, even when she left, she either thought about her cases, or worked on them at home.
She opened the door to her office, and stood in the doorway. She looked at all she had, the big suite, the high tech "toys," the bar, everything she thought she needed to be happy. As her eyes rested upon object after object, she wondered if those "things" defined who she was, or if they were just that, "things." A guilty feeling passed over her, for having realized her childhood dreams, and still not experience happiness.
As a child, her Abuela said that "money does make people happy," but she didn't believe it. Growing up poor and without some of the basic necessities, made her miserable, money was the only thing that could have made it better. After all, those rich kids that lived on the upper floors of her building, they seemed happy all the time. They laughed and joked, while eating their fancy croissant sandwiches, with fancy meat and expensive condiments - and there she was, sitting alone, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, or sometimes just two pieces bread smushed together.
As an adult, an adult with money, she learned that it didn't matter. That maybe the smiles that adorned the faces of the kids were just as fake as those she was so often forced to wear. The truth was, when she had nothing, things were so much simpler. There was no Todd Manning, no little Starr, no one to "get to her," the way they did.
She stepped over the threshold, dreading the pile of work that was waiting for her. Lawyering, her lifelong goal, was rapidly becoming an obligation that she was no longer sure she wanted. At one time, she considered her job to be a precious luxury, one that many tried to attain, but few people ever reached. She was smart, and it came easily to her. Yet another way to say "fuck you" to the people who tried to hold her back; wrapping that metaphorical steel chain around her neck, yanking whenever she got too far ahead. She started to question whether they were right, whether she really belonged in the field that was so unfulfilling to her soul.
She felt the leather of her chair; it's smoothness beneath her even smoother, manicured hands. The expensive, Italian material was just the tiniest bit cold, but it didn't matter. What mattered was its richness, its smell, its reminder of how far she had come. She loved swiveling around in it, turning herself toward the window. There was so much freedom out there; in the world, it sometimes hurt. Because she was stuck, those memories, those collars around her neck, those anchors around her ankles - pulling - pulling - pulling - sinking.
I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I had a choice, and I made the wrong one. I didn't know what to do; I didn't know what to do. It seemed so simple then, I never thought of the repercussions. I miss you so much - everyday - I miss you. Please forgive me, even though I don't deserve it. If I could do it all over again, believe me, I would.
I bet you would have been so beautiful, with brown eyes like me and a smile like your father's. I would make sure that you were the most loved child in the world. And I would never pressure you to do or be anything you didn't want. I would just love you, the way that I was never loved. Forgive me. Forgive me.
Her unborn child and God were privy to at least one prayer a day dedicated to her biggest mistake. Nobody knew about those silent words spoken to her child, who would have been fifteen. She had a vague picture in her head of how her baby would have looked. Her big, brown eyes and high cheekbones...Michael's smile and wavy dark hair. It would have been the best of both of them, merged to create the perfect little being, totally dependent on them for love.
"Pull yourself together Tea." And she did.
She swung around in her chair, grabbed her first case folder after case folder, and working until her eyes could no longer make out the words. The blackness blended together, blurred, danced around on the papers. She closed the last folder, set her timer and closed her eyes.
Memory check.
It hardly seemed necessary to indulge herself with the sweet memories of her lost love. Everywhere she turned, he appeared to be right there with her, whether physically or mentally, his presence was there. It was the past that resonated through every part of her body, awakening sensations that had been dormant since the last time his lips pressed against hers, and his body made gentle contact with her.
Out of all the alters that Todd invented, Rod was her favorite. He said the things, sincerely; that she had always dreamed of hearing from someone she loved. With him, she felt beautiful, sexy, loved, in a way that she had never felt before. There was a time, when she could have easily given into her desires and made love to him, and she would regret not following her heart for the rest of her life.
She spent many nights thinking of the night at the opera, the night that could have culminated with the most beautiful thing her body had ever experienced. She stopped; but during her "memory checks," she didn't stop. They kept going, up the stairs, into the bedroom, over to the bed and he inside of her. Loving her in a way that she never imagined. Whispering the beautiful words that grabbed hold of her heart and filled it with a love so complete, that she could die from its potency.
The funny thing about memory, was that she could change it a bit, to suit what she "wanted" to happen, intermixed with what really happened. The fiction of it all was what stuck with her. The what could have beens - the what should have beens - the endless possibilities.
Time's up Tea.
****
Tea's Penthouse
Tea took the long way home - she walked. The cold air snapped her from the depression, temporarily, redirecting her focus to the situation with her niece. She took a deep breath before inserting her key into the lock; it was going to be a long night.
She cracked the door, listening for sounds of movement; all she heard was the sound of the television blaring. She pushed it open further, spotting Roseanne laying on the couch, guzzling a soda.
