I am not blind and yet I do not see. I am not dumb and yet I cannot believe. There is something so pure about her and the way she loves. No restraints. No boundaries. I need only to look into her dark eyes to be reassured. She lives for me, that much is obvious. It has never been a concern of mine. I only question… can she live with me?

In my mind, there are two of her. The division is a necessity. There is the Alice I love. The one who cannot possibly be capable of such pain the other reaps on me bountifully. She looks upon me, dotes on me with the warmest of affections. She shares my dreams, feeds off my joy. We are happy. And I will not hesitate to admit, she is the one for me.

The other, she is a mystery, an enigma, a stranger. I do not know her. I cannot love her. I do believe I hate her for her deception. For her poorly hidden malice. For her proclivities. I despise her for everything she forces me to see and everything she makes me believe. The division is a necessity, for the lack of it drives me to the brink of insanity. How is one suppose to live, hating the one she loves?

Some days, I wish to be just another uninterested third party. I want to be her friend again for then maybe she will not lie to me. I want to hear the truth, all of it, but I need to hear it as someone else. Not me. Not Dana. When did it start? When did it end? Did it ever truly end? If she comes clean, I do not want to be myself. I do not wish to be the injured victim in all this. A casualty of love. That is not me.

~~

The night is warm. The heat permeates the still air. A thin layer of sweat and grim coats my sun tanned skin. I return from my daily jog to find the house dark, shrouded in silence. Not a sound, not even the ever present shrill of the cricket’s chirp. The soundlessness disturbs me.

I make my way up the stairs of our house, mine and Alice’s. My eyes linger fondly on familiar pieces of comfortable furniture. Ours. A smile tugs unconsciously at my lips. We do not live on the beach. It is a constant regret of mine. At the time, in the haste of our coming together, such arrangements was impossible to make under such short notice. I do not worry though. We have forever to fulfill our dreams.

As I make my way to the bedroom, I am alerted to their presence in the living area, caught in the edges of my peripheral vision. I stop in the doorway, unnoticed. They are just standing motionlessly at the center of the room. The distance between them, significant, a few feet apart. I am astounded, not by this unusual exchange but by the intimacy that exists between them. Something so tangible, I cannot help wondering how I could have missed it all along.

And I stare at this scene before me, turning away when it suddenly becomes too difficult to watch. Wearily, I lift a hand, rapping my knuckles gently against the solid oak that made up the doorframe. The moment is broken as their eyes simultaneously fly to me. I grin innocently at them, disarming whatever suspicions they might have held regarding the length of my unexpected presence and how very much I saw.

I feign ignorance, not acknowledging Shane’s edginess or Alice’s guilty, downcast eyes, and they let me. I pretend nothing is wrong, that my world has not just been completely overturned, and they trust me. They do not bother correcting my assumptions. They lie to me. I know, and I say nothing.

~~

When Shane leaves, I join Alice in our room. I drop down behind her, on the edge of our bed. She is seated at the vanity table, brushing those silky blonde tresses. My somber gaze meets hers in the reflection of the large ornate mirror, a present from me.

~

“Okay… no, no looking,” I laugh at her annoyed grumbling, “Just wait one second.”

Her slender fingers nudge grudgingly at the blindfold I placed over her eyes for this surprise. I playfully swat them away from their attempt to remove the offending material. Another laugh escapes me at the sight of her lower lip puckering out just slightly in a small pout. She is amazing. I move closer to capture that adorable mouth in a kiss.

For a moment, she forgets herself, my gift, and focuses singularly on the movement of our colliding lips. Her arms wind around my waist, effortlessly pulling me closer. This moment, and so many more similar to it, has become familiar. It has become routine, and I contemplate how I ever lived without it.

She whimpers softly when I pull away. Taking her hands, I lead her through the doorway, guiding her into position. Double checking once again to make sure that everything is in place, I finally allow my hands to tackle the knot which held the scarf I grabbed on impulse to use as a blindfold in place.

