"Will you tell me what happened?" Katelyn pestered Arianne with the same question the whole evening. They had just returned from the airport and she had still not stopped crying after she started in the car.
"Nothing, Mamma," Arianne said. She didn't want to tell her mother about Ira's having lost interest on her. She didn't want her mother to change her mindset about him.
"How can it be nothing? You're not crazy that you'll cry without a reason. "
"It seriously is nothing."
Katelyn didn't look convinced at all. "Did Ira say or do anything that hurt you?"
"No," she bit her lip, trying to inhibit more tears from coming out, "he never does."
"Then, what is the matter?"
"Mamma," Arianne rubbed her tears away, "I'm just sad that he left. It felt too soon enough, you know. I wanted him to stay longer."
Katelyn's expressions milded as she watched her daughter. "C'mon," she said, "this is the reason you've been so sad today and yesterday? You were hurting so much. And, Ira! Poor Ira! He was hurting too."
Arianne looked away. She knew he was hurting. Probably more than her. But, what could she do? She had known the separation of four months could draw them apart. But, this way? This soon?
And, why did he lie? Why did he not tell her about Savannah right when it happened? She could have prevented herself from falling in love with him. She could have been stronger.
"We just landed," Ira called Arianne as soon as the plane landed. "Okay," she said, stopping her breath to resist her voice from choking. "Are you crying?" he asked as the flight attendant loudly demonstrated the way of unbuckling the seat belts. "No," she answered, "why would I?"
"Can we talk now?" he asked quietly, expecting her to say yes. "Can you call me some days later?" she asked, instead of replying to his question, "after a week, maybe!" "You still don't want to talk to me?" he asked again, looking out of the small window at the airport ground. "Please," she said. "Okay, Anne, as you wish," he whispered.
Ira had read her letter quite a million times in the plane. It was lovely. Born out of emotions and strong expectations, the words told him what she couldn't express. He wondered whether she was in love with him. She shouldn't be, he told himself as many times as he finished the letter. "Not with me," he kept saying in his mind, "not with me. I don't deserve her. She deserves a man way better than me. Way better!"
He stayed at his parents that night. His apartment was a long way from the airport. All night long, he thought of Arianne. He so wanted to call her up and chat like they did earlier.
He ruined everything. He ruined it all. He wondered whether what they had could ever come back. Well, it had to. And, just like he was responsible for the ruination of everything, he'd be the one making up for it.
Unpacking, he took The Bible out and kept it on his bed. He attended the Sunday service, almost every Sunday, true, but he never got the tine to actually read The Bible. He wondered how it made her become so religious. She said it gave her hope, made her optimistic. Maybe, he should read it too.
Early in the morning on Monday, Ira called up Katelyn. It was 5:30 a.m. in Miami and Katelyn and Granny weren't even awake. Seeing his name flash on her screen, Katelyn jumped up on her bed and attended the call.
"Hello, Ira," she sounded extremely worried.
"Hi, Katelyn," he greeted her, "how's everything going?"
"What do you mean?"
"How are you?"
"I'm fine," she chuckled, "what happened? You called so early to ask this?"
"Early? Oh..."
"Ira, don't tell me you forgot the time difference!"
"I'll keep it in mind from tomorrow. I'm so sorry." He laughed out at himself.
"Why did you call anyway?"
"Just wanted to know if you guys are okay."
"Of course we are. But, Arin isn't." Katelyn got out of bed and came out into the attached balcony of her room.
"She isn't?"
"Ira, son, would you like to tell me what's wrong between you two?"
It was 2:30 a.m. in Seattle and Ira had called because he indeed forgot the time difference and thought it was after 8:00 in Miami. So late at night, he expected Katelyn to hang up soon. But, her question told him she wouldn't. He wondered what to say. He wondered what Arianne had told her.
"Arin told us she was just pissed off because you left soon enough. Is that all? I don't know why but I don't think she told me the whole truth."
"Why not?" he asked.
"C'mon! Like you forgot what happened yesterday! I saw you guys. You were hurting so bad. It couldn't be just because you were leaving the next day. If that was it, it should have made you stick more together. Rather than...you know...be miles away. I was worrying it would be hard to get you two come out of the bedroom."
"Katelyn, believe your daughter. If she has told you something, it must either be true or have some reason for having been told."
"Are you telling me it may not have been the truth?"
"I don't know. I'm not telling you anything. I'm just asking you to trust your daughter. She deserves it, you know."
"Why did you call me? To check on me? Or, to ask me about Arin?"
