Arsen Read online

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  For my beautiful family, you illuminate the darkness within me.

  I’m lost.

  I’m drifting away…

  Drowning in a sea of sorrow and pain as waves of regret keep pulling me down where an undertow of resentment won’t let me break free.

  Maybe I should just give up?

  As I stare blankly into Dr. Pajaree’s beautiful dark eyes, listening to her prognosis in her pragmatic, yet friendly voice, I can’t help wondering where the magic has gone? Is real life contaminating our fairy tale romance with all its ugliness?

  Yes.

  Maybe.

  “It’s better known as habitual abortion…recurrent pregnancy loss… RPL…three or more pregnancies that end in misca…”

  With my arms tightly wrapped around my stomach, I rock back and forth as I try to listen to what she’s saying, her words drifting in and out of my consciousness.

  I know I should be paying more attention because she’s explaining to me why I’m not woman enough, why I can’t keep a baby in my body long enough to be able to hold it in my arms, but all I want to do is shake off the cold blanket of numbness that enfolds me.

  It’s not working. I’m still so very cold, so very dead inside. Feeling Ben’s strong arm wrap around my shoulders stops the manic rocking, but even his warm embrace can’t help me get rid of this helplessness threatening to take over.

  I wonder why doctors wear white coats. It’s such an ugly color.

  Sterile.

  Ben gives my shoulder a supportive squeeze, waking me from my drunken-like stupor.

  “Tell us what to do, where to go, who to see...it doesn’t matter. We will do it, Dr. Pajaree. No matter what the cost is,” Ben says, not letting go of me. Focusing my gaze on Dr. Pajaree’s face once more, I listen to her next words.

  “Yes, Ben.” Dr. Pajaree looks at Ben with understanding in her eyes for a moment, then turns in my direction. “Cathy, since this is your third miscarriage I think it’s time we ran some tests on both of you. I’m talking about parental chromosome testing, blood tests for thrombophilia, thyroid function, ovarian function…if we can identify the cause for RPL, then we can look at treatment options.”

  “E-Excuse me. I need to use the ladies’ room. Sorry.”

  The chair makes a horrible screeching sound as I forcefully push it backwards and leave the room, but I don’t care. Running to the bathroom, I lock myself inside and stand in front of the sink. I notice a sheen of sweat covering my forehead and my entire body seems to be shaking slightly.

  Swallowing hard, I close my eyes as I try to compose myself.

  I can’t have another panic attack.

  I can’t.

  “Cathy! Open the door, Cathy! Please, let me in,” Ben pleads as he bangs on the door.

  “Please, Cathy. Open the door.” There’s a hint of desperation in his voice.

  Not wanting to draw more attention to us, I open the door and let Ben in. As soon as he walks through, he enfolds me in an air robbing, soul crushing hug and buries his face in the curve of my neck.

  “Babe, please…don’t give up. It will be okay. I promise you, I’ll leave no stone unturned. There’s no place in the world where I won’t take you, there’s nothing I won’t do until we have a child to call our own. I promise you, Cathy.” Tightening his grip around me and pulling me closer to him, he roughly whispers, “For you I will do anything. Anything.”

  As I return his embrace, I believe the earnest prayer he’s chanting in my ear, and I believe his words with my whole heart, but even Ben can’t stop the numbness settling around me, settling around my heart.

  I can feel myself withdrawing from him.

  From his love.

  From my marriage.

  And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  Nothing.

  “Babe, can you pick up the dry cleaning today? I may be running late. Amy needs me to go to the airport and pick up the new guy.”

  My husband lifts his brown eyes from the newspaper he’s holding, and smiles the same smile that robbed me of my breath the first time I met him eleven years ago.

  “It doesn’t rob me of my breath anymore”.

  Sometimes it feels as if I am living with a man who I don’t know. A man whose face seems familiar but remains a stranger.

  Sometimes I feel like the normalcy of our lives will drive me insane.

