“Okay. Then can I at least have your number?”
Come to think of it, I’m an idiot for not asking for it earlier, but he and I always met at the cake shop or at other places. We’ve moved quite fast and seen each other so often that there’s been no real need for me to ask before. Now I wish I had because my hope is short-lived once again when he shakes his head quickly and silently.
My heart breaks just a little. How was that too much? I’m watchingmystep, moving slowly because I don’t want to freak him out, but how could exchanging phone numbers after three dates and sleeping together possibly be wrong? What the hell did I do?
“I’ll see you later at the cake shop, then?” I ask in a final, desperate attempt.
He nods without looking at me. By now, he’s already out of bed and getting dressed, whereas I’m still naked under my sheets. I’m debating what more I can say when he’s putting on his shirt and shoes. What can I do to keep him here? Is there anything I can do at all, or will it only drive him further away?
I sigh, looking at him, and just then, he meets my gaze. For a split second, I think he’ll change his mind and stay, but then he says, “See you later, Cody. Thanks for the sex.”
I open my mouth and close it again, utterly lost for words. Did he really just thank me for the sex? God, that actually makes me feel dirty. I try to wrap my head around it, asking myself if I would say that to anyone I wanted to go on another date with, and the answer is... no. No, I would never say that to anyone I was genuinely interested in, unless maybe if it slipped out accidentally. But to say it in a clear moment like this? Never.
I let the meaning dawn on me, struggling to make sense of it, but long before I’ve even come close to understanding what’s happening, Luc has already walked out of my bedroom and closed the front door of my house behind him.
What the hell happened just now? Things were looking so good before this. It doesn’t make any sense... no sense at all.
***
The following days prove that what I was afraid of is true: I have no chance with Luc. Maybe I did at some point, but when it came down to it, he wouldn’t give me his number or stay with me longer than necessary. Now, even my visits to the cake shop don’t amount to anything because Luc isn’t there. The only person in the store—besides customers—is an older man standing behind the counter. I don’t recognize him, but I’m guessing he’s Luc’s father. I’m also fairly sure he saw me standing outside at one point, but I wasn’t going to talk to him. What would I even say? “Hello, you don’t know me, but I fucked your son and now he won’t talk to me anymore, do you know why?”
No, that sounds like a bad idea on all levels. I don’t even know if Luc is out of the closet. And even if he is, I could never say something like that. Because if his father doesn’t kill me for it, Luc himself very well might. Perhaps I could ask the man where Luc is, but... how would I explain to Luc’s father who I am to his son? And if Luc doesn’t want to see me, why should I even try?
Now, with no idea what went wrong and lacking any way of getting in touch with him, I’m depressed and heartbroken. I liked him a lot; I still do. He’s exactly my type, and I felt like we clicked. I had serious hopes that we could start a relationship, and to get there, I gave it my all. But what’s the point of any of it if the feeling isn’t mutual? Nothing at all. Not a goddamn thing.
I’m a mess right now. And with my job, I can’t afford any mishaps. I have to be at the top of my game all the time. If I ignore a possible threat or misinterpret data, the consequences to the bank may be severe, and my ass will be on the line. But how can I function when every time I think about a certain cuteguy with a heavy French accent I want to crawl into a corner and cry?
It also doesn’t help that I think about him a lot. Sometimes I dream about him too. In some dreams, he looks at me with that cold expression, one eyebrow raised, and tells me he never liked me anyway. In others, he kisses me and tells me he loves me. Those are the dreams that hurt the most because I always wake up alone, and when reality hits me, I’m left with only hurt and an even stronger sense of longing. I wonder if he still even thinks about me at all, if he knows about my pain, and if so... if he considers it worth it.
The past few days, I’ve seen both too little and too much of my bedroom. I dislike being bound to my bed when I’m sick or depressed, but God, I loved it here when I had Luc with me, sleeping or awake. Since he left, the house feels empty, and I feel so alone.
It’s times like these that make me miss my family, that make me wonder if I should just return to Canada. If I were home, I could see my parents, my brothers Brian and Barry, and my sister Kim. No doubt they could help me try to forget my broken heart. And I would certainly feel less like an alien there. Everything’s different here in Belgium: the people, the timezone, the buildings, the language. At times, I’ve thrived on it, but now I feel lost. Lost and sad.