"How's she?"
Katelyn sighed. She had no idea why Arianne and Ira were behaving so strangely. She definitely didn't want to see her daughter that way. If Ira was hurting her, she wanted him to leave right then. But, she knew, if Ira wasn't the one with her daughter, she'd be more miserable than she already was.
"She's sad. Very sad. Why did you do whatever you did?"
"Katelyn..."
"Ira, I don't know what the matter is. But, please, for Heaven's sake, get it mended soon enough."
"I will. And, please don't tell her I called you. I'll call you tomorrow again, okay?"
"Okay."
Office after a week meant more work than usual. Ira had shifted to his apartment in the morning and wondered if he ought to go meet Savannah. He finished his work soon enough and drove towards her apartment. Surprisingly, she wasn't home.
It had surprised him when she didn't call him on his birthday, even when she knew. It surprised him more that she did not even make an attempt at contacting him when she knew he had returned on Saturday. He drove back home with a bit of rage in his mind. But, he knew he would never be able to express his anger in front of her. He'd be the timid rat he thought he'd never become, the scared one his Dad didn't bring up.
He wanted to call Arianne up. Badly! Very badly! But, there was no way he could call. She had mde him promise. And, no matter how many promises he had broken in his life, he could never break the ones he made to Arianne.
One week!
He drank way too much that night. Dawson wasn't in town. He had gone to Portland to visit his mother. Maybe, if he had been there and had listened to his story, he could have handled his best friend. But, Ira hadn't even told him about Savannah.
Around 1:00 a.m. he started walking from his house for her apartment.  Drunk, drenched in post-midnight rain, he expected to be behaved nicely with by her. He thought she'd let her stay, maybe even let him fuck her. But, the way she slammed her bedroom door on his face, he could not help realizing himself to be unwanted, hated, scorned. When he returned home, drenching again in the heavy downpour, it was after 3:00. He gulped down more wine, more in the hatred of himself for having tolerated the misbehaviour he didn't deserve, than in the despise towards the misbehaving person.
He literally stumbled over the still-unpacked suitcase kept beside his bed and fell on the bed. He groaned in pain as his chest hurt, making it hard for him to breathe. He could feel the asthma kicking in. He breathed hard, clutched at the bed sheet with all his strength, as if the pain could pass out that way.
He struggled to find his inhaler. "Where...the fuck is...it?" Ira tried hard to keep his breath from losing. He could feel his sweat on his forehead and running over his chest as he rummaged in the darkness through his baggage for the small yet utterly necessary medical instrument.
While packing to come back from Miami, he had put it deep inside his bag. As he almost jolted all the ingredients of the bag on the floor, escaping his notice, the inhaler fell out and stayed right beside him as he kept ransacking the bag. His lungs gave in within a few minutes of hard work and, as his limbs fell limp, he reserved himself to the floor. He lay crooked on the floor, tired and completely spent.
He closed his eyes. It felt good. Felt good to just pass away. Pass away into a deep and unbreakable slumber. What if he couldn't find his inhaler? What good could that machine do? Nothing more than the peace that sleeping brings could.
Once you sleep, everything your conscious life brings to you, passes into oblivion. No remorse, no regret, no remembrance of happy times.
Happy times.
"You have asthma? And you smoke?"
"You should take care of yourself. Who else would?"
"Quit smoking. That's all I want, Ira."
Happy times.
He constantly kept falling asleep and waking back again. Like treading back and forth on the same road, between the same two points. Between the lower and upper limits of the integrated time period of his happy time. The constant factor, Arianne, taken out of the integral, as per custom, but, somehow forgotten and ignored along the processing of the math.
"Arianne!", "Arianne!", "Anne!", "Anne!", "Anne!" He constantly kept chanting her name every time a short apnea woke him up from his sopor. He wanted her to be with him, take care of him, hold his hand and tell him everything would be alright. And that, even if it was an ideal statement, she'd stay with him under all circumstances, even when situations wouldn't be ideal.
How painful is separation! His subconscious mind tried telling him what his conscious senses couldn't. Without any mention, any memory of Savannah. Then, why was Savannah more important to him? Why was Arianne not given the place she so deserved? Why?
Ira finally fell asleep completely around 6:00 in the morning. He dreamt of hands, so lovely and so well-fitted into his, passing through his hair, making him sleep peacefully; of lips, so soft, brushing against his forehead and whispering soothing lullaby to help him go to sleep. "Anne!" he called one last time before giving in consummately to fatigue and slumber.