  “Sure, no big deal. Just remind me who this new guy is?” He puts the newspaper down on the table and runs his hand through his short black hair. Looking at my husband now as his lips touch the rim of the coffee mug, I realize how handsome he really is. The realization that I seem to have forgotten what he looks like, truly looks like, hits me like a running bull in Pamplona.

  Am I so desensitized to him that I have forgotten how his maple-brown eyes shine like the brightest gemstone when he looks at you straight on? How his gaze is as penetrating as the tip of the needle when it pierces your skin? I seem to have forgotten that when he smiles a little dimple appears on his left cheek. That dimple is taunting me, begging me to kiss it, but I don’t. I really don’t have time to be sitting here, admiring my husband. I have to get to work.

  “Cathy? Are you listening to me?” He’s waving his large hand in front of my eyes, trying to get my attention back. I snap out of my reverie, refocusing on his face and his mouth. He’s speaking to me, but all I hear is the annoying electric buzzing of the landscaper working outside in our garden.

  Buzz - Buzz - Buzz - Buzz

  Trying to clear my thoughts, I shake my head. “Sorry, babe. The landscaper is distracting me. What were you saying?”

  Tenderly smiling at me, Ben says, “Your boss, Cathy. You said Amy wants you to go to the airport and pick someone up tonight?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m not sure who the guy is, but apparently he’s coming with his son and wife. I think he’s going to take over the company. I don’t know. Anyway, I’ve got to run.”

  Standing up, I make my way to my husband and bend down to kiss him on the cheek. As I’m straightening, Ben grabs the back of my neck and guides my face back to kiss him on the lips. Startled, I don’t immediately kiss him back until I feel his tongue trying to make its way inside my mouth. I open my lips to welcome him in, and we begin to kiss earnestly. His tongue tangles with mine as I feel his hand sneaking up under my skirt, making its way to my core. When his thumb hooks under the edge of my panties and moves them aside, his middle finger enters me and I break the kiss.

  I straighten my body completely and look down at Ben who just grins widely at me. His lips look moist from our kiss, and I can’t help laughing out loud when he smiles at me like that. I think he has two speeds—horny or tired.

  “Seriously, Ben? I have to get to work.” I turn around, but Ben’s hands grab my waist from
behind and pull me back to sit on his lap.

  Oh, my…

  He laughs in my ear as he nudges my ass with his huge erection, “Can’t help myself around you, Cathy. You’re just so damn sexy in the morning. Come on, it will be a quickie.” His tongue is inside my ear, tracing its contours while his hand goes back to work under my skirt.

  “Ben, stop it. I have to get to work. I’m already late…as…it…is…”

  “Yes, baby?” he huskily whispers in my ear.

  Oh, those fingers of his…

  Recognizing what is going on, and what I don’t want to happen, I push his hands off my body, and stand up. As I look down the length of my body trying to smooth my skirt free of wrinkles, and pacify the rapid beating of my heart, I notice that my hands are shaking. After taking a few calming breaths, I look up to see him watching me with a raw and naked hunger as he brings the finger that was just inside me to his mouth and sucks it.

  Hard.

  Ben pulls his finger out and his tongue follows behind, tracing the lingering flavor of my body on his lips. I feel a powerful shot of heat surge straight where his hand was not too long ago.

  When Ben realizes that I’m not moving, he chuckles then grabs me by the hand, pulling me forward and lifting me until I’m straddling his hips.

  “Babe, I’ve missed you,” he says roughly.

  As he leans down to nuzzle my neck, I sense some sort of desperation growing within me. I do want him. I want him to take the lead, make everything go away. His hands close around my wrists, moving them to wrap around his neck, then he grabs my ass, pushing me against his erection.

  “I need you, babe. So fucking much,” he says before he lets go of me and begins to slowly unbutton my silk shirt, pulling down my bra and exposing my breasts to him. Without breaking the kiss, I let go of his neck and unbuckle his belt, unzip his dress pants and pull down his boxer briefs. I take his hard erection in my hand and begin stroking him, feeling the strength of his dick in my fingers.