Loosening the material and letting it flutter slowly to the ground, I look on as her eyes light up like a young child, having finally unwrapped her present. She approaches the magnificent mirror in quiet awe, running her fingertips lightly over the ridges and bumps of the intricate engravings. She turns to me wordlessly, her mouth gaping in shocked pleasure.

“For you are too gorgeous for words and your vanity should only be encouraged,” I inform her in a teasing tone.

~

The mood is so different right now as I pierce her with my knowing eyes, daring her to tell me the truth or feed me a lie. Say anything. I want to hear it. I am ready I think, but I cannot but be appreciative of the reprieve when she looks away. I run a rough hand through my sweat drenched hair and head towards the bathroom for a shower.

I am not ready for this confrontation. Even with the knowledge I hold, I doubt I shall ever be ready to hear it from her. I am berating myself as the hot spray washes away the dirt from my skin because I know I should not be grateful that she continues to deceive me.

~~

This scene is not so unlike the last except the distance has diminished. Only a step separates them, but neither attempts to rectify the situation. We have all been invited to the premier of the new exhibit at Bette’s museum. Abstract. Contemporary artists. Alice is standing before a large canvas which from my vantage point at the other end of the display room, appears only to be a swirl of bright colors. Reds, browns, purples… autumn colors. Shane is close behind her, admiring the painting… perhaps admiring her.

No words are passed amongst them, but the real conversation has not gone amiss on my part. It is through their bodies, their stance, their positioning that they communicate. A language that requires neither proper wording nor rehearsed execution. The rawest form of conferring. No misunderstandings because what they are trying to express is not hindered by words or grammar. It is felt and deciphered to perfection.

What seems like hours later, they part, heading off in opposite directions. It is only when they have both become occupied by others desiring their respective attentions that I take their place in front of the painting. Glancing down, the single word on the adjacent placard above the artist’s name strikes me to the core. Desire. Was that what draws them to one another, I wonder? My eyes search the room for the two recently clouding my every thought, wanting so badly to know yet fearing what exactly I will discover.

~~

On my birthday, she brings me breakfast in bed. Pancakes with maple syrup, they are slightly burnt but so characteristically Alice that I find them endearing. She is not a great cook but for special occasions, she tries. They are a tad too salty but to me, they taste heavenly. They are not without their flaws… like Alice. I love them because they remind me of her. And I love her because I cannot keep from loving her.

She watches me dig in with obvious glee. I smile at her around a mouthful. My actions cease briefly as I study the shadowy depths of her eyes, so filled with love for me. Almost bursting. I catch myself disregarding every sign of her indiscretions. I tell myself that I have been too presumptuous. That I have misjudged her. This dazzling being before me is incapable of anything but kindness.

A drop of syrup lands upon the area of bare flesh peaking from the fringe of space between my pajama top and bottom. With an impish smirk, she bends down to follow the path the bead of liquid sugar took, lapping it up. With one hand, she lifts my shirt aside. Her tongue tickles me with it exploratory motion.

Impatiently, I wait until finally her mouth has traveled up the length of my body and has reached mine. Our lips meet, her tongue gently caressing. I taste the sugary syrup mixed with the incredible, tantalizing flavor that was distinctively Alice. All doubts fade as I successfully convince myself with lies.

~~

I do not want to be here tonight. Milk is loud, stifling, and overcrowded. I want to be at home, in bed, cuddled next to her. I want that protective veil to be let down between us and reality, sealing Alice and I off in a world of our own making. I want her to hold me and calm my overactive mind. I want to sink into a bed of soft duvet covers while she places a tiny kiss on that spot behind my ear that makes my toes tingle. I do not, however, want this.

I am being subjected, against my will, to a show that I find unbearable to watch and even more unbearable to turn away from. Tucked away in a corner of the lively club, I am draped across a beige, overstuffed couch. Tina is speaking to me. I think she notices my inattentiveness. My eyes are staring past her, engrossed by the vision the two of them, leaning against the bar. I compel myself to think nothing of it. To see nothing more than two friends, waiting for their orders, side by side.

Their hands, clenching the edge of the counter, are barely touching, but the contact is too much for me. Shane casually lifts a pinky. It curls around Alice’s. I examine the strained expression that has marred her pretty features and realize the effort it takes to keep herself from glancing down is wearing her down. She does not give in, and I am proud of this fact. My girl. She is fighting for us.