"Hey, Ira," Ira's eyes refused to open up, "buddy, wake up. Dude, Ira, c'mon man, wake up," as Dawson shook him to get up. "Ira," he kept calling, "c'mon, wake up. It's 12 noon. How long will you sleep? What did you do last night? What happened in here? Ira, get up."
Ira's eyes finally opened after a bit more calling. He was shocked to see Dawson in the apartment. "How did you get in?" he asked, his hair tousled up into natural spikes. "Man, your door wasn't even bolted. I had called you in the morning. I came because you weren't picking up," he said, "you should get up now. I got you breakfast. And, for fuck's sake, would you tell me what happened here last night?"
"Holy cow," he said, looking around, his eyes swollen and puffed up because of a lot of factors, not remembering half of the things that happened, "all I remember is I tripped and I needed my inhaler and I was looking for it and I couldn't find it." "Really?" Dawson expressed surprise, "when I came in, it was right beside you. On the floor. I thought you used it." "Lord!" he put his head into his hands and sat for a while, thinking, trying to recollect what else happened.
"Is there something that you're not telling me?" Dawson asked.
"What?"
"I don't know. Well...Arianne's mother called. I told her about you. And, she immediately handed over to Arianne. And, she asked you to call her as soon as you get up."
"She asked me to call her?" he asked, a huge smile washing away all his anxiety and vexation. "Yes," his best friend smiled back, noticing how well just a name could change a man's mood and make his day better.
"And," Dawson continued, handing a Starbucks package to him, "another woman called. Savannah! She asked for you too." "She did?" Ira seemed lost in thoughts again.
"What are you thinking? Call Arianne up. She was worried to death about you."
"I'll call Savannah up first."
He took his phone from the bed and called her up immediately.
"Hello, Savannah."
"Hello, Ira. I called to let you know you left your wallet in my apartment. Come and take it away. "
"Oh, thanks, I will."
"What? You're not interested in taking it back?"
"No, I am. I'm just a bit sick."
"Oh, it's the drink from last night, I guess."
"Yes," he smiled a little.
"Hmm...get well soon. What else can I say? I'm no doctor."
"Of course. Thanks, baby, that would do."
"You're welcome." She hung up immediately, making him heave a long sigh of disappointment.
"Who is Savannah?" Dawson asked, looking acutely confused.
"Savannah Helmsman. I met her at the seminar."
"You called her baby!  What the fuck's going on?"
"We're dating." He said, nervously.
"Dating? I never saw you guys going anywhere together. And...what about Arianne?"
"What about Arianne?"
"I thought you told me you wanted to be with her."
"Yeah, but then I met Savannah."
"I don't understand."
"What's the time?" Ira changed the course of the conversation immediately.
"It's 12 noon."
"God, I gotta go to office," he sprang up from the floor. "Dude, it's 12," his friend threw his hands up in the air, "you already missed half of the day." "I have a meeting at 3:00," he said, getting ready for a bath, "I think I can make it."
Halfway through the shower, he heard his phone ring, outside the bathroom. And, soon, it was attended by Dawson. Just as he was about to fire the shower up again, he heard his friend's voice, "Arianne?"
He turned the shower off and, with his hair and body soaked in the water, he confined himself to the door and listened intently. Eavesdropping! No, he wasn't eavesdropping. The call had arrived at his phone. He had a right to listen to the conversation, he consoled himself off the crime and pressed his ear to the door.
"Yes, he's awake. He went to take a shower," he heard one side of the conversation and tried making out what Arianne could have probably said, "he wants to go to work."
"I told him to take the day off."
"Arianne, wait a second, tell me do you know someone called Savannah?"
"You do?"
"And, you're okay with it?"
"C'mon man, you two make a pair. You're a lovely couple. I've...listen to me...I've seen my friend. He'd been miserable before you arrived. You've made him happy. I've seen him happy after he met you."
"Why are you letting this go?"
"Arianne, you know you're too attached to him to let go now. Are you crying? Girl, are you crying?"
"Of course you know him, and you understand him. But, I know Ira better. I don't know what he's up to with this Savannah, but I'm telling you, he won't be happy without you. He needs you. And, believe me, I know, I know that he loves you."
"Stop it, Dawson," Arianne almost screamed at him over the phone, "please. Thanks for your belief and your faith. But, it's not gonna take me and him anywhere. He has found someone who may be able to fulfill his dreams. And, I'm okay. I'm fine as long as he's happy."
"What if he's not happy?" she got asked again.