  “Enough,” he says roughly as he puts a hand over mine, stopping me. “Let me.”

  I nod, allowing him to do whatever he wants to me. We become frantic, our need for each other vibrating through our bodies, and we barely have time to lift my skirt and slide my panties to the side until he pushes forward.

  “Fuck, you’re wet.” We both look down to where our bodies are connected and watch as he begins to pull out of me. There’s nothing more sensual than watching your lover’s arousal as it leaves your warmth covered with your body’s reaction to his touch. Covered in want.

  Connected as we are, I’m overcome by this feeling of wanting to be owned by Ben. To drive him mad with desire.

  “No more talking, Ben.” I pull his head down towards mine and kiss him once more, letting the rhythm of his thrusts set the pace of our lovemaking.

  After I reach my release, Ben allows himself to do the same. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters.

  Breathing heavily, with our arms still around each other, my legs wrapped around his waist, and our bodies cooling off, we look at each other and smile. Whatever desperation I sensed in me before has dissipated.

  For now.

  “Damn, wife, if that’s what you call breakfast,” he grips my hips, “I think I may never skip it again.” He smirks.

  “Better than coffee?” I ask, blushing.

  Ben throws his head back and laughs. He cups my cheeks, and makes me stare at him until I lose my way in his brown eyes.

  “Yes, so much better than coffee,” he caresses my lower lip with his thumb. “I love your smile, wife. Even after all these years it can go straight to my…” he nudges me gently, still inside me, “and my heart.” He leans down and plants a soft kiss on my smiling lips. “I love you, babe.”

  “I love you, too. I guess we need to take another shower before work.” I untangle my legs from his waist, our bodies disconnecting, and get off his lap. Wrapping my shirt around my bare chest, I make my way to our bedroom with Ben following close behind.

  When my hands land on my empty stomach, I shut down the voice inside my head, reminding me of the overwhelming emptiness spreading inside me like a black hole, sucking all the happiness around me.

  The voice telling me that everything remains the same.

  Or not.

  I didn’t fall in love.

  I walked smack into it and then fell flat on my ass.

  I hate rain.

  Okay, that’s a lie. I like it just fine when, say, I have an extra set of dry clothes on hand and an umbrella. So you could say, I’m pretty pissed off at Mother Nature right now.

  As I stand outside Lerner Hall and watch the rain pouring angrily down from the sky, I contemplate whether I should take a cab or walk to the nearest subway station. Either way, I’ll be soaked to the bone as soon as I step away from the student center. I swear sometimes I feel like the song Ironic by Alanis Morissette should be my personal soundtrack.

  Sighing, I get ready to step into the rain when I hear my phone ring. As I’m about to answer, a group of gorgeous and intimidating sorority girls walk past me throwing condoms my way, shouting as they go, “No Glove, No Love!”

  Embarrassed, and blushing like some silly heroine from a regency novel, I pick up the condoms off the ground and shove them quickly in my bag before anyone notices them surrounding me. Great. I don’t even have a boyfriend, and now people are going to think I’m a sex addict.

  Now I really need to get out of here.

  The moment I start to walk, my phone begins to ring again. I struggle with the zipper on my bag to get my phone while dodging a student with a huge-ass umbrella. As I avoid a big puddle coming up, I completely miss the guy who is walking straight at me.

  When our bodies collide, I fall on my ass in the very puddle I was trying to avoid in the first place, smashing my bags on the ground.

  What the hell just happened?

  More surprised than anything else, I stare at the pair of wet leather loafers in front of me.

  Stupid puddle. I want to cry. Shit, my ass is wet. Now, I’m getting very angry.

  Okay, Cathy. Breathe. Get your act together and give this guy a piece of your mind.