My scrutiny does not leave them for some time. I frown as I notice that though she is not reacting to Shane’s tender gesture, her hand does not move away. How hopelessly glue to the countertop her manicured digits seem, it disappoints me. As the seconds drag on, a new kind of fury, one that I have never experienced before, begins to boil inside me.

It is so foreign, this dark, roaring fire. My vision is clouded by violent imagery, my thoughts overtaken by angry raving. This sensation is unfamiliar to me. Perhaps another division has occurred and now there are now two of me. I want to brush off the negativity, but this scenario might not be so far fetched, I think.

Alice lifts a glass in my direction as they return with the beverages. I grasp the drink offered to me tightly. Its freezing coldness seeps into me, but I suppress the shiver shooting up my spine. She lowers herself into the seat next to me and leans into my side. I can feel the heat of her inviting flesh through the thin fabric of her blouse. For once, it has no effect on me. I sent a cold glare at Shane as she settles down in a chair across from us. The irony of it all hits me, and I bite back a bitter bark of laughter when I notice that her eyes are fixed upon the blonde next to me. I see the softness in her gaze, the love in her intention.

In a room of beautiful, available women, she only has eyes for Alice. A division has happened here also. She is no longer the Shane I knew, and we are not so very different after all. It would not be a far stretch to imagine that I am the one looking on longingly, unable to touch… unable to take and have. There must have been a moment in time when that very option has been at end of a path with Alice at the fork in the road. I wonder how I got so lucky… I wonder if I am cursed.

~~

In the middle of the night, my eyes snap open of their own accord. I have been dreaming but of what, I cannot recall. There is a growing unease blooming within me. It makes me want to shed my own skin, presently a size too small. I roll over to see her sleeping peacefully on her side of the bed. The sight irks me. With a rough hand, I jostle her out of her resting slumber.

My mouth covers hers before she is even given the chance to be surprised. Her astonished yelp silenced before it even had the chance to completely form. I persist, demanding a response from her. Dotting a string of kisses along her collarbone as my hand creeps underneath her shirt, grabbing and molding her smooth flesh none too gently.

She hesitates, sensing my mood. She is unsure, at a loss. It is never like this. Not with me. Never with me.

~

Our first time, she is almost reluctant to proceed. When I am finally bare beneath her, she shifts back allowing her eyes to drift over every inch of me. The expression on her face can only be described as reverent. Her hungry eyes devour me, and I am led to believe that she could spend all of eternity as she is. Just watching me.

With each passing second, I find myself becoming more nervous, more self-conscious. She watches me, and I doubt I shall ever see what she sees. She is unaware of any imperfection. In fact, what she sees is only what she wants to see. She wants me to be an angel. A masterpiece she can worship. She wants so many things. A cynic will say that she is disillusioned. I allow that cynic to be me.

“Do you ever fear when you look at me, that one day, you will see things that you wish not to see?” I ask her in a tentative whisper.

A soft smile touches her sweet face as she finally closes the distance between us, pressing a kiss to my pliant, waiting lips. I push away all thoughts of further conversation, responding greedily. Her hand moves to cradle my chin and at first, I am unaware of her almost inaudible speech.

“Impossible… you are perfect to me,” she murmurs against my skin.

My reply is lost within a mesh of hot, melding skin and lingering kisses. ‘I know,’ I want to say, ‘that is what worries me.’

~

Reluctantly, she begins to respond. The wariness in her actions angers me and fills my head with unreasonable thoughts. Thoughts like, is she thinking about me or… Does this stroke, here on her hip, evoke memories? This patch of skin, has she been licked here before? Did she like it? Fast, hard and furious, is that what she prefers? And as such thoughts relentlessly assault me, my movements become punishing and cruel.

She puts up with my harsh fumbling for a few beats before the first small cry of pain escapes her bruised lips. After a few awkward attempts at coupling, I finally desist and settle for pinning her securely beneath me. Role reversal. The atmosphere could not differ more in contrast. Her entire body tenses when my cutting remarks reach her ears.

