Page 11 of Second Chances
“What happened this morning?” she asked calmly, trying to keep the emotions level before either of them did something else that they would regret. “You were so determined; it was like you couldn’t even register what I was saying.”
“There are some things you need to know about me,” he began, standing up abruptly to walk to the sideboard and pull out a glass, proceeding to fill it with what looked like Scotch or whiskey. He half turned back towards her and held up a glass, “Do you want some?”
“No, thanks…” she responded quietly, giving him the space to continue his explanation.
He took a sip of his drink, still facing away from her, waiting for his liquid courage to soak in. When he turned around, she could see the difference in him. His face, his expression was completely composed, cool, and nonchalant, but in his eyes, the pain that he was reliving by sharing whatever had happened was vibrant.
“Fuck,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair one more time, “First, you have to know that my whole life I’ve been groomed to be dominant, to be controlling. I was the only son, the one who had to take over our firm, our corporation, our ‘business empire,’ as my father liked to refer to it,” scoffing at his last statement. “When it came to school or business, I was conditioned to take immediate, absolute control of any situation or suffer the consequences.”
“What were the consequences? Did he abuse you?” Beth couldn’t help but interject, imagining Darcy beating physically punished as a young child.
“No; I mean, not in any significant way physically, but mentally, emotionally, I’m sure you could say that.Fuck,”he paused to take another sip of his scotch. “He wasn’t a bad person, he just had standards; standards that were clear-cut and non-negotiable; standards that I was measured on for more than half of my life. Sometimes I think he resented me for being smarter and savvier than he was, and that was why he couldn’t even meet the standards that he set and probably why he decided to keep George Wickham so close; George wasn’t a threat to him. None of that fucking matters now; I don’t know how to be anything else, that’s what I’m fucking trying to say.”
“It’s ok, I understand,” Beth replied soothingly. She didn’t want to ask about the specific memories that must be playing in his head right now, as they were clearly painful and frustrating him. Trying to sound as calm as possible, she continued, “But, being with me isn’t business; it’s a relationship. Surely there’s a distinction in your mind between the two, right? You shouldn’t need to feel like you are controlling me…”
His reaction to her response was immediate; the knuckles on his hand holding his drink turned white, his jaw muscles clenched, and his eyes looked like they turned black.I guess that’s not the whole story.Just as she thought he might crush his glass, he raised it and chugged the substantial remainder of the alcohol. Half turning around, he grabbed the decanter to pour himself another drink.Wow, it must be bad.
“I was in a fucked-up relationship, for a long fucking time,” he said sneeringly as the alcohol splashed into his glass.
“How long?” Beth asked quietly.
“Six years,” he said flatly, turning back to face her. His expression was dark and full of anger; even when he had been upset with her, Beth had never seen him like this.
“How was it ‘fucked up’?” she hesitantly questioned on.
“How was it not fucked up?” he retorted acidly.
Beth knew better than to take his tone personally, but it was still hard to see him so angry. She didn’t say anything this time; she just held his gaze, hoping that he found encouragement in it.
“I was with someone for six years who wanted me to treat her like business, with dominance and control; just like she treated me,” he laughed harshly, “Fuck, not even wanted. She expected me to try to dominate her, and if I failed, she would fucking tell me that I was worthless, that I was boring her, whatever-the-fuck-else mind games she wanted to play; just like my fucking father. If I wasn’t controlling her, dominating her, fucking her, if I lost control in any way, she would leave; she would disappear for days, or more, ignore me, my calls, and my messages to punish me until I found her, or she let herself be found - who fucking knows. I’d blow up at her and suddenly, I was interesting again.”
She knew how difficult this was for him to talk about, how deeply he had been hurt, by the number of expletives and vehemence in his voice.
“How many times did she leave?” Beth asked softly, in shock, wondering how someone could be so cruel.
“I don’t know. Probably three or four times a year; more near the end.” He took another swig of his drink.
“Did you love her? Did she love you?” she asked, before realizing what words had come out of her mouth. Her breath caught as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. The second or two that she waited for his answer seemed like hours in slow motion; her heart clenched painfully at the imminent potential of learning that he had loved someone else.
“I thought I did, but I was a fucking idiot,” he said resentfully. “She was a little older and I think I was addicted to her. How I am works in my business and when I met her, I was high on that feeling of control and when she encouraged that physically and emotionally, I fucking fed on it; I loved the high of being in control, which I stupidly thought meant that I loved her, even though I didn’t; and she sure-as-shit didn’t love me.” He paused to let out a bitter laugh. “The first time I told her I loved her, she slapped me and told me if I ever repeated those words to her, I would never see her again. Naively, I thought it would just take time for her to develop those feelings for me. The next time I brought up having an emotional relationship, not just a physical one, she tied me down, fucked me, told me that powerful people don’t have emotions and that she expected them to be gone for when she got back; she was gone for two weeks.”
What the fuck is wrong with this woman?
“How could someone do that? Or say those things? Emotions are part of a relationship, especially one that lasts six years,” Beth said in astonishment.
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing; it was no wonder Darcy treated her the way that he did. She didn’t think it was possible to separate emotions from sex, yet that was what he had been trained, forced to do, in order to keep happy and stay with the woman he thought he loved.
“She probably knew that; it’s probably why she went on her little vacations every couple of months so that she could detach herself from feeling anything substantive,” he reflected as he stared into his glass, swirling the liquid around.
“What happened?” Beth asked softly, wondering what had put an end to the relationship - if you could even call it that.Did she leave him? Or did he leave her?
“It ended. She left for good, and I moved on,” he said, giving the impression that he didn’t want to elaborate.
“So, this morning…” Beth trailed off, wanting to know how his brain had interpreted the situation.
“Ahh, fuck,” he sighed, “Well, I wanted you, there’s no question about that - I always fucking want you; it’s distractingly embarrassing. When you told me that you had to leave for work, even though I knew you wanted to stay with me… She would do that; she did that. She’d want me to fuck her but tell me that she had to go to work or to a meeting and it was all a test. The first time I backed down, she didn’t come home for the weekend. I didn’t put the two together at the time. The next time it happened, she was gone for a week; that time I asked why and she told me that that is what happens when I let her leave, that I won’t know if she’ll ever come back,” he finished, looking disgusted with himself.
“I’m sorry, Darcy. I’m sorry for what she did. I don’t want you to feel like that around me. I’m not like her; I need to know what you are feeling. I need that,” Beth pleaded.
