Fighting Weight Page 19

  “I believe you. I’m sorry, too.” I pause.

  “What I said to you—” Slater starts to speak, but I cut him off.

  Shaking my head, I lean over the table, placing my finger over his lips. “It’s all right, Slater. I get it.”

  “You do?”

  “We both played a part in this, so now we move on and work to fix it. Work to build a trusting relationship where we both give and take. I’ve got to learn to open up. That’s on me. It might take me a little, but I want to get there with you. I want to be able to share parts of myself with you. I’ve got a lot of learning and growing to do, but I want to find that place where I know I can let you in.”

  Deciding to put him out of his misery, I slide my chair over so I’m closer to him. Leaning in, I wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him in, ready to admit that I want him, too. “I’ve missed you. I feel it, too, Slater. I feel it so much. I want you as a friend, and as more…” I whisper into his ear.

  When I’m done, Slater holds me tighter than I’ve ever been held, and it feels perfect.

  “Fuck, Ali, hearing you say that makes me so damn happy,” he smiles, looking me in the eye. “I promise to do everything I can to prove to you how much it’s you, and only you. I’ll be there when you’re ready to share all of your pieces with me, and in the meantime, I’ll take whatever I can get.”

  I nod my head. “We’re doing this?” I ask, feeling a tear of relief run down my face.

  “We really are,” Slater says, cupping my face in his hands before resting his forehead against mine.

  “Now, let’s not miss the showtime,” I smile, needing a break from the seriousness of our conversation. “Before we go, I have to say this. It’s difficult for me to say, but you can’t ever use other women to hurt me, Slater, ever. I can’t take seeing that. I’m too hard on myself as it is, and last night seeing her with you nearly broke me. I realize you might want more of an explanation for why I’m saying that, but I need more time to get there, to get to that place of trust with you. Can you accept that?”

  “I can accept it. And know I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to open up. No matter what happens, Ali, I want you to believe me, you can always talk to me. I’ll never take you for granted again. I’ll wait as long as you need me to,” he says sincerely, before taking my hand and walking us back inside the space centre.

  “How’d you find me, anyway?” I ask.

  “One guess.”

  “Roxie.”

  “Yep, after she nearly chopped my dick off. We talked and I got her to cave.”

  “Huh. Well, you must have said all the right things, because as of this morning, there were three girls, other than me, ready to maim you—especially Roxie.” I laugh, wrapping my arm around his waist, loving the way it feels to be this close to him.

  I might not be ready to open up today but I know with Slater by my side, I’ll get there someday.

  Before the show starts, I whip off a quick text to Roxie.

  Me: thank you, Rat.

  Rox: *squeak squeak*

  Slater and I spend the afternoon taking in as much of the space centre as we can with all his fans milling about and gawking at us. We talk, laugh, look at meteorites and moon rocks, and—best of all—work to rebuild our bubble.

  40

  Slater

  I remember standing outside Alina’s door again at one o’clock this morning and thinking that knocking probably wasn’t my best move, yet I couldn’t give any fucks. After her revelations yesterday at the space centre, I had to see her.

  After catching a Canucks playoff game with the guys from Sicken Union this evening (with Oliver and Charlie in tow, of course), I’d had enough. Despite their grumblings, I ditched the guys as soon as the limo dropped us back off at the Opus Hotel. I’d passed on their invitation of going to drink in Rain’s suite, and party with a few fans we’d met at the arena. Even after some good-natured ribbing from the guys about being whipped by Alina, I still said no.

  I remember being pretty drunk, thanks to it being Rain’s birthday, and I remember the fuckers making me feel guilty for not partying. I remember taking the elevator up to the seventeenth floor and standing outside her door, swaying, trying to work up the nerve to knock. I remember feeling nervous, worrying I was coming on too strong by being there, but shrugging it off because things have been incredible between us since yesterday after our talk at space centre. And I remember thinking that the last thing I wanted to do was fuck things up. But I had to see her.

  I remember raising my hand and knocking, once.

  Twice.