“Are you enjoying this, Al? Is this different enough for you?”

Her forehead creases in confusion, but I am not fooled. She is good, I must admit. The perfect little liar. A wonderful actress. Someone hand her an award. Lying there with my incensed eyes baring down on her, I can almost believe that she has no idea what I speak of. No clue as to what I accuse her of. She peers up at me with so much innocence as she shakes her head ever so slightly, the performance so nicely given, that I almost dismiss the matter entirely.

Her lower lip trembles even, as she finally answers with questions of her own, “What? Where is this coming from, Dana?” I balk at her gall and her ability to pull off this role of incredulous girlfriend so effortlessly. When I start to move away, she tightens her hold on me. “What’s wrong? Dana, you know I want you, exactly as you are. You are perfect to me.”

And I wrench myself out of her grasp at those words. How dare she use those words on me? Instantly that memory, that treasured, cherished memory of our first night together, is being shredded before my eyes. Torn apart by her dirtied words. She is trying to manipulate me. No more.

“STOP LYING TO ME!” I scream at her. My outburst frightens us both into a state of stillness.

When the red haze that enveloped me eventually begins to recede, I look around us. Our bed. Our room. Our house. Our world. Of which, hiding in the very centre of it all is a hideous lie. Her’s. All tainted. It no longer offers any happiness to me. I turn back to face her – my heart, my soul, my life, and all I want to do is get as far away from her as possible. Far enough to not be able to see this mess we have made of things.

~~

Misery cannot be drowned. It is an unquenchable fire. No matter how many tears are shed, it stubbornly refuses to be doused. I do believe, however, that every human being has his or her threshold. Beyond this limit, we will feel no more pain, no more mind altering anguish. Slumped over a barstool at Milk, I allow the alcohol coursing through my system to speed me to that most desired of destinations.

The numbness is hardly satisfactory. To be able to think about everything with dampened feelings scares me. To be able to picture Alice now without experiencing the full-blown effect of her betray of us, to not care… I know I still love her, because I am wrecked. She has wrecked me entirely, the way one can only be wrecked by someone they felt passionately about.

Yet this… this liquor induced indifference and all that it seems to imply, even if only temperately. I need to care. I cannot live in a world where I could love her any less than I do because I do not know how. I need to feel. Feeling is living, and she has always made me feel more than anyone else.

Movement to my right, I glance up. Somewhere in the midst of my deliberations, she has come for me. She looks worse than I feel. Clothes appear to have been absent mindedly thrown on. Her sleep mussed hair sticking out at random angles. Her pretty face is blotchy, as if she has been crying. Bags beneath her eyes are emphasized by her pale skin tone. She holds out her hand to me, and I do not resist the invitation. I am not ready to let go. Will I ever be?

Right now, I am exhausted. Tonight is not the night for decision making. I allow her to lead me, back home. Ours. The title once held so much promise.

~~

The hard choices we make in life, they are just the culmination of an array of events. We make them because we see the need for change. We see, off in the distance, where the tracks end. For me, the first night I walked in on the two of them and sensed the change, that is the caboose that powers this unstoppable, speeding train. Everything afterwards is just coal, which heats the steam, propelling the three of us forward heedlessly.

The route we take is hilly. There are countless ups and downs. The last incline, the biggest, is one we are fast approaching. I cannot but think that if we do not make the climb, we will fall back to status quo. Nothing will have to change. All stays the same. And while part of me clings to the past like a lifeline, a different part of me is anticipatory. On the other side of this obstacle are brand new things. Better things because anything has to be better than this – this seemingly endless cycle of lies, pretending, and pain.

So it is, as we make our final ascend, I close my eyes, not daring to look ahead or back. When my eyes open again, I take in my surroundings. Tina’s birthday. We are, all of us, gathering around the dining room table as she sits before a single cupcake, alit by candle flame. Her eyelids flutter shut and she makes a wish as each occupant of the room looks on wistfully. We all have dreams.

