Ahhh, Orlando.
You didn’t even seem to take pleasure from him. I knew firsthand how you responded when you were in the throes of passion, and during no part of your hurried, one-sided interactions with Sergei did you appear to be enjoying yourself. How could you? He treated you like an object with absolutely no regard for your satisfaction.
Did you believe this was what you deserved?
It infuriated me to see you subjugate yourself for such a man. I told myself not to watch. I tried sincerely, but I couldn’t stay away. I loved you, for gods’ sake. Every time you capitulated to that man was like a dagger to my heart. On the few occasions you sensed my presence, your brow would set in a stubborn line, and you’d go back to whatever you were doing, which was more often than not, fellating Sergei’s cock.
Was I jealous? Irrelevant. I wasconcerned. You’d pushed everyone away—Bruno, Xavier. You hardly even visited Madame or your own mother. Even your dance friends began to see you as Sergei’s whore. Didn’t you understand how this would affect your career? You might always wonder if you got the part based on merit or because you gave good head.
You brought out the crassness in me.
You hadn’t been sleeping well, always haunted and restless. You tossed and turned and woke up sweating and twisted in your bedsheets. I wanted to cast calming seductions over you, but I didn’t want you to catch me at it. Without my influence, your moods became more tempestuous. You rarely smiled. Your eyes were dim and sunken from so many sleepless nights. I felt responsible—of course I did—but I’d rather you be unhappy than dead.
When it seemed your affair with Sergei wasn’t going to be short-lived, I decided I couldn’t stand it any longer. I inhabited Xavier one evening and wrote him a long, descriptive letter regarding the way you’d been conducting yourself. I needed his help to correct your course.
Xavier invited you for dinner soon after—some Cuban dish you favored—and after the meal, he delicately probed you on your career and overall well-being. He asked about your new relationship, which you denied altogether, and then, very quickly, you got wise to what was happening. Clever, clever boy.
“You’ve talked to Henri,” you said and rose slowly from your chair. Your cunning gaze swept the room, searching for me. “Is he here now?” Your eyes narrowed, your senses so finely tuned that the hairs on your arm stiffened.
“I don’t know,” Xavier said calmly.
Realization dawned on you. You knew I’d been watching, and you were furious. When you spoke, you were no longer addressing Xavier; you were speaking to me.
“You don’t like my new lover, Henri?” you mocked. “You think I’m makingunwise decisions?”
I remained silent. It took all of my willpower to do so.
You turned to Xavier again. “How did he communicate with you?”
Xavier looked as though he was considering a lie, then shook his head and retrieved our journal. To my dismay, he handed it over to you.
“What the hell is this?” you exclaimed, thumbing through the pages. “Likes asparagus… won’t eat raw broccoli… stubbed toe in the bathroom… too dark at night… needs a nightlight.” You read a few more of the entries I’d written about you during our time together. Some of them were quite… descriptive.
“Oh my god. He told you this?” You glanced up at Xavier, who looked supremely uncomfortable. “This is fucking private.”
“He thought…” Xavier shook his head. “He thought maybe one day…”
You flipped to the final page and read what I’d tried to communicate most recently. I’ll admit I was in an emotional state when I penned it, and I could have been more diplomatic in my wording.
“Is this what you think?” you shouted, aiming your ire at me. “That I’m acting like a whore?” Your eyes were red and puffy, a sure sign you were about to cry. “Well, fuck you, Henri. You want to judge me and call me names while you hide behind your powers like a fucking coward? Don’t go through Xavier or Bruno or whoever else. If you have something you want to say to me, you can come face me yourself.”
Your eyes landed on Xavier again, perhaps expecting me to inhabit him and fight with you, but what was there to be gained? I’d given my opinion, to a disastrous outcome. Still, the heartbreak on your face was hard to bear. I wanted to wrap you in my arms and give you the sense of security you craved so deeply.
But I couldn’t take such a risk.
“Fine,” you said, defeated. “Have it your way.”
You then shot daggers at Xavier. “I’m taking this with me.” You snapped the book closed. “You’re not under Henri’s orders anymore. Got it?”
Xavier nodded, looking miserable, and I regretted putting him in such a hopeless situation. I regretted writing the letter even more. There was a wild look in your eye that I knew all too well. You were about to make some very unwise decisions.
35
Orlando
Iwas beyond pissed at you. I mean, you spied on me, wrote about my most personal shit in a notebook for Xavier to read,andyou called me a whore. That fucking hurt. And if I needed therapy for my daddy issues, then you needed it just as bad for your mommy ones.
But after I cooled off, I could at least acknowledge that going to Xavier meant you still cared. And if that was the case, then your reason for leaving me might not be bullshit, at least not to you. You truly believed you might kill me one day, and as ridiculous as it sounded, that was why you were staying away.