  With all these thoughts running through my head, I don’t even notice what the guy who’ll soon be getting some major shit from me even looks like. So when he kneels down in front of me, trying to shield my face from the falling rain with his own hands, I am frozen. Paralyzed. Gone are the thoughts of my wet ass.

  Are those lips for real?

  Shit, I feel my face lighting up like the Macy’s Fourth of July fireworks. I need to say something, and quick, but all I can think as I stare into his maple brown eyes is that I want pancakes with syrup...lots of maple syrup.

  Snap out of it, Cathy!

  I open my mouth to say something to the gorgeous guy with the yummy lips and laughing eyes kneeling in front of me, when he awkwardly says, “Um, I think you better stand. Your things…um, your things are getting wet. Here,” he says, offering me his hand.

  As he helps me up, I notice that everything has fallen out of my bag, of course.

  What else could go wrong?

  Scanning the mess, I quickly realize why he wanted me to get my stuff. Next to my wallet, between the books scattered all over the wet pavement, are about ten, guilty looking, condom packages.

  Mother. Fucker. Shit.

  Now I really want to die.

  I mean, carrying protection is great, but these aren’t my condoms!

  Quickly, I kneel down, keeping my eyes to the ground. Feeling so embarrassed by the whole thing, I don’t notice that Mr. Loafers has done the same until we end up knocking heads as we both try reaching for the condoms at the same time.

  “Ouch!”

  Rubbing my head, I look up at him and watch him mirroring my movements as he tries really hard not to smile. It’s impossible, really. The whole situation is hilarious, so when our eyes meet, my stomach doing Olympic-level pirouettes, we burst out laughing.
/>   When we stop, we stare at each other for a minute too long. Oblivious to the rain falling down on us, I let myself get lost in the moment and in the color of his laughing eyes. It’s almost as if gravity is suspended and we’re floating in slow motion.

  I’m thinking of ways to break this electric silence between us when he clears his throat about to speak, and that’s when it happens.

  One moment I’m staring into his eyes and feeling butterflies in my stomach, and in the next we find ourselves drenched in dirty water from the streets of the Bronx.

  Yes.

  Slimy, smelly, yucky water is on my hair, my face, my clothes, and all over him as well.

  “What the fuck, man!” The beautiful boy shouts after the car that just drove past us splashing us with water. He turns to look at me and lets his eyes stare at my wet t-shirt a little too long before we make eye contact again. Instead of blushing or stammering an apology for so blatantly staring, he grins. “Guess we better move. With our luck, if we linger here any longer we might get struck by lightning.”

  I’m slow at reacting as he speaks to me because, for one, I am truly stunned by his low baritone voice, and two, the way the light is hitting his wet hair makes the black curls shine like an expensive mink.

  I nod in agreement since it seems I have not only lost my ability to think but also speak. Together, we collect all my belongings and put them away.

  Yep, even those stupid condom packages.

  Once we are ready to get up, he sticks his hand out, saying, “Let me help you up.”

  By the time we’re standing, my hand still in his, we look at each other without moving, one willing the other to say or do something, but nothing happens. The rain continues to fall all around us, more heavily now than before, but it doesn’t seem to faze us. It’s like we’re in our own little time capsule, where everything seems to have stopped. I can barely see his face without constantly wiping the raindrops from my eyes as his very tall figure looms above me.

  Slowly, his face moves towards mine. Halfway, he stops and looks at me as if asking for my permission to do what I think he’s about to do. My mind is chanting the words, “Kiss me…Kiss me…” as if they are a holy communion. Throwing all logic and caution to the wind, I close my eyes, stand on my tiptoes, and let the moment take over.When we finally kiss, our lips touch so softly, so intensely, so magically, but I don’t feel like lightning has struck me, or that the world has stopped moving. No, the feeling is unique. Special. Like I am being cleansed from the inside out, the rain washing away all my past mistakes, my sorrows, my hurt. And in their place, taking root, is hope.