Girly moves in to embrace him needily, wide-eyed and overly enthusiastic at luring him away from me, but Alexi somehow manages to block her attempt discreetly and leans to give her a quick peck on the cheek before turning on his heel and walking off quickly. She looks surprised, crestfallen at his rebuff, and I just turn and walk out first so he doesn’t need to open the door. It should give me a sense of satisfaction, but it doesn’t. I’m too low in the pits of misery and self-pity to feel anything else.
I guess she was boring him, seeing as his attention span to women is about three point five seconds on average.
We walk to the car, feet apart and I completely ignore him; Simmering inside and cursing myself out for being stupid enough to ever go anywhere with him. I should always remember that he does shit like this to get at me, all the time, and just because he’s being nice or appears like he’s not the shit head he used to be, it doesn’t mean a damn thing. I get into his car and don’t wait around for him to open my door, buckling up quickly.
The car journey is much like the meal—Silent and strained.
Two people lost in thought as we stare in different directions, and it’s obvious there is a growing agitation in him as the air crackles between us. We drive for about two minutes before he finally kills the quiet and snaps at me.
‘What is it? What did I do?’ Alexi sounds pissed, surprisingly, and I just throw him a look that’s meant to say ‘you’re a bit mental, love’ acting like I don’t know what he’s talking about.
‘Don’t even give me that look … innocent and confused don’t fucking suit you!’ Alexi retorts again, only louder and much more venomously, and like a good old shake, he riles my temper too. Bringing it bubbling out of my cesspool of rage.
‘Oh, give over.’ I answer in a very British way, accent slipping to common as he has annoyed me that much and roll my eyes at his overreaction. Silence was fine … he obviously cannot abide being ignored.
‘What the fuck did I do?’ Alexi repeats, anger brimming hellishly in that tone, and I just bite like the idiot I am. Fire matching his as my calm melts away in the volcanic lava that boils up from deep within.
‘Parading your fucking conquests in my face like fucking always. Is that why you took me there? To have yet another woman thrown in my fucking face! For daring to deny you and pissing you off?’ I rage at him, turning in my seat aggressively to face him off, but he just gawps at me like I’m stupid.
‘What? That’s not what I did … and she’s hardly recent … I slept with her when I was eighteen years old, Cam. It didn’t even cross my mind!’ He sounds angry, maybe worse than me, but as I am spitting bullets and ignoring all the inner warning about making him mad, I carry on.
‘Whatever. I don’t fucking care anyway, so just shut up and leave me alone!’ I spit at him violently.
‘You don’t care huh? Yet you sat in a foul mood and made lunch unbearable, all because some girl I fucked over ten years ago came near me. Really seems like it.’ He lets out a sardonic laugh and I just rip my gaze away and stare out the window, knowing I just walked into that one.
He now knows I am still jealous … fucking idiot that I am.
‘Maybe I do okay, but so what? You spent the best part of six months tormenting me with other women, so excuse me for still being sensitive about that whole thing and not appreciating it being rubbed in my face.’ Tears bite me and I inwardly curse my inability to remain emotionally stable around this man. He just brings it out of me like a torrent of unleashed water that I have no control over.
‘I’M FUCKING SORRY!!!!’ He yells at me so loudly it’s like a boom, making me jump in reaction, and I just spin on him with a death glare of fury; Seat belt straining with the effort of containing me.
‘SORRY DOESN’T CUT IT!’ I screech straight back, right in his face, incensed with the nerve of the prick. More so as he puts metal to the floor, giving it more gas and speeds up our journey back to the club. My heart ends up in my throat as I cling onto my seat in sheer terror, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me scared at his driving. He’s only trying to get at me.
‘Neither does giving you half my club, my apartment, my time and attention or my fucking patience, it seems,’ Alexi snarls. Tone moving to that low and serious psycho level I used to melt into a puddle at hearing, but not this time, not anymore.
‘You can’t buy forgiveness, Alexi!’ I snap, battling myself to try to remain calm as the swirling fury builds up inside of me to combat my exploding nerves.
‘So tell me how I do gain it, Cam? … because I have no fucking clue when it comes to you, and whether you believe it or not … I am sorry for what I did to you. I am just so sick of trying to figure out how to prove it.’ He sounds fed up, angry and just over this whole conversation already.
‘Maybe I need to know why? Maybe you just need to tell me what it is that I did to deserve it, so I can understand why? What it was about me that made you want to destroy me … I need to understand why you did all that and then U turned completely and brought me back again. MAYBE I need to know what happened in those four months that changed you from a total prick to someone who takes me out on lunch dates and buys me birthday gifts like he might actually give a shit. I don’t get it … I don’t get how you can go from hating me to acting like you might care, or is all this still just a game to you? How am I expected to believe anything you say or do when I don’t trust any of your motives?’ It’s out in a whoosh of tears, hatred and frustration. Hands shaking, body stiff as I confront him and Alexi falls instantly silent, deadpan taking over as he looks at me and swallows hard.
There’s a long silent stretch as he looks from me to road and then back again; Furrowed brow deepening, a look in his eyes that I cannot place, and then he sighs heavily and swallows again.
‘I didn’t hate you … I cared. I always cared. I just didn’t believe you or trust you. I read you all wrong and I hurt you to punish you for getting to me in ways I couldn’t control.’ He sounds different. His anger has dissipated, replaced with a quieter wounded tone. A hint of emotion in his voice, sombre, and losing all his aggression.
I actually believe his words for once because there is something in his deliverance that says honesty. I don’t know why I know, but I do.
There it is though, between us—the confession I needed to hear that night when I held a gun to my head, whether it’s true or not.
Too little too late.
‘Believe me? … What do you mean believe me? What are you talking about?’ I pick apart his dialogue and assess it, but that one sticking point needs more clarification. I feel all messy in my head, jumbled up and clinging onto the last ounces of calm as confusion mingles with some sense of hurt and relief at getting a real answer from him.
I look at him pleadingly … brain going back to the million times we were together and what exactly I did to be doubted.
I didn’t tell him how I felt until he had me twisted up inside, chewed me up and spat me out. I don’t understand what he means by that statement. I never lied to him or told him anything he could take as a lie. There was nothing to not ‘believe’ in any of it.