After spending the rest of my morning talking exhaustively with Shelley Prinston from Montréal, I decide to head out for lunch. I need to clear my head. Our conversation got very heavy with memories from the past. Even though I wasn't ashamed to talk about it first with her, realising how dumb I was to have been fooled like that makes me feel very ashamed. I really need to clear my head and get back into a more positive mindset.
I walk straight to Starbucks, because it is the best and the closest option. The walk isn't that long, but the fresh air really soothes my nerves, and the sunlight softly peeking through the clouds energises me.
I'm starting to feel better when my phone rings. I stop by the building to have some privacy from the people walking on the street next to me and answer without looking at the caller ID.
"Hello?"
"Grace, it's Ash. I'm at your hotel, can we talk?"
"What is there more to say, Ash?"
"I don't want to leave things the way we did last night, and I'd rather do that in person than on the phone." His tone is gentle and kind, I can hear how genuine he is. And to be honest, I would rather end things better with him too.
I sigh and look around me, people are getting in and out of Starbucks minding their own business.
"I'm at Starbucks, I'll be there in twenty. I won't have much time before going back to work."
"I understand that. I'll see you in a bit."
I hang up and rush into the café. I order my usual iced caramel macchiato with a ham and brie cheese croissant to go and leave to see Ash. I'm about midway to the hotel when I realise how slowly I walk. I don't know why I'm dreading seeing him again. What will he say? What does he expect of me? I don't even know what to talk about? Somehow it stresses to see him again, and I would rather take my time getting back so that he doesn't stay long. I was looking forward to my time alone to recover emotionally from this morning's interview, and like every time in my life, it seems like I can't.
I find Ashley seated almost at the same place we were twenty-four hours ago, on the floor, next to the door room. Seeing him brings a genuine smile on my lips. I am happy he cares that much, because I really care about him. He has been a dear friend, and he still could be if he wants to be.
"Hey." He smiles the second he notices me by his side. He slides his phone in his pocket, and opens his arms for a hug.
I wasn't expecting that, but I really let go of the stress and tension I've been carrying around and it calms my nerves the same way that walk outside did.
"How are you today?" I ask him once I'm out of his arms and I unlock my door.
"Good, but I wasn't feeling right about how I talked to you last night."
"You had every right to be upset." I respond as I take off my heels and walk my way to the bed to sit.
"And I was, but I shouldn't have talked to you on that tone. And I'm sorry."
He comes by my side and sits on the corner of the bed, looking down, not knowing where to look. I slide back against the head of the bed and smile to him, inviting him to sit more comfortably next to me.
"Why are you still here though? Aren't you supposed to prep for the big European tour?"
Once I asked my question, I take my croissant sandwich out of the bag and take a big bite. The satisfaction spreads widely inside of me. I needed to eat. I am famished.
"We leave Edinburgh at two. But we have a week before leaving the country."
"That happened fast. A couple of weeks ago, you didn't even know you were touring outside the UK."
"Yeah, but it was already in talks when we joined Eddy. His tour was booked, but that didn't secure us the place as his opening band through his whole tour, only the UK. We'd hoped, and it came true."
"Are you working on a new album?"
"Yeah, we have a couple of songs written. We've talked about recording maybe two or three in Stockholm depending on our efficiency. Maybe more will follow when the tour ends. We'll see."
"Well, you've got me pretty excited." I wipe my lips before saying.
I look at him a moment, keeping myself from taking another bite just yet. He is smiling back at me, and I realise how easy it is to talk to him. I had forgotten about that.
At the same moment, I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I excuse myself, but still stay seated on the bed, having nowhere to escape. I look at the screen before answering.
"It's my brother, do you mind?" I ask Ash, but he takes it as his cue to leave.
He gets off the bed and shakes his head. He brings his hand to his lips and blows me a kiss before waving goodbye to me. My heart feels empty a moment, but as soon as I hear the door shut, I answer and find back my joy.
"Simon! Hi!"
"Hello Grace, how are you?"
"Feeling better than yesterday. How are you?" I ask him, and suddenly remember that Ronnie has been living with him these past few days since Steeve got her fired. "How's Ronnie?"
"We're both doing great. I've been working on her case with Steeve, she can tell you all about it when you get here."
"Here where?"
"Many, where else? To my flat."
"I didn't think I was supposed to come..."
"Isn't Will driving you?"
"We're still in Edinburgh. I stayed a day more. I'll have to confirm, but maybe we'll drive down tomorrow. Did you do what I asked?"
"No, no, unfortunately, not yet anyway. But if you say you'll stop by tomorrow, I'll do my research first thing. Maybe you could stay for dinner. We've never had you over. I don't think you've ever seen our flat." My brother excitedly suggests, and I love when he acts like that. It makes me feel so special.
"It's a great idea, but I don't remember you being a good cook. And I think William said something about the fact that you don't cook at all." I tell him, mocking him, but with a large smile on my face.
"Yeah, well I was counting on either you cooking or Will."
