Page 62 of Seventeen Years Ago

She was real. This wasn’t a hallucination. I wanted to pull her into my arms and never let her go. I’d never been so happy to see anyone, and at the same time, afraid of what was to come. She had a knack of seeing what I wanted to hide. And I had so much I was trying to hide, even from myself.

Aiza, I’m sorry. I know what you want, but I can’t give it. I can’t be the man you want me to be. Not anymore.

Trying to use my poker skills, I was going to do whatever it took for her not to get hurt any more than she obviously was. “What are you doing here?” I asked, still standing in the doorway.

“Right now, enjoying the view from the hallway. I’m not sure about America, but this would be considered rude in Tabiq,” she stated.

Opening the door wide I said, “I’ve been accused of a lot worse things, but rude is not something I want to be with you.” She entered my penthouse apartment, and I noticed her looking around. “Housekeeping hasn’t had a chance to come in.”Cause I haven’t wanted to see anyone. But you’re one that I can’t ever deny. Just one look into those beautiful eyes, and I’m yours.

She turned to me and said, “Do they shower you too?”

Ouch. That was low.

“I have been busy,” I stated.

“Too busy to shower? Wow. That must also be the reason why I haven’t heard from you in three days,” she said sarcastically.

I know I’m an ass. And evidently, she does too.

I didn’t know what to say to her, so I stopped communicating. But saying the wrong thing seemed to be what I was really good at right now. With her catching me off guard, I was probably going to fuck things up even more if that was possible. “If you’d like to come back another time, I’ll be sure to shower first,” I tried joking.

“No. You don’t smell...much,” she teased.

At least you still have a sense of humor. You’re going to need it coming in here.

This was not how I had envisioned us seeing each other again. I wanted her to leap into my arms and kiss me. I’d carry her to the bedroom and make love to her. Both were only in my dreams. Reality was we needed to talk. And I better come up with some answers, because I knew she had questions.

“Might as well sit and tell me what brought you to Boston,” I stated.

She moved the blanket I had been using for the past couple of nights to one side and then sat. “I came to see you. But that should be obvious.”

“And how did you get past the doorman without him messaging me for approval to let you in? Usually they are so diligent that even deliveries have a hard time getting up here.

“That was the simple part. I told him that you’ve been going through a rough time and I’m here to cheer you up,” she said.

Great. They think you’re a call girl.

That is not the reputation I want her to have here. Next time I see the doorman, I’ll clarify that.

“I’m busy, that’s all,” I replied. I couldn’t share with her what Bennett told me. It was horrible enough for me to learn what had happened. She didn’t need that vision in her head too.

“How do I say this?” She looked at me closely and said, “I don’t believe you. The only question is, what happened? What changed from the time you left me to the time you got back in Boston?”

“Maybe I am this guy?” I said, still not ready to talk about it. “I mean, what do you really know about me, Aiza?” I knew my tone was harsh, but I didn’t want her to come to try to fix us. Us was impossible. I should’ve told her that right away after what I learned about Michael.

“Steven, I know all I need to know. But if you want to tell me what happened, I’d really like to hear that.”

“I know you don’t. Remember everything I told you about my father?” I asked. She nodded. “This is ever worse. Never thought I could say that, but it is.” It ripped my gut into pieces and all the pain I experienced when I lost my brother flooded back.

She looked around again and noticed the photo on the coffee table. Picking it up she said, “This must be your brother.” I nodded. “You have his eyes and chin,” she said.

“We were similar in many ways, not all good.” I wanted to take the photo from her hands, but she sat back just looking at it.

“This is why you’re so troubled. It’s about your brother. Is it the anniversary of his death or something like that?” she questioned.

“No. I’m just...thinking about him a lot.”

“Do you remember when I was talking about my parents? It helped when I talked about them. Made me feel better. Why don’t we do that? You tell me about Michael.” she suggested.

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