Tarnished Love by Bianca Borell
CHLOE
My heart hammers in my chest while he looks at me as if he’s in on a secret I have no idea about.
“I am so very mad at you.” This with him is what I am dying to have, and still, I can’t forget. Maybe it’s not about forgetting but learning how to live with it and forgive.
“I am mad at me too, beautiful.” He gets bonus points, ever since we came back, I love how things are between us. It’s hard to forget this part, the part where we were happy and all our broken pieces fit together like an abstract painting, subjective but mesmerizing.
“Tell me more about you growing up.”
“Except the part about having a dozen silver spoons?”
Laughter bubbles out of me at him being unapologetically himself, and I gesture for him to continue.
“My parents were pretty busy, and whenever they made time, it was always also related to the business. They did their best according to their own scale of parenthood, and they have always shown support in everything. They just demanded we follow two rules. Number One, privacy. Whatever we do, we do behind closed doors. Number Two, work hard. Put in the work to make sure we deserve to inherit their company. We had a normal childhood. I mean our kind of normal.”
“I was pretty much left to fend for myself, and I grew up fast. I started making my own meals at five. Yes, Filip, not everyone is born with your privileges.”
“You should be proud of yourself, look at what you did on your own.”
“At times I wonder if it’s just because my name has been associated with Damien.”
“You can think you don’t deserve this, or you can think you do deserve this. Friends should support each other too.”
“It’s still new, this entire lifestyle.”
“It’s been years, Chloe.”
“I don’t need all this.”
“But it sure makes everything more comfortable.”
“Why am I talking with you about this, you would never understand.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t listen.”
***
When we wake up, he takes me off guard right at the breakfast table.
“I sped down an empty road and wrecked Nico’s car.”
I choke on the cereal, a mix of pain and anger stretching uncomfortably in my chest.
“I did a lot of reckless and stupid things, but this one I remember. I hit something, and the car spiraled and collided with a tree. I was bruised everywhere. No one ever found out. I was with Nico for three weeks at his home. His parents were away. He might be a dick, but he and I would do anything for each other. He even took the blame. He got punished, and I had to drive him for an entire year.”
“You could have died, you idiot.”
“See, this is why I never told anyone. He said he drove because I was drunk as fuck.”
Tears pop in my vision, my heart breaks at his confession. I rush outside to breathe.
“Disappointed?” he asks, his voice inaudible.
“I am angry at you.”
“It scared me enough. I thought I had the car and myself under control. When I lost it, it changed my perspective.”
“Good.”
“I don’t do that shit anymore.” He wraps his arms around me. I soak in his warmth, his heart beating under my palm, and I rest my head against his shoulder.
“I caught a cold when I was twelve. My mother said it will pass. It turned out to be pneumonia. She said it was because I couldn’t spare her one minute.”
“Your parents never deserved you.”
“I wonder if I’ll be as bad a mother.”
“Shut up. No way.” I raise my chin and find pure confidence blazing in his eyes.
“Why are you so sure?”
“Because you care, and you’re aware what their treatment did to you.”
“I heard you will end up treating your kids as your parents did you.”
“I am sure we will be different.”
“Always so confident.”
“Always so pessimistic.”
I smile and relax. If something happened to him, we wouldn’t be here today. I love him, and I thought the kid thing would have shocked me, but him not entering my life at all would have been awful. Then why can’t I move on? I guess I am a bit of a hypocrite. In a rush he discards his shirt and slacks and runs toward the lake.
“If you catch a cold, I am not taking care of you.” He smirks. “Bria and Damien are getting married this weekend. Come on.” He dives, and I count the seconds. By a hundred and twenty, I fidget on the shore. By a hundred and thirty, I am jumping in while he looks at me and I remember he said he can hold his breath for three minutes. I smack his chest.
“You care.”
“Of course, I do,” I counter, while my teeth chatter, the cold water raising goose bumps all over my skin.
“My Chloe, wanting to save me,” his eyes widen with awe, and I forget for a moment the cold. He presses his forehead on mine, and my palm rests on his heart.
“I love you, I want you, I need you, I am mad about you. Whatever this week means to you, whatever you decide, don’t forget that this is also my truth.”
“Filip.” My voice turns weak, almost pleading, but to stop or continue, I don’t know.
“Shh, I’ll behave,” he says, I should be relieved, I am not.
Later after a hot shower, I hop on the bed, tucking myself under the thin blanket.
“I am cold.”
A half lie, or a half truth, whatever. His hot body wraps around me. I want this badly with him, that for a moment I don’t want to remember why we broke up. I kiss his chest while he stiffens.
“Chloe,” he rasps while my mouth ascends to his neck.
“You said . . .”
“I know what I said.”
“No, no. I won’t lose you. Forget it and stop making me weak.” His anger amuses me, he’s so determined. He didn’t lose me, I am still his, but I am too afraid to want this. He rolls me off and presses my back to his chest, his hardness poking my behind, and I giggle while he scoffs.