"Are you kidding me, Si? You invite me over and you want me to do the work?!" I retort, but only to make fun of him.
"Hey, call that an exchange of goods. I get dirt on your boyfriend and you cook for me."
"I can live with that."
"But if I find too much dirt, he's out. I won't allow it, not again." He responses very protectively, and it makes me smile.
I am so happy of the man he has become. I love that he wants me to be more a part of his life now. He is being extra protective, but it's what I like. He hasn't always been this way. He was annoying me when I was little, and it was hard dealing with my brothers and the hard time I was going through at school.
"I think I've learned from my mistakes. I'm a woman now."
"Indeed you are. You've changed so much."
"I had to." I tell him and sigh, having flashes of the life I had before. "I'm sorry, Si, but I have to go back to work soon. I'll talk to you tomorrow, OK?"
I hang up once he's said his goodbye. I collapse on my bed with another deep sigh, my back to the mattress. I don't even think about finishing my croissant or my macchiato, my mind is spiralling down memory lane.
"Baby girl? Are you sleeping?" I hear Steeve come back from the pub, probably drunk.
"Not anymore. How was boys's night?" I respond and open my eyes to look at him come into the room, not being gentle at all, making all the noise in the world.
"As usual, these losers-" He mumbles the rest of his sentence as he gets undressed, having issues getting out of his trousers. He loses balance and falls on the floor.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fucking invulnerable. I'm the master of the universe."
"I can see that." I say to myself, making sure he doesn't hear me or God knows how he will respond to that...
"Now get on your knees and let me take what's mine." He says victoriously, and as wicked as it sounds, I find comfort in hearing him say that I'm his. In my head, I feel like his prize, that --in a twisted way-- he wants me.
I oblige and being happy to. I take my panties and slide them to my knees as he climbs on the bed behind me. His presence is clumsy and I hear him tossing his penis to get it ready. I hear him curse behind me and spitting in his hand to lubricate his member to keep on masturbating himself.
Even with all these efforts, he isn't fully erect when he penetrates me. His hands eagerly claim my bare breasts and massage them uncomfortably. He is so drunk, he is hurting me without knowing it. My breasts get very sensitive as he applies too much pressure.
"Ah! Ah! Ah!" He hoofs with each thrust as the only sensation it brings me is the push of his pelvis against my arse.
It lasts maybe thirty seconds before he growls to my ear and ejaculates. I feel it all slide down my thighs. Steeve collapses on his side of the bed with another growl.
"Better feel lucky that I fuck you as good as I do." He mumbles again, and he literally falls asleep the next second.
Feeling good to have pleased him, I get off the bed, my panties still to my knees and head in the loo to clean myself. I come back with a towel to dry the wet spot on my side of the bed and wipe myself after. I slide my panties back up and I throw the towel in the washing machine to go back to bed.
I can't seem to fall back asleep. My head spins with thoughts about sex. I'm so happy I bring him so much pleasure and power when we have sex, because we have a lot of it. It's always been that way, but is it normal that I feel nothing? Is the pleasure of a woman supposed to be because of what she makes her man feel? Why is it praised when I can't feel pleasure at all? Am I doing something wrong? Is there something wrong with me and my body?
I didn't really sleep the entire night. I thought of a plan. So when the day has finally risen, I sneak myself closer to Steeve. I know he hates to be woken up, but at this hour, I think he can forgive me.
I lean into him and press a tender kiss to his check, then to his lips, to continue down to his chest. He wakes up gently when my hand wraps around his erect cock. It is rock hard, like it is every morning, but definitely not like it was last night. My hand covers the entirety of his erection and I rub it the way he always wants me to.
His eyes open, so I dive my lips on his and I try to take a little control. I try to straddle him, I want to be pleasured, I want to feel good, and I want to try every way I can to feel as good as he always does.
Except, he pushes me down.
"I want to fuck you, baby." I tell him, hoping he will let me do as I wish as long as he gets what he wants.
But he doesn't think like that.
"You don't get to fuck me, I fuck you. I'm the man, and you're worthless. And that's all you deserve for waking me up." He says harshly and pushes me again to make my face down on the mattress.
He jumps on me like a beast to its prey and widens my legs. He dips his penis into me and already lets out a moan of satisfaction.
"You're so wet, you're such a whore for me." He lets out from his high of pleasure and power.
He thrusts into me three times and comes. He growls loud and slows his pace, but keeps on thrusting, and somehow, I feel this tingle in me. It's very soft, but I ravish in that feeling.
He takes himself out and gets off the bed just as I was beginning to be happy. Being left alone face down on the bed, I get up as well and see him get out of the loo. I look at him head for his drawer and take his gym clothes. He barely looks at me, but when he does it's to offer me something.
"If I drop you to school this morning, after your shift at 11 tonight can you wait for me blind folded and on your knees on the floor in front of the telly?"
I look at him, completely puzzled, not knowing where this idea comes from, but if it makes me feel that little tingle again, I can't say no.