The scene is set. Somewhere, an invisible director shouts “action”. Alice and Shane break away from the group. It is like an unstoppable train wreck, what comes subsequently. I follow their actions from my place at the table. They come to a stop outside the doors. Even shrouded in the dimness of the hallway, I can understand perfectly what is happening. Shane’s mouth moves as she speaks, and I know what she says even though the sounds of the conversation do not carry so far as to reach my ears.

“What did you wish for?” she must be asking.

And Alice turns away, in the end, she responds with a statement that is more of a plea, “For this to end. I cannot do this any longer. It is too hard.”

Undeterred, Shane lays a light hand over Alice’s, and when the initial shock of the touch has registered, her fingertips begin to trail a crooked path up that delicate, slender arm. Alice tenses, her entire body coiled so tightly that something is sure to snap soon.

“I wished for you,” Shane continues smoothly, before reaching out and drawing the blonde further into the shadows she stood in and brushing their lips together. Barely a kiss but they both let out a sigh of mutual relief. This act alone effectively pushes us over that very last peak. And a choice is finally made in me.

~~

I have a recollection from when I was six of my mother, having loved horses since she was a child, overseeing a stable-hand while the young man hefts me into the saddle of a friendly, old mare. At such tender age, I was paralyzed with fear of the towering beast. The animal, sensing my uneasy, knew not how to behave. So use to being ridden by a rider with confidence that knew just what to do, it shifted nervously before trotting forward a few steps.

The sudden burst of movement elicited a cry of terror from my small frame. I was bawling uncontrollably by the time I was tucked safely within the soothing embrace of my mother. The whole event traumatized me endlessly afterwards and for years I found myself unable to handle even being in the vicinity of these powerful, four-legged creatures.

And though my mother did her very best to calm the mostly hysterical young girl, none of her encouraging words or praises did a thing to stop my crying. What jolted me into a sudden cease, occasionally interrupted with erratic hiccuping, was the familiar maternal exasperation that sounded loud and clear as she exclaimed in utter frustration after all other attempts to quiet me has failed, “Oh Dana! If you would only get over your fears for one minute, you might finally be able to comprehend just how much you are capable of.”

Capable. I suppose that none of us really know just how much we are capable of until extenuating circumstances force us to test the very limits of our selves. That last night, the night all the cards were finally revealed, laid flat for our perusal on the table, I do not think any of us knew what we were capable of.

I know I did not expect the part of me that could inflict so much agony on those that I love. It comes as a shock, and I wonder about this new side of myself. I wonder where she came from, where she has been hiding all these years. Alice and Shane use to tease me, they use to say that I did not have a mean bone in my body. Can they still make that statement truthfully?

This version of me was everything I am not. Hard, cold, cruel, selfish, vengeful, she is so different from the girl Alice fell in love with. I consider the possibility of her being someone Alice can still love, but stop when I realize that this girl would never want anything to do Alice’s type of affection. She would never settle for anything less than complete faithfulness. She would never have stayed as long as I have in this poor excuse for a relationship. She is capable of so much more than me.

She is capable of inviting an entirely unsuspecting Shane over with a devious scheme in mind. She is capable of presenting the unspeakable proposal to one of her best friends… a proposal of revenge. This new Dana can stand there in the living room of the house she shared with the love of her life without any remorse, and outline the most hurtful of acts to an undecided brunette.

She can watch with satisfaction as the other is slowly persuaded to recognize a common anger they share, a shared need to take this anger out of the one who started it all.

~

“I know… about you and Alice.”

A flicker of surprise in those green pools… a ripple that finally broke the seamless watery surface.

“How?”

A low, self-depreciating laugh.

“I know her. All too well.”

Silence.

“Does she know?”

“No.”

More silence.

“I’m sorry, Dana.”

A grimace.

“Don’t give me apologies Shane. They mean nothing. Besides, I don’t blame you. She’s… I know better than anyone how easy it is to fall completely for her.” Sigh. “Still, I always thought that you would be the one who never allows herself to become love’s fool.”

“She’s different. I’ve never met anyone like her. I -”

Interrupting, “Yeah, there’s no one like her! No one could abuse the feelings of those she claims to love with such unpracticed ease. She’s used us Shane. She leaves us both hanging because she can never have us both, and she can’t settle for just one.”