"He will be. Pray so that he gets the happiness he so deserves. Ask him to call me. I'll take just three minutes of his schedule."
Arianne sat down on the floor of her balcony and cried - more accurately, howled. And, she had no idea what she was crying for? The news of Ira being unwell and the realization that she wasn't there to take care of him, or the fact that, maybe even if she were there, Ira might have liked taken care of by someone else?
All her life, she could refrain herself from falling in love with anyone. There were so many she could have fallen for, but she didn't. And, when she finally did, what happened to her, she could never want happen to someone else. She cried like a child, in the agony of seeing her love go into failure.
She had cried harder in the morning, when her mother suddenly handed her the phone, saying Ira was ill. In a flash of a second, she had imagined all weird stuff that could have probably happened to him. What if he had had the same kind of cardiac arrest like her father? Hadn't he told her he stopped smoking? She had to wash those thoughts away immediately.
How could it be? He was so young.
Finally, when she heard from Dawson that it was probably a bad hangover, she breathed relief. And, having known he was awake and ready to get going again relieved her more than she could admit.
Ever since she had taken the promise from Ira of not calling her for a week, she had been way beyond miserable. She checked her phone every single second, laid her ear more to the imaginary sound of the ringtone than on her mother's or Granny's voices calling her. She wanted him to break his promise, wanted him to call her and tell her it was impossible for him to stay without talking to her.
After the conversation with Dawson, she headed for the dress shop again. She waited all day for Ira to call. But, he didn't. Not that day, and not even that whole week.
The grief was a burden to carry.
She tried keeping herself busy, keeping her head off the gloom. She concentrated on the boutique work like it was her dream career. She sometimes even brought some stitching home. And, when she got tired of it, she studied her subjects.  Half of the night, she stayed awake, studying Biology, Chemistry, reading the English dramas in her syllabus, reading through her Psychology books like she had a test right the next morning.
The rest of her day went as it always did. She did say her prayers in the morning and went for jogging. Just that jogging had now turned into running and she usually returned home panting and sweating. After spending the rest of the morning at the boutique, and when her friends called her for a lunch, she refused and stayed in the boutique to finish off with her work and after the evening, she strolled alone along the beach before heading home. Twice before the Sunday service, she visited the church, but left without meeting Father Lewis. She knew she couldn't lie to him.
"Are you ever going to tell me what happened?" Vanessa charged at her friend one hot afternoon.
"What would happen?" she replied, stitching a button to a shirt.
"I don't know. Maybe that's why I'm asking you to talk to me. Aunt Kate said you're sad cause Ira left too soon. But, c'mon, you knew he was going to leave. That cannot be the reason."
"If you're smart enough to figure it out till here, Vanessa, I'm sure you can figure the rest out. Which...even I don't know...what the rest is."
"Arin, we can see that you're not okay. Tell me."
"I'm fine. I don't know why everyone is so obsessed with me. Please, it feels awkward."
This way, she had ignored all questions and pestering for a week. But, on Sunday, she could not no more.
"Arianne," Father Lewis called her right after finishing with the service, "come in. I need to talk to you." "Father," she still tried ignoring, "I need to go home. I have to go to the boutique afterwards." "No," he charged at her, "no more excuses. Come in right now."
"Father, please."
"You've never defied me before. That too in front of Lord. Arianne, come in." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Arianne,  don't you believe me? Don't you believe the Lord?"
She nodded, looking down, "I do."
"Come, we'll talk."
It was a very emotional confession. Father Lewis had had many such emotional confessions and counseling before, but maybe because this one concerned Arianne, one whom he considered his own child, he could not help crying at the end.
"The first time I fell in love with a person," she said, rubbing off the marks her tears had left on her cheeks, "and...and...he didn't. I don't know what to think of that, Father. Maybe I should convince myself by saying that this is what happens with everyone. Or, that maybe I've done something so treacherous that this is a justified punishment for me. To not be loved by the one person I so badly fell in love with."
"Arianne," Father Lewis had no words that he knew could make her stop crying.
"I don't know how to move on from that small period of happiness he gave me. I just don't. Which is why I'm trying to keep myself busy with work and my studies. But, he keeps coming back, Father. The memories are getting the best of me. Tell me how do I put him aside."
"You don't have to," the old man said, taking her trembling hands in his, "give him some time. Give yourself some time. Maybe, you should talk to him."
"About what?"
"Tell him what you expect of him."
"Tell him I love him?"
"Maybe."
