Maya by Shayne Ford

10

MAYA

A year later

Life hasa way of fucking things up.

Wiping things away with one strike so you can start all over again, just because.

Time is the master of doing that too.

Like a magician, it tosses things at you. Things that swiftly disappear as if they’ve never been there.

The key to all this is, there are lessons to be learned. Good, bad, and ugly lessons. All of them woven in unpredictable stories.

Tara and I are no exception.

Live and learn.

Many things had happened since that fateful night when Tara had run into Shade and later after I laid my eyes on Chad McKenna.

Chad McKenna was not like other men. And not because he was handsome and could start traffic with his good looks.

What am I saying?

The man could make women ovulate with his hooded stare and cocky smirk.

Chad McKenna had a heart bigger than anything I’d ever seen, and he showed it to me that night.

The only night we had together.

The night was perfect if perfection comes in the shape of a tall, dark-haired man with fiery, blazing eyes.

We read each other hearts in one sitting, experiencing hot sex, orgasms, a lust-induced daze, and everything else in between, like the painful awareness that all was bound to come to an end.

And then he left.

We kissed, we pushed back the regret flowing through our blood, and we made no promises.

Like two grown-ups––who otherwise couldn’t keep their hands off each other––we split up the following day.

He dropped me off in front of my mother’s house.

The limo waited for us while Chad and I had another goodbye kiss and another one. And another one.

Kissing each other, we couldn’t reach the end of the time we had together.

Maybe it wasn’t the end, but it was a break in our story.

I couldn’t let go of him, and he couldn’t let go of me.

We both looked tired––we hadn’t slept at all that night––and our party clothes were a little crumpled, but the fire in our eyes was intact and the way we touched untamed.

Eventually, our hands and eyes and lips had to say goodbye as well.

I watched him climb into the car before his ride glided away.

It felt as if my heart had left with him.

Torn, I spun around and walked into my mother’s house. She wasn’t home. Only the memory of my old life was, and it looked at me, smirking, anxious to pull me back to reality.

A day later, I started a new job.

A week later, I found a new place and moved in.

A month later, my old house was sold, and soon after that, I had my day in court, and my divorce was final.

Throughout that time, I couldn’t forget the man with obsidian eyes.

I assumed his old life had waited for him as well.

He was a student––he never hid it––and he probably went back to studying, spending time with his friends and family, doing what twenty-one-year-olds do.

We talked on the phone once, maybe twice.

My memory is a little fuzzy.

The distance between us swiftly had crushed us, erasing our bond.

As he attempted to replace everything we’d had that night when the words weren’t necessary, and he knew every quiver, flutter, thought, emotion rising in my heart, I knew it wouldn’t work.

He knew it too.

And it wasn’t only the physical distance. It was our all lives.

Our lives were so different.

Things felt easy in his arms. Everything made sense because we connected to each other in our purest form.

There was nothing between us, our bodies, and our hearts, but once we got away from each other, we were forced back into our old selves.

I had to deal with my past, overcome the difficulties of that present and become what I was supposed to be.

Slowly and surely, I turned into the woman I wanted to be. Autonomous, independent, free, self-determined.

I loved that woman, and I took great care of her.

Having that phenomenal night with Chad McKenna set the bar high. It was so high it prevented me from falling for another Matt or thinking that I deserve less than him.

Than a man like Chad McKenna.

He taught me something I should’ve already known. But learning later is better than never.

All that self-discovery came with a price. The immense regret of not having him.

Our timid attempts to keep in touch have fizzled out quickly.

He started to ignore my calls, and no matter how much I tried to give it a twist and make it look like we are long-distance friends, we knew it was all or nothing for us.

And nothing it was.

But life and time have not stood still.

Many things have happened in the meantime.

Matt and I went separate ways. It was the best thing for both of us, and we shared a life lesson. In hindsight, we realized neither of us was happy.

My take on it was myopic at the time. I thought I had gotten it wrong. But we both did.

He needed someone else, a different person, and in the end, I was mature enough to accept it and be happy for him.

More importantly, I wanted to be happy for myself, be free again, and be wiser.

His tryst with the older married woman didn’t last––as we all expected.

Like everyone else in my circle who has had a bit of life experience, my mother has predicted it too.

Things worked out in the end.

He found someone who he liked, and now he has a small girl.

After Shade had disappeared from her life in an attempt to fight his own war with his family, Tara bounced back faster than I thought and put all her energy into creating what she had always dreamed of.

He helped her in many ways, and something tells me he’ll be back in her life someday.

Maybe. I don’t know.

In the meantime, Tara and I have thought about ourselves and how to live our best lives.

A year or so ago, I couldn’t foresee what kind of shift would happen in our lives. But that’s how everything begins.

For us, it started with a conversation, two breakups, and two new men.

Every major storm starts with a few gusts of wind, sometimes with a breeze bringing in the smell of rain, a few bolts of lightning, and a clap of thunder in the distance.