Inquistive gaze.

“You hate her for this.”

“Don’t you?”

Averts eyes.

“Yes…” a sad whisper.

~

We stand, a few feet apart, undressing. My fixed on her, on every patch of skin she slowly bares. Her eyes on the polished floor boards. There is so much reluctance, infinite hesitancy. But when she removes the last piece of her attire, she faces me and I see the purposeful set of her jaw, the cool shuttered eyes. Firm in her decisiveness, she moves nearer.

She touches me. Everything that comes after is detached and efficient. It is hard, fast, meaningless, and over before long. She makes sure that she has performed her function and leaves me without another word. The door of the en suite bath swings shut behind her.

I take a few gulps of air in attempt to smooth out my ragged breathing. It is done. I cannot help but notice the finality of it all.

~~

I am waiting patiently for her upon her arrival. She smiles and greets me with a soft peck, looking confused when I avoid her questing lips. Eventually, her eyes take in my appearance. My lack of makeup, my mussed hair, that unquestionable presence of afterglow, and she understands. I can tell she is hurt by the realization. I see her struggling with the array of questions. The why, who, and how.

Unmoved, I do not answer her. I do not make excuses nor do I throw my infidelity in her face. There is just an endless wordless silence. She brushes pass me and makes her way up the stairs to our bedroom. Halfway up, she is halted abruptly as Shane appears on the landing above us. The anguish that contorts her features is so great that I believe it must take up permanent residence, forever marring those expressive eyes, flawless skin, and pouty lips.

When the first tear falls, Shane descends the remaining steps and exits out the front door. I am left with the wreckage. The debris strewn in every which direction. I have no desire to clean up the mess, however, so I climb the stairs to my room to put the final nail in the coffin lid.

Some time later, I am packed and find Alice exactly where I left her. She has sunk to her knees on the steps, inaudible sobs wracking through her body. I peer at her, willing myself to feel nothing more than contempt. As I move around her huddling form, her words stop me.

“Dana… don’t leave me?”

Spinning around, I turn on her suddenly with all the fury that has collected these past weeks. I look at her, on the ground, sniffling and pathetic. The part of me that hurts for her is roughly shoved aside, and all I want to do is make this hurt for her as much as she has hurt me. All I want to do is to scream at her until I am hoarse and everything has been said.

“What’s wrong Alice?” I manage to bite out through gritted teeth. “Betrayal hurts, doesn’t it? GOOD.”

The words are cathartic, and I take my leave with absolutely no regrets. Here is a new me and in her, I have found my strength.

~~

There is a dream one night, months later. It presents me with the closure I so desperately seek. In my dream, I can see the two of them, sitting on the edge of a cliff. The sight no longer enrages me. Their eyes are fixated on the red hues streaked across the skies, residues left behind by the setting sun. Neither speaks until Alice swivels slightly to the side, peeking inconspicuously at Shane from underneath a veil of soft blonde lashes.

“Is this it? My happy ending?” she asks the brunette, curious.

A pause… Shane chuckles lightly, shaking her head in amusement, “Is that what you believe?”

And dream Alice, my Alice – though I have relinquished all claims – looks affronted for moment. Like she could not believe. With slackened jaw, she gapes silently. The incomprehension is clearly there. She does not know. She is clueless as to how to proceed. We have loved her forever, and she cannot but take it for granted.

“What?” she blurts out in complete and utter surprise then injects defensively, “I’m here right now, am I not?”

Shane just smiles complacently and watches the last remaining light drain from nature’s deep blue canvas. Finally, she makes a query of her own, “For how long?” For how long indeed. How long will it take for Alice to destroy her, the same way she destroyed me?

All the “I loves yous” and “I hate yous” in the world cannot sum up everything I feel for this woman. I will be eternally grateful that, in the end, I was able to break free. Break free in the only manner I can, physically. For mind, heart, and soul are forever bound to her. Hopefully not forever condemned to misery. This is the reason for my dread, the object of my fear. The future is something none of us can see.