"What good would that do? He probably loves Savannah Helmsman. Why would he care?"
"Well, why did he care to come down to Miami just to meet you? Maybe, that's the reason he'd care. Sometimes, young minds run for paths not made for them. But, they do come back to what they need. And, you know...you know Ira. You know he's got a mind and a heart much young to his age. Unlike you. Can't you give him the time he needs?"
Arianne sat there, quiet, still, motionless, emotionless, just existing like an unicellular creature would have. There, but not quite there.
She wondered when Ira would call. What would she talk to him about when he would? Would she even be able to talk to him after that transit? Or, should she make him feel like she was still pissed off? Was she really mad? At him? Could she be?
"Father," she finally said, "promise me one thing."
"Anything."
"You won't tell Mamma or anyone about it. Not even Vanessa or David. Even if they come asking you about what I said."
"Okay, my child, I won't."
"And, even if you meet Ira again, or get to talk to him, you wouldn't tell him about this. Or, ask him anything at all."
"Okay. But, why don't you want to tell your mother about it? Or anyone at all? Not even your best friends?"
"Father, I don't want anyone to think ill of him. He's a great person, and everyone knows him that way. I don't want anyone thinking he's not good. You know he is, right?"
Father Lewis looked at her for a while as her tight-shut eyes triumphantly expelled more of the lacrimal gland secretion. And, in that moment, he knew that she'd never - never in her entire life - would be able to fall for someone else.
True, that Ira had been with Savannah all week. Taking her out for shopping or movie, on lunches or dinners, going to mid-week parties with her and then, fulfilling her and his own sexual needs. False, that he hadn't thought of Arianne at all.
He constantly thought of her. When he paid Savannah's long shopping bill, he remembered what a money-saver Arianne was. "I really don't think I need that, Ira. Put it back." She had refused even the dress he could see she was dying to wear when he offered to get her that, right when she saw how much it would cost him. Downtown Miami shops had shown him a side of her that he hadn't seen before.
When he took Savannah for a dinner date, he missed the one with her, at Hawaiian Plaza, wondering if she'd ever go with him again. When he went to the party Savannah's co-model threw at a well-known DJ house, he remembered how scared such crowded pubs made Arianne. And, how well he had promised himself to take care of her and protect her and make her feel safe at such places only because he'd always be with her. Now, he wondered whether he'd ever be able to convince her again to visit such a discotheque with him.
When he lay on the bed, exhausted from the sex, with Savannah sleeping beside him, he missed Arianne immensely. Not just the passionate love-making, but their behavior towards each other afterwards.
He remembered how shy and quiet she was after their first time at the ranch. He remembered the young audacity with which she had consented to let him carry her under the shower. He knew he'd never forget those sad eyes and that nervous voice that asked him to start afresh after summer. He missed the kiss at the airport.
And, above all, he missed the amazing love-making in her room in Miami. Their conversation every time they took a bit of a rest before starting again to please each other - he missed every single word she spoke, every dream she told him of, every poem he recited to her, how beautiful she looked, how erotic her body felt pressed against his. He often took his phone out and stare at her number or her photos.
He wanted to call. Her. Not her mother. He knew she had asked him to. But, he wouldn't until a week was gone. He had to keep a promise from breaking. And, in that process, he broke an innocent heart a million times.
But, he had called Katelyn every morning to check how she was. And, every morning came like a new surprise to him. He heard how she spent hours working and studying and barely ate or slept or talked to anyone.
Why was she doing that? For what credible reason? Oh, Ira, she loved you. More than you or she could ever explain!
Finally when he called her on Sunday, in the evening, Arianne inhibited him from calling her for many more days. "Maybe, after August," she said, coldly, "okay?" And, she had hung up immediately, lest he heard her cry.
She wanted to ask him so many questions. She wanted him to ask her so many things. She wanted to know how he was with Savannah. And, she wanted him to tell her he was unhappy. Arianne even imagined him calling her to say that Savannah Helmsman was not the one he needed and that without herself, he would never find that one person.
That night, Ira called his mother up. "Oh, my son called me," Jess had shown in every way her elation in talking to her son after almost a week.
"Mom, I just need a bit of help."
"Of course. Anything you want, my man!"
"What does a guy need to do to convince a woman into not being mad at him anymore?"
"Fulfill one of those of her dreams that she thought could never be fulfilled. Make her feel special, important. Gift her. Even if i.t's a small gift,  or, maybe even handmade. Anything!  If she is a real woman and not a bitch, she'd love it."