  And a third time, before I heard her rustling around on the other side.

  I remember her opening the door, and the sound of her sweet voice as she said my name: “Slater?” She looked sleepy, and fucking edible. A fluffy white terrycloth robe was wrapped around her, her hair a dark, tangled mess. For a second, I remember feeling like a complete tool for disturbing her, until she rubbed her eyes and looked at me as if she couldn’t believe I was there.

  “Hey, Shadow.” I’d leaned against the doorframe for support, drunker than I thought. “Did you know you’re my Shadow now?” I asked before going on. “I came to visit. I missed you.” Then, “I wanted to smell you,” fell from my mouth before I could filter my drunk-assed self. Fuck me, I remember thinking. I’d clearly had more than I thought. I knew I needed to reel it in, thinking that we hadn’t even kissed yet, and here I was telling her I wanted to fucking smell her?

  Thank fuck she giggled at the sight of me before uttering, “I’m not so sure about jumping into sniffing so soon in our newly-formed relationship, but, yes, I like the thought of being your shadow, so I’ll let it slide. Would you like to come in? I have water. I think you need water.”

  And I remember saying, “I’d love to,” and working hard not to stumble over her as she leaned against the door to let me pass.

  What I don’t remember is what I might have done to make her freak out, the way she is right now in the light of the morning.

  I had awakened feeling warm, my head nuzzled deep into the crook of her neck, her robe open and my hand resting on her hip over the boyshorts she was wearing underneath. And now she’s standing beside the bed, tears streaming down her face, and I feel at a total loss.

  “Ali, please, tell me…what did I do?” I ask, confused, getting up and moving towards her side of the bed.

  “No! You need to stay right there, Slater. You can’t, I can’t…oh God,” she sobs, tying—then retying—the plush robe more tightly around her body.

  “I don’t know what I did…” I whisper, shaking my head, totally confused. “All we did is sleep, Ali. I swear that’s it.”

  “I kn—know,” she stutters, “but your hand…it was there. You—you f—felt it.”

  “I didn’t feel anything, baby. I swear. I’m sorry, my hand must have slipped in my sleep. I wouldn’t ever touch you without your permission.”

  “You don’t get it!” she yells, and I freeze not knowing what the hell to say, or how to comfort her.

  “You’re right. I don’t understand what’s happening at all.” I run my hand over my buzzed head, at a total loss. Her blue eyes flare with hurt…anger…regret? I have no fucking clue.

  “I need you to leave. I need space. Time to think,” she says.

  “Ali, please don’t shut me out. Talk to me,” I say, sitting on the corner of the unmade bed, the white sheets soft, like the memory of her skin.

  “I can’t do this right now. Please, Slater, go. We can talk later. Right now, I need to be alone,” she pleads, walking over to the dresser and picking up a small wooden box, one I’ve seen her looking through before, that night on the rooftop in Regina.

  Rising from the bed, I reluctantly agree to give her what she needs. “I’ll go. Know it’s killing me to agree, but I’ll give you space. I’m sorry I upset you—”

  “Don’t you get it?” she cuts me off. “It isn’t you, it’s Her. I’ll never shake He
r. I’ll never be normal, or what you deserve,” Alina shouts, throwing the wooden box against the wall. It splinters as it crashes to the floor, its contents scattering all over. Watching her running to where it lies broken, and falling down on the floor beside it on her hands and knees, almost breaks me. The last thing I want is to leave her like this, but I honestly have no clue what to do. I’ve never felt so useless before. I’ve seen a lot of fucked up shit in my days, but seeing Ali like this shatters something in me.

  “Ali, let me help you,” I try, taking a step in her direction, wanting so badly to pick her up into my arms and promise her everything will be all right, but she stops me.

  “Just go, Slater, please. I really need space.”

  And with that, I leave her confused and pissed about something I’m not sure I’ll ever understand. I do it for her. And I hope to Christ that whatever darkness has pulled her under gives her back to me when she’s ready.

  Instead of going to my room, I find myself knocking on another door, waiting for what feels like forever for it to open.