"Hey." Tea dropped her briefcase at the door and joined Roseanne on the couch.
"Hey. I was wondering if you were gonna come back."
"I had so much to do at work. You hungry? We can order something or I can cook."
"Naw."
Like Tea, Roseanne had the kind of eyes that would tell an entire story, without her having to say a word. They spoke the same language as Tea's, were filled with the same deadness, sadness, hopelessness. Tea sighed loudly, reached for the remote control, turning off the television. She braced herself for the conversation that she had been dreading all day. "You feel like talking?"
"Not really."
"We don't have to talk about you - uh - your - options."
Roseanne got up and walked over to the window. By turning her back, she made it impossible for Tea to "read the lines in her face," but not impossible for her to read the language of her body. It spoke to Tea, without words, but with her slick, deliberate movements. It was evident that Roseanne was terrified, and was in desperate need of affection. The affection of a parent, close friend, relative, not that of a lover.
Tea waded past her own pain, opening her arms and her heart to Roseanne. She stepped into the embrace, sobbing onto her shoulder, yet again.
"Let it out," Tea encouraged. "It's okay - I know what you're going through."
"I don't want to be like this, Tea. I just wanted to love him, that's all, but I screwed it up. What did I do wrong?"
"You didn't do anything wrong, sometimes things just don't work out. It doesn't mean that one person is bad, or that they don't love each other, sometimes things just don't work out the way we think they should."
"I thought when I told him about the baby - you know - it would make everything better - you know? But he got mad at me and blamed me for our mistake."
That's the way it works. They fuck up and you're the blame. "But it wasn't your fault alone, so don't let him talk you into believing that. Don't let him manipulate you." Like I did. "Roseanne, you have got to be strong." Like I wasn't. "You have got to do what you want to do, to hell what everyone else thinks." They will not be there for you in the end. "There are other men out there," that won't satisfy you, "other men who will love you the way you deserve to be loved," but they won't be the one you want. "Don't base your decision on public opinion" - been there, done that. She was no longer speaking of Roseanne and her predicament; she was speaking of her own lonely life. The one that was so wrought with boredom and monotony, she just wanted to scream.
Roseanne walked away from the window, feeling nauseated, and weak in the legs; she sat back down on the couch. "But you don't know what it's like for me, loving Christian more than I love myself-"
That's your first mistake; don't lose yourself. At that moment, Tea wanted to grab her by her neck and shake her, yelling, how she knew exactly how she felt. It wasn't that long ago when she gave everything that she was to a man who could never return not even a droplet of what she felt for him. She counted to ten in her head, and took a few meditation breaths. When she felt the anger releasing from her body, she spoke to Roseanne very gently. "I do know how that feels. I have been there with Todd, on more than one occasion. He never loved me, but I kept hoping. I gave myself - my entire self - to him, waiting like a sick animal, for my master to return a little of what I felt for him. I love him more than I love myself. So, yes, I do know how you feel and I had to give him up before I completely lost myself."
Roseanne clung to one word that Tea spoke, "love." Not past tense, but present - very firmly and very confidently she said it. "Love?"
"What?"
"You said you love him - how can you still love him after everything he did?"
"Because he was the first man I ever loved. But this isn't about Todd and me; it's about you."
"What would you do if you were me?"
I was you and I took the coward's way out. "I have made so many mistakes in my life, I can't even begin to tell you what to do with yours. If you want Christian - if you cannot live your life without him - if he is the one that you know you are meant to be with for the rest of you life - if you know there is no one else out there that can make you feel the way he does - if you know that he is the part of you that was always missing - if you know all of those things and more, then go for it. But if you're not sure, if you have any doubt whatsoever, then let him go and regain you sense of self."
"You sound like a self-help book," Roseanne joked through her tears. She stared at her sad aunt, struggling to maintain her brave front. "Was Todd all of those things for you?"
Tea had been standing in front of the window, looking out into the city. Really, she was hiding her face, keeping her pain to herself. Without her realizing it, tears began to slip down her cheeks, leaving a thin trail of mascara that she tried to discretely wipe away. She sniffled, then coughed, attempting to cover her moment of weakness. "I honestly don't know."
Roseanne sensed that Tea needed to be alone with her thoughts, alone so she could allow herself to drop the armor and let herself "feel." "I'm getting a little tired," she yawned, "so I'm going to go to bed."
"You sure you're not hungry?"
"No, just tired. Goodnight, Tea. Thanks."
"Goodnight."
As soon as she heard the bedroom door close, she allowed herself to lose control of her emotions. Her legs buckled beneath her, and she found herself sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her. As she sobbed, she brought her knees up to her chest and cried into herself.
"What have I done to my life?"