"Show me you love me. Make me proud of you. Be completely naked and wet for me when I come home from the bar. I'll make sure to get home when you're back." He seductively says as he makes his way to me with his gym bag.
I smile widely. He would be so happy. He would be proud of me. I'm going to make sure I'm the best girlfriend in the world.
"Yes, I'll be ready."
I don't know why my mind drifted to that memory. It wasn't particularly a pleasant one. I think it only makes me realise how deeply manipulated I was by him. That night, he wanted me blindfolded because he had invited his friends over. It took me a long moment before I realise Steeve and I weren't alone. And the only time I tried to confront him about it, he pushed me outside our flat and locked me outside. He shouted through the door that if I was disobedient to him, he would leave me with nothing. Exactly like how I was in that moment, standing barely clothed without my keys or my phone or even any money. I had to sleep at Ronnie's that night.
When I came back the next morning to get ready for school, he acted as if nothing had happened. After that, he acted like a normal boyfriend, at least, the kind of boyfriend he sometimes was: asking how my day was, taking an interest in me by talking to me. Sometimes he showed affection, and it was making it all worth it.
It pains my heart to realise how much of myself I had shut down to be with him, and I always thought it was OK, because I loved him. But I never loved him the way I love Marcel. It's like I had blinded myself that the 30% of feelings I felt sexually and romantically was a 100%. But now, I know what a real 100% feels. I now know that that tingle I felt when I had sex with him was nothing near coming or having an orgasm.
I get out of my train of thoughts that was going a little too deep and go on finishing my lunch quickly. I head back to the conference hall with my iced coffee and a strong need to sleep. With the hours that pass, the coffee starts to do its work and I don't feel as tired. It makes me enjoy meeting people. I still don't get a lot of attention, but the people that do stop and get interested in me, I take my time and passionately tell them what my story is about. I distribute lots of books, and try my best to sell my book as a very good read.
It's when I see people around me packing their stands and their books that Edith comes to my station. She seems happy, or at least contempt.
"I'm glad you stayed today. I've really seen interest from the readers. I'm proud of you. You've been very professional. My friend Shelley was very impressed with the interview you did this morning. She said you very opened up."
"I felt like I had to. I have nothing to hide. Everything that happened to me made me the woman I am today and I want people to learn from that." I tell her honestly, as I stop from gathering my books to invite her to sit by my side.
She follows my guiding hand to the seat next to me. We both sit and we look at the people walking by my station. We stay in silence for a few minutes. It's calming and I feel at ease. Her presence by me inspires me comfort. In a way, I still feel close to Marcel.
"I'm sorry I doubted you in the beginning." She finally says something and I realise it's by seeing the watch on my wrist. Her fingers brush it slightly and leaves it alone without mentioning it. "You seem to bring clarity into Marcel's and I's lives. At least, you've brought us closer."
"I'm happy that something good came out of our relationship. I'm sorry I couldn't be the one to paint the canvas as you asked."
"But you did." She tells me softly, and slides her hand on mine, next to the watch. "You made me see all the wonderful things he's done. He seems to have found who he is, and I adore it. You've made me realise that I had closed myself off just as much as he did. For what's left of his growth, I think he has to do it on his own from the circumstances that have happened."
"Paul and the break up, you mean?"
"Yes..." She sighs and eyes me a moment. A frown grows on her face, thinking, and I feel totally oblivious as to what goes through her mind. "What was the reason you broke up again?"
I look down and take my hand back from under hers to run it through my hair, maybe as a nervous habit. But why would I be nervous? I told her why yesterday...
"I'm terrified that Marcel is part of a pattern I keep falling into. Love got me blind to what was wrong and right. I won't let it happen again."
"What is wrong about your relationship with my son?"
"Nothing... Absolutely nothing. I think I'm the problem. My scars from my last relationship haven't healed enough to trust myself, and him..."
"Don't think of these two relationship as the same, because their foundations are far from being the same. Think of what you give and what you get back from each, you'll see. I was in this very situation with Andrew. I was finding comfort in what I knew, but he wasn't what I had known before. Sometimes the heart knows better than our heads."
"And you forgive him for what he has done?"
"He's my son."
"Even if he's murdered your husband?"
"I've always thought he did, because he had blamed himself since it'd happened."
"So he didn't physically did it?" I try to confirm what she says. Even though I feel it in me that he would never murder his father, my head is known for being influenceable.
"The case was never solved, and Marcel loved Andrew more than anything. Never in a million years would Marcel do something of the sort, but he has become so tortured since. I always had a glimpse of possibility inside of me that wanted to protect myself in case it was the truth."
"If he blames himself, than he needs us more than ever. If he's been wearing the guilt on his shoulders all of his life, I get why he acts the way he does. He has felt so lost for so long, it's time to let him know he is supported."
I can't imagine how hard it must have been like for him, and how hard it must have been this weekend, losing the only ally he thought he had. I let him down. I chose to believe a man I despise and distrust over the man I love.
It's time to right my wrongs.