Sometimes the sun shines brightly before the clouds gather at the horizon.

Cage, the clothing company Tara has started with Shade’s seed money, and I’ve become a part of, has surpassed our wildest expectations.

It has made us millionaires overnight. It helped us shift from working for money to making money work for us.

It helped us to move into better living quarters.

She runs the company while I oversee the marketing and executive branch of the operations as her business partner, and one thing is for sure. We are passionate about what we do.

Both involved in designing the seasonal collections and planning for our exciting future, we’ve broken all the records in terms of revenue and growth, and we’re looking to expand our corporation.

Securing funds is not our problem––the company is flushed with cash––but we’re interested in know-how.

Tara has started toying with the idea of meeting with investors, and today we’re having the first round of talks with a couple of them.

We don’t know much about them, other than that they’re looking for investments, and our company has caught their eye.

Their people have contacted our people, and that’s how we’ve scheduled the meeting.

Wearing a soft bathrobe, a cup of coffee clutched in my hand, I stand in the middle of my walk-in closet, perusing the dresses on one rack before checking the skirt suits on the other.

I’m more inclined to go with the latter, so I pick a skirt suit, turn around and enter the bedroom.

My eyes fly to the windows.

I love my new apartment.

My place overlooks the ocean, and the building is only a few minutes away from where Tara lives––we bought the apartments at the same time.

Glancing at the Californian shore stretching out in the distance is the best way to cheer myself up in the mornings.

I love my life, although as life goes… I’ve lost some. I’ve gained some.

I am no longer the vulnerable soul I was a year back. And I no longer have to reinvent myself.

Life has done it for me.

With money came new responsibilities, a different lifestyle––enriched yet more demanding–– and a different view on things.

I’m more in control and more pragmatic. I know what I want and what I don’t want.

And when it comes to my love life, well… Tara claims I’m still jaded after McKenna.

I argue that there isn’t such a thing, although many things changed for me after that one night with him a year ago.

Since Shade hasn’t been in contact with her, and Chad McKenna hasn’t been in touch with me, I let my attraction to him dwindle before becoming dust in the wind of life.

However, I didn’t let his memory die.

I’m still thinking about him. Not every day as I used to, but once in a while.

Sometimes at night, when lounging on the terrace with a cocktail in hand, and my eyes trained on the city skyline.

After McKenna, I didn’t even bother to find someone like him. But, I refused to be alone. Although I’m still single.

These days I’m doing what I should’ve done before I got married. I’m living experiences without getting attached.

Tara insists this is what she calls the McKenna effect.

Again, I think it has nothing to do with him, but maybe I’m lying to myself.

Funny thing is, I’m telling her the same thing.

She hadn’t been with anyone until recently after Shade had left.

She’s still mad at him. I think.

Sometimes things need a break like people do. And sometimes stories are convoluted.

After those two men, neither of us wanted a relationship.

That aside… I’ve gone back to that memorable evening with him many, many times.

Sometimes regretful, and frequently with a deep-seated need to relive those moments, to feel what I felt in his arms. To drink from that well of goodness.

Things made so much sense that night, and that’s why it’s so baffling that life has ultimately pulled us apart.

With gentleness but firmness at the same time.

I often asked myself if he had felt the same way. If he had thought about me. If he is still thinking about me.

Like me, I suppose he’s met other people too.

The thought, as logical as it sounds, makes my chest clench with pain every time I think about it.

Nothing has erased his memory. I wonder if that stands true for him as well. If I’m as alive in his memory as he is to me.

Chad McKenna.

Were we as special as I thought we were? Or were we a blip in the vast ocean of life?

Sighing, I set my coffee down, shed my robe, and put my clothes on before glancing in the mirror.

The skirt suit is business-like yet sexy.

A knee-length pencil skirt with a fitted waistband and a side zipper. And a tailored jacket with a slight peplum.

The color is to die for––a smooth tone of silver, like a misty morning on the golden coast.

It’s lined, and I wear it straight on my body with only a lacy teddy with cups and spaghetti straps underneath.

Without peeking from under the jacket, it pushes my chest up, creating an enticing cleavage.

My skin has a nice sheen from the sun and the lotion I slathered on after I took a shower.

“Good,” I murmur, spritzing perfume on my wrists and neck.

One last glance in the mirror.

My gaze moves from the tips of my stiletto to my padded shoulders, pastel lipstick, and almond-shaped earrings and necklace.

I’m trembling for some reason, and I don’t know why.

Too much coffee, maybe?

My eyes go to the breakfast table. My cup is there, half-empty, next to a flaky chocolate croissant. I have to cut back on caffeine. And sugar.

I smile.

Clearing my throat, I collect my purse and my phone and wait for Tara’s signal that she’s arrived downstairs.

It takes seconds before her text message pops up on my phone screen.

All right.

I swallow hard and head out, tenser than I’ve ever been since my divorce.