Ambrosia

5

9:30 PM. The park. You know which one.

I'm looking at my phone flabbergasted. This number... even if I deleted it years ago, I still know it by heart. My veins are tightening up. What should I do ? Go there ? Answer ? Act like nothing is going on ? I know this is important, otherwise she would have never texted me. Sure I received a couple of letters over the years but I burnt them without reading. I wouldn't want my past catching up with me, would I ?

I can't say anything to Rebecca. No that's not it : I don't want to say anything to her about this. I don't trust her anymore. Over the five years we spent together, my trust in her weakened a little more every day.

She's cooking dinner tonight. I don't have the heart to tell her that her cooking sucks. Besides I feel woozy, like this text was a straight punch to the head.

- Becks ?
- Yeah honey ?
- I ... don't feel well. I'm gonna sleep in the guest bedroom tonight if you don't mind.

She frowns, trying to read my neutral expression. Wondering if she did something to upset me.

- My stomach hurts, I add with a grimace, and my head feels heavy. I think I caught the flu. I don't want to contaminate you.

I see some relief in her stare. She's onto me. She knows I think about leaving her but she shoves her emotions deep inside, trying to make everything look perfect. For her campaign, for her sanity.

- I can go out and buy you some medecine sweetie.

Sweetie. I hate when she calls me that : there's nothing sweet about me. I'm a ball of anger, bitterness and sadness. But I was sweet and gentile when we first knew each other and she acts like I haven't changed.

- No that's okay, I'll go tomorrow. Besides I have a ling day of writing ahead of me tomorrow so an early night's sleep might be what I need.

- If you say so...

Delicate wrinkles form on her forehead. She's worried, and I don't want her to be. I get up from the couch and walk straight into her arms. I need comforting. My whole body shivers as I think about that text and the urgency of it. What does she want...

I inhale, my nose in Rebecca's beautiful hair and I feel calmer already. She's the sweet one, always smelling of coconut and fresh shampoo and a drop of cinnamon. In this second I forget all about my dilemmas and problems. I just want to be close to my wife. I look at her in the eye and press my thumb on her bottom lip, gently.

- You are exquisitely beautiful you know that ?
- Hmm is that so... then stay and have dinner with me.
- I told you... I feel unwell. And frankly I never told you that but you're not the best cook.

She steps back as soon as I say those words and a shadow blacken her beautiful face.

- Okay Ambrosia. Go. I'm just gonna work and eat in my study. Goodbye.

The dismissal is harsh, so I know I hurt her feelings.

- Babe.. I'm sorry.
- It's fine, really. Go rest, you don't look well.

It's my turn to get hurt but I know it's the truth. I am filled with terrible emotions, it's like I'm on a boat in the middle of a storm.

- Yeah well see ya.

And I head for the guestroom, which frankly feels like the nicest part of our house tonight. Everywhere else is a battlefield.

As I lay down in the bed, I unlock my phone for the billionth time, and I finally type an answer.

What do you want from me ?

Three dots already. My heart beats louder than usual.

Just be there okay ??

I sigh and realize how exhausted I am.

But that night, I can't sleep a wink.

———-

When I finally decide to get out of bed the morning after, Rebecca is already gone. There are leftovers in the fridge and a post it note on my door.

Hope you feel better, your soulmate XOXO.

She went to work early. She thinks she did something to upset me and is trying to give me space, and in that moment I see a future for us, the same future I was so eager to share with her five years ago. Maybe we can work it out.

I decide to call her on her cell but it goes straight to voicemail, so I phone Sandra, her assistant - i don't particularly like her, she's pretty enough and young enough for Becks to take interest in her. And Even though I'm thinking of leaving her, I hate to imagine Rebecca with somebody else. She's mine. And she make me suffer.

The bimbo answers after two ringtones.

- Office of Rebecca Smith, how can I help you ?
- Sandra it's Ambrosia, I just wanted to call my wife, see if everything is fine ?
- Oh she's in a meeting with donateurs right now but I'll pass that along.
- Yeah well okay. Tell her I'm gonna be late tonight as well please.
- You got it.

I hang up. Today is Wednesday and even though I'm still weighing the pros and cons, I already know I'm gonna be at that park, on that bench at 9:30 PM.

————

I write all day, obsessed about my deadline and I transform my hundred pages of bullshit in two hundred pages of gold. I feel like a winner. I answer a quick call from my agent reassuring her : the book will be ready on time, and she will have her 30%.

I decide to take a ride around 5:30, knowing that Becks will be back in an hour. I'll just tell her I was with Julie, my best friend and occasionally therapist. The trip is long, but the view is worth it : a peaceful beach, children playing, families leaving and lovers arriving. It's that weird time of the day when everything ends and everything begins. I decide to go to the park early. My anxiety is through the roof : I swallow two pills of Valium.

—————-

- I thought you wouldn't show.

Her suave voice makes my ears ring and my ex girlfriend sits near me, on the bench we carved our initials in. The sun has set, but the moon glows in a way that I can see Rèva perfectly. And as expected she takes my breath away. She has cut her hair above her shoulders, and her caramel like skin is glowing. Her grand grey eyes are as tantalizing as a remember.

- Your text sounded serious. Besides I haven't heard from you in two years. I wanted to see you. (lie) Now what do you want. I have a wife waiting for me you know ?

- It's about her.

She takes a break to look me up and down with the smile that used to make my palms sweaty and my words nonsense.

- You haven't changed a bit Bee.
- Well you have Rèva. Now get to the point.
- It's about your wife. I think she might be in danger. I think you both might be in danger.

She passes me a postcard with nothing on it but our adress and a bunch of numbers.

- What does this mean...
- Someone wants you dead.