“And you, my dear, are hopeless.”
“What do you mean hopeless?” I almost wink at her but instead I laugh to myself, idiot she can’t even see you. You’re on the phone.
“Well, sweetie…you have no hope,” she replies in a singsong voice.
“Any news on Volde…the one who shall not be named?” she asks.
“No, I think I saw on Facebook he has a new book coming out.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, hold up I'm going to look it up.” I pull my phone away from my ear and place it on speaker. “Hold up, Jules, you’re on speaker okay?”
I click the Facebook app, and type in Ryder Matthews in the search engine. It feels odd. I haven’t done this in so long. Time had passed, I had changed, and thankfully one thing was obvious as his profile picture pulled up…I no longer yearned for him. I scrolled down his feed…and there was a teaser picture and a pre-order buy link. Underneath the buy link was the word: Synopsis.
“Oh shit,” the words come out in a whisper of confusion.
“What?”
“Holy fuck.”
“Oh my God, Av, spit it out”
“Holy fucking shit, Jules.”
“Oh my God, you’re killing me.”
Wow, I have no words at all as I read the cryptic blurb to the latest in the serial by ‘the one who shall not be named.’
“Let me read the blurb to you,” and as my voice shakes I relay the words to Jules that make my blood run cold.
She treated me like a puppet, tried to keep me on her beck and call.
Expected me to help bring her money, to lure in potential donors. Using my looks and name…
But I would have the last laugh, and as I drink my three thousand dollar bottle of Louis XIII, I smile to myself and plan how I will bring down the ice queen.
“You don't think he’s talking about her do you?” I ask in disillusionment.
“Does it really matter?”
“No,” and it didn’t. In the end…Ryder and Lenore are insignificant in my life now. Although I will always have her in my life…now Lenore is barely a thought, and she deserves what is coming to her.
And Ryder…
As much as I want to hate him, I can’t. If it weren’t for him…I would’ve never found myself. I would have never believed in love again. Instead when he is in my thoughts, sadness overcomes me for him. He will never be happy; he will never be content. No one will live up to his expectations, and in the end he is the only one who is truly lost.
Later that day, I find myself looking in the mirror. I take note of my reflection. I’m beautiful, and when I smile my eyes dance. It took a long time for me to realize and then believe that I’m beautiful because of my imperfections. I used to look at others for approval; my self-worth was a reflection of what others thought of me. But I no longer felt this way. Dr. Singer helped me see it. I wasn’t a reflection of them. When others looked at me with disgust they were simply looking at a mirror of the traits they hated in themselves. What I wonder to myself now is how many women have gone through this?
How many women have felt alone?
How many women have felt broken?
He had tried to break me, but in the end I’d had the last laugh because now I’m free.
I’m finally free.
THE WEEK COMES AND goes. Daily outings to keep myself busy and nightly phone calls to Alexandre make the week fly by. When the next Friday arrives, I find myself sitting and waiting for Alexandre to arrive. As I wait, I ponder what we will be doing tonight. Alexandre had been very vague, only telling me to dress in comfortable shoes and to be ready at 8 pm. I knew that all of the locations on the original wedding map had been done already, so I was completely dumbfounded as to what he could have up his sleeve.
When Alexandre instructs me to put on a blindfold, my excitement peaks tenfold. I can barely contain myself as right before I place it on my face, I notice him hand our cab driver a piece of paper with our next and final destination written down.
The ride is no longer than ten minutes, and before I know it the cab is pulling over to the side of the road and coming to a stop. I have no idea where I am. I tried to pay attention to the turns as he had driven but quickly became lost and turned around. Alexandre takes my hand and pulls me out. He pulls me close to him; his smell penetrates me. I want to bury my face into his chest and never leave.
His fingertips remove the covering from my eyes. My vision is temporary blinded as my eyes fight to refocus, then I see the Brooklyn Bridge in front of me, spanning across the East River.
“What are we doing here? I grin and ask in delight.
His voice drops an octave. “You once told me, years ago, that you loved bridges. I wanted to give you something you loved. I wanted to create new memories. I’ve realized that without you, Ava, there could be no beauty in my world.”