  41

  Alina

  Climbing into the plane’s cramped cabin, I suck in a deep breath. I square my shoulders, knowing what I have to do. It’s time to face the music. I know my mission, and I’ve come prepared to win. The prize is much too great to let it slip from my fingers because I think I’m too weak to fight. I’m not that girl, not anymore.

  Walking up the aisle, I stop beside seats 12A and B. I steel my nerves, look down at a caught off guard Slater, and ask, “Is this seat taken?”

  “You know it is, baby. Come sit down with me,” Slater says, half-standing to let me pass, the feel of his strong body comforting as I slide past him into my usual window seat, a seat I’m grateful he left empty for me.

  Stowing my bag under the seat in front of me and buckling myself in, I turn and face Slater, taking a moment to stare. How the hell did I get so lucky? How is this man still here, waiting for me?

  “I owe you an apology first, then second, an explanation,” I say. “I’m not sure this hour-and-a-half long flight from Vancouver to Edmonton is enough time, but I’ll try as best as I can. I won’t promise that I’m ready to share everything, but I’m ready to share a few pieces.”

  “I’ll take all I can get. I’m happy you’re sitting here with me, more than anything. I’ve been so worried, Ali. Been crawling outta my skin.”

  “I know, Slater, and I’m sorry. Sometimes I have a one-track mind, and I don’t think of how my issues affect those I care about. I want to thank you for sending Roxie to check on me. It was really sweet. And she helped a lot,” I tell him truthfully.

  “I panicked. I hated leaving you. I left then went and knocked on Roxie’s door,” he admits, looking unsure. “I asked her to make sure you were all right.”

  “I know. She told me when she came over. Going forward, I plan on trying harder to open up rather than shutting down,” I promise, reaching for his hand and interlacing his fingers with mine.

  Not long after Slater had left my hotel room that morning, I’d collected the items from my thrown self-soothe box, and carried them to the bed. I sat there going through them, crying and pissed at myself for reacting to Slater the way I had. I was embarrassed, and worried I’d pushed him far enough away that he might not ever come back. I’d barely heard the soft knock at my door over my own sobs.

  Slipping off the bed and peering through the peephole, I was so relieved to see Roxie. Swinging the door open, I let myself lean into her open arms. I start crying a little harder, and started to ramble on about all the hows: how I broke my box, how this time I’d probably lost Slater for good, how I didn’t think I could do this anymore, how the stress was getting to me, and how pissed I was at myself for acting like this.

  Once getting me back inside, Roxie and I lay on my bed for what felt like forever, and I talked and talked. I confessed to her how Slater touching me wasn’t what had set me off, rather it was the fear of disappointing him. How I was worried he’d feel too much fat, that he’d see what I looked like and compare me to girls like Sasha, who were skinny, gorgeous, and exactly the type of woman a man like him deserved.

  After I’d apologized for being such a burden, it was Roxie’s turn to talk, and she went off. She pretty much called me out on my bullshit. She said she was pissed off at me for ever doubting her or the other girls, and assuring me that they would never see me like that, reminding me over and over that this is what good friends do. She also seemed pretty convinced that there will be many times in our lives when she and the others will need me and my kindness in return, just as much as I need them now. I told her I’d be there in a heartbeat if ever any one of them ever needed me. Roxie nodded, admitting she had no doubt, and how I was a really good friend, too.

  Once she was done, we ordered room service. While sharing a cheese pizza and a laugh, we agreed it was time for me to talk to Slater.

  And now, I am.

  “I hate myself,” I blurt, but quickly correct that, staring intently at the back of the airplane seat in front of me. “I mean, I used to hate myself. I’m working on learning to love myself. I’m getting there, but it’s a slow process. It’s taken me almost two years, and here I am, still falling apart…” I start. Slater simply nods, urging me to go on. “I didn’t have a good childhood…at all. I’m not ready to get into it right now. One day I will. Anyway…” I say. I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, wishing so much that I was brave enough to use the hair tie that always sits on my wrist. I am waiting for the day when I can finally tie my hair up and back and let my face be seen, wishing I could will myself to just let Slater see the me I always try so hard to keep hidden.