Everything combined, it’s all too much, and I can’t keep myself from crying. I want to go home and be with my family, but I also want to stay here and have Luc back. But both those things seem impossible. I have my responsibilities at work, and I can’t just leave, and I’m not allowed to fall apart. It’s not an option.
My pillow becomes wet from my crying. It’s unpleasant, lying on it, but I can’t stop more tears from coming. Wiping them off is hopeless. Every one of my attempts to pull myself together fails.
I’ll probably never have him here again. If I knew sex with him was going to be a one-time thing, I might have savored it more, but I didn’t get the chance to. It’s strange because when I asked him afterward if it was worth repeating, he said “absolument” without hesitation, so what changed in the meantime? What did I do during the night that had him change his mind? Did I snore? Say weird things in my sleep? I have no idea, and I guess I’ll never know. That’s the worst part: just being left to guess, never getting any closure. Was I just a cock attached to a warm body? Someone who gave him attention when he needed it? The person who helped him move on from trauma after years, just so that he could disregard me immediately after? Maybe to him, I was all of that, or perhaps nothing.
No matter how long I lie awake, trying to figure it out, I will never understand. And that’s what I hate most of all, even more than the heartbreak—the never knowing why.
Chapter 11: Luc
Things didn’t go as planned... or as they should have. The beautiful, kind, thirty-six-year-old Canadian man—who I referred to as Daddy in the bedroom—will never know how much he upturned my life and how much I loved the way he did it. Because I didn’t tell him. At one point, I’d considered saying it, but I panicked. Partially because I was afraid to expose myself, because I feared it didn’t mean the same to him, and mostly because life doesn’t end the way fairytales do. Life doesn’t end with “they lived happily ever after,” even though we want it to. At best, life ends with, “they worked hard for years, fought for their relationship, no one cheated, and they stayed together until one of them died.”
No, that doesn’t sound nearly as catchy as the fairy-tale ending, does it? But I feel that it’s the truth. Maybe thinking like this makes me cynical, but I prefer to consider it as realistic. Realistic but also, honestly, sometimes quite lonely.
Last week, I meant it when I told Cody that having sex with him was worth repeating. If I’d done it as often as I’ve thought about it in the past week, I wouldn’t have been able to walk anymore at this point. It sucks, though, because I’d hoped I would have been over it by now, but if anything, the urges have become stronger. Maybe I should have given in to them when I could, but I panicked. For that, I blame my dad, who tore me away from my home in France when I was fourteen, and my first boyfriend, who humiliated me when I was sixteen. And maybe it’s also how I’ve always been. I strongly believe it shouldn’t be this hard, but leaving Cody and not looking back feels impossible to me.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was sure he’d tire of me quickly, but he didn’t. After I insulted him and gave himdisgusting cake at the shop, he came back. When I introduced him to my friends—some of the most attractive people in the world—he only paid attention to me. And when I told him about my body and my insecurities, that didn’t turn him off. He only became more invested. And I don’t like admitting it, but I’m invested too.
Based on how I’ve been feeling lately, I’m infatuated and crushing hard. I can barely eat or sleep, and I’m miserable half the time, feeling like something—or someone—is missing. It’s a good thing I haven’t been working, because if I had, I would have failed at that too.
I’m close to allowing myself to think I could have had something great with Cody if I’d stayed, and part of me desperately wants it, but how could I have expected this? He was supposed to give up and prove that what I thought about him is true: that he’s just like everyone else. Except he’s not, and I think I knew that from the start. It’s why I could easily see myself falling in love with him, and after mainly relying on myself for years, knowing that scares me to death.
***
Time is passing slowly. It’s only been a week since I last saw Cody, since that amazing night we spent together, but it feels like much longer. I’ve spent most of my time alone here in Maxime’s apartment, daydreaming and thinking about Cody. I haven’t worked because I’ve been very purposely avoiding the cake shop. Instead, I’ve been cooking and cleaning the apartment, which not only helps me distract myself, but also makes my living here a suitable arrangement for both me and Maxime.
