The Persistence of Memory

Chapter Twenty Three

As I'm emptying the drawers I pull open the second one down, my heart freezing in my chest as I see them. There, right at the back, her torn white lace silk knickers. I'm scared to touch them incase they disintegrate in my hand. Maybe it would be better if they did. I stare at them for almost a minute before slowly reaching in to pick them up.

They feel warm. Soft and warm. They remind me of her skin and the place between her legs that I'd never get to feel again. My chest tightens painfully while my dick throbs with want. So whilst I try and hate her I still want her. How is that fucking fair?

Had she cried and told him she was sorry? That I was a mistake? How hard did she let him fuck her to try and erase me? That's what I'd have done if it were reversed. If I was her husband. Would I have forgiven her for it? Most likely. But then, I'd most likely forgive her anything. Perhaps though, I didn't need erasing. Perhaps I was gone the moment I left that fucking lake house.

The force of my grip on the warm material makes my hand vibrate and my knuckles turn white.

"You really should eat something, mate," he says from the doorway of the bedroom, cutting through my trance. I blink a few times and ball the scrap of underwear inside my own and carry it over to the case.

"I'll be back at Rosin's tomorrow, Pat, no need to do the stand in thing anymore," I tell him as I sip my cold black 'Irish coffee'. I need another.

"You've barely eaten in three days," he points out.

"I was busy. I'll eat on the flight."

He sighs and steps further into the room. "Ready to tell me what happened yet?"

"Nothing to tell."

He looks at me skeptically. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Aidan, for fuck sake," he sighs again.

"What, Pat? What is it you want to know exactly?" I snap. "What do you think happened? Didn't you predict it right from the fucking start? You were right. You're always fucking right. Congratulations."

A look of pity comes across his face. "Yeah well, for what it's worth, I didn't want to be right about this one."

"You didn't? Oh, well that makes all the difference mate, cheers," I say as I press hard down on the top of my suitcase to flatten the contents.

I see him contemplate retaliating but in the end, he bites his tongue and says nothing. As I swallow the last of my coffee his stare burns into the side of my face. When I turn to look at him again he looks sad and I feel guilty for my outburst. None of this was his fault. Course I know that. He warned me. He encouraged me too —not that I needed any —but at the start, he did warn me. 

"She's sorry," I say, my tone calmer. "That's what I got. She's sorry."

"Well, maybe she is."

The rage returns and I narrow my eyes at him. "You on her side or mine here?"

"What side, Aidan? What are you on about? Don't be a bloody child for fuck sake." He rolls his eyes.

"A child?" Eloise had called me that too. So had Alford in fact. I need another fucking drink.

"Yeah, a child. She's married Aidan," he states without a hint of irony.

"Oh, she is, Pat? I had no idea. Thanks for the fucking newsflash."

"Did she say she was going to leave him? Did she give you a single tiny hint that she was looking for a way out of her marriage? No, I'm betting not. So quite frankly, if you thought it was going to end differently you were kidding yourself." He drags a hand through his hair and gives me another of his sad looks. "But then, you've always been kidding yourself when it comes to her, haven't you? You literally have zero grip on reality when it comes to this woman, Aidan. You never have." He turns towards the door but then stops and turns back. "But you know what? Maybe all this, what happened here, is a good thing, because maybe now you can get over this. Maybe now you can put this ridiculous childish fucking obsession with her to bed and move the fuck on." He exits the room angrily.