  I continue. “When I was thirteen, things were really bad. I wanted to feel numb. I wanted some power and control over my body and over my mind, so I did something about it. I turned to food. I ate, and eating turned to guilt, which led to a cycle…and I began to self destruct.” I know I’m being vague, but I hope he will infer my meaning, because I’m not ready to say it out loud to him. Not yet.

  “Alina,” Slater says so softly, squeezing my hand more tightly.

  “I didn’t mean for it to consume me. I hated what I saw when I looked at myself.” I pause. “It’s a feeling I still get. I try not to look, then yesterday…your hand. I didn’t want you to feel what I see. I didn’t want you to change your mind about me because you felt and saw what lies beneath my clothes. I tried to move to sleep on the love seat, but you wouldn’t have it and kept holding me even closer. It’s my fault. I should have fought you harder, maybe. But for the first time in my life, I wanted to feel something other than the emptiness. I craved the feel of you beside me, I wanted to be in your cocoon. Even though I freaked, I still wanted it so, so bad,” I tell him honestly, resting my head on his broad shoulder.

  “Fuck me,” he says. “Sweetheart…it hurts to hear this. I know you might not hear me when I say this, but I mean it, and I plan to help you realize it. To me, you’re beautiful, inside and out. I loved waking up with you in my arms, and I’m telling you right now, I know deep down that you liked it, too. I vow here and now to take baby steps with you to get us there,” Slater says, kissing my cheek. For a few minutes, we sit, our heads touching and our fingers entwined, letting our new reality sink in.

  “So, tell me about the box,” Slater says.

  “It’s my self-soothe box…or it was. It holds things, different things that make me feel good. A picture of my brother Lucky and me. A few Post-it notes listing things I love, reasons to fight. A few poems and quotes, an essential oil rollerball—stuff like that. I have a few of those boxes in different places: at work, in my purse, in my bedroom. I pull them out when I feel myself slipping. It helps calm me down. Gives me purpose again.” I still can’t believe I smashed one. That was a new low. “Speaking of which, I’ll have to stop somewhere and find another box. Right now, everything’s in a Ziploc bag. That doesn’t feel right for things I cherish and rely on so much, to be
tossed around so haphazardly in plastic, you know?” I shrug.

  “I figured as much.” I feel him shifting beside me, reaching under the seat in front of him. Sitting up, I give him the room he needs to get whatever he’s looking for out of his bag. His earbuds, no doubt.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been babbling on,” I say. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

  He sits back up, his right hand hanging beside him in the aisle, concealing something. “Are you kidding me? No way, I’m loving this. I want us to talk, always. I just want to give you something. I went to this really cool store after Googling it last night, and asked the owner to help me out, and I bought this for you.” Slater smiles, a little unsure, and hands me a smallish, dark blue, black and silver wooden box. My breath catches when my eyes land on the box’s lid.

  “Slater. Oh my god. It’s beautiful. It’s perfect.”

  “Like you.” Slater rubs his thumb along my cheek. “And, one day, I’m going to kiss the hell out of you, Alina.”

  “One day really soon, I’m going to let you,” I giggle, resting my head back on his shoulder. I run my fingers over the etched-in lines carved along the box’s face, lines which match the ones on my inner wrist and form Cygnus. The silver stars dotting the constellation on the box top twinkle invitingly in the sunlight coming through the window. And for the first time, I start to feel like the swan Cygnus represents, rather than the ugly duckling I’d convinced myself I was for so long.

  “Thank you again, Slater, so much.”

  “No, Ali, thank you for trusting me. I’ll never take it for granted,” he says, kissing the top of my head. We sit in comfortable silence for the rest of the flight.

  It wasn’t until I was alone in my room hours later that I opened the box, and found Slater’s ticket stub from our day at the space centre, along with a folded note that read:

  To remind you of the day you gave me a chance to be more.

  Slater