Chapter 5: Half Empty Chalice

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With my back against the door, the four walls of the bathroom seemed to close in around me, swamping me. My hand kneaded the tender muscles where the cell phone met my gut and the pain slowly subsided. I listened to the regret in his voice through the two-inch wooden door that separated us.

"Babe, are you okay?" His voice was low but close enough that I could have sworn his lips caressed the wood. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—my temper. I know, it's no excuse."

"Leave me alone," I groaned, bowing my head in heartbreak and shame, trying to gain the courage to go to the sink and look at the person I had now become.

"Rhea, baby," he pleaded. "I'm sorry. I love you so much. I hate that I hurt you."

"Go away." I shook my head at the unrecognizable face in the mirror; eyes smudged with mascara and eyeliner, eyelashes drooped on one lid, the symmetry of my beauty wiped away with just one blow. I peeled off the set of false lashes and dropped them in the sink. They lay on the slope like a pair of moths that flew too close to the flame.

When had I turned into such a foolish woman? Why did I choose to believe Nolan's words even though his actions spoke louder? Maybe what held me in place was the convenience of our partnership, the control he seemed to possess, the fear of change, or the ease and comfort of the familiar. Whatever it was ... "I can't do this anymore."

"Rhea, don't say that." He sighed and the door creaked. I imagined him leaning against the doorjamb, a shoulder anchoring his bodyweight. "I need you. You know I need you. You need me too. We need each other. I can't think of living life without you. I'd go crazy. I'd die. Please, open the door and let me talk to you. I want to see you—"

I turned on the facet and allowed him to ramble in the background of the swoosh of running water, and the steady stream escaping down the drain. The water reminded me of what it could do for all my negative emotions and the things I deemed exhausting, unworthy, a waste—wash them all away.

I glared at my reflection in the mirror. In a whisper, I told myself, "You're stronger than this. You're smarter than this. You deserve better than this. What are you doing? Why do you keep believing his lies?" I had to look away. I couldn't stand to see the worried, unsure, and unconvinced girl looking back at me.

And yet I understood.

Nolan and I found each other when we were up and coming in our respective professions, helping each other boost our careers. We gave each other purpose when our families chose not to support our business decisions. My parents despised social media, but I assumed it had been because it baffled them being an untraditional career. His parents thought he could do better as a lawyer or doctor and didn't approve of him managing a then nineteen-year-old online influencer.

And because of that, we understood each other, especially in our times of need. It became habitual and alongside the mind-blowing sex, we've become experts at listening, motivating, bonding, and eventually capturing each other's hearts.

I'd often joke that four years ago Fate had led me to the café where I had offered the dashing well-dressed man a coffee and added my UpTube handle on the coffee cup in black marker. The conversation it started led us to our present successes.

I remembered his sexy grin and deep cheek dimples when he said, "You know, back in the day we'd exchange phone numbers when we wanted to pursue a relationship."

"Is that your way of asking for my number?" I licked my lips before placing the straw of my iced coffee between them for a sip. The way he spoke, using big elaborate words, pulled me in. Alongside the ton of books I consumed, his way of speaking may have influenced my own vocabulary over time.

"Hmm." He sat forward, not a winkle on his clothes or skin despite him being at least ten years older. "I like your courage. Not afraid to go after what you want. I appreciate your go get 'em attitude. That's my kind of people."

I winked. "I would love to be your kind of people."

I turned the faucet lever until the water stopped and watched the pair of lashes disappear down the drain.

"Rhea? I'm such an asshole. I'm sorry." His voice made its way through the wood that separated us, soothing as his touch had once been, but dripping with sorrow that struck me as sincere. He meant every word out of his mouth. "You mean too much to me. Don't I show you that? Haven't I proved that to you? I can't believe I let my frustrations get the best of me. Just like you, I'm stressed too, and struggle to keep it together for you. For us. For your career. That's my job, right? Protect?"

I shook my head at my reflection. Confused at what I wanted and what I should do. On one hand, I wanted what we used to have. The laughter, the passion, the understanding. But on the other hand, I wanted it to be over. I didn't want to walk on eggshells or think about what I say and how I said it.

I wanted freedom.

Yet I knew, I felt it in my bones that my body would push every fiber of my being open that door and walk out of the claustrophobia of the bathroom if my mind wanted to or not. That habit had been formed over four years, and now I fought the urge to unlock the door and walk into open arms and sweet kisses.

Gripping the rim of the sink and focusing on the empty drain, I struggled to stay put. Finally, I peered at myself in the mirror, taking in the puffy red eyes that lured in so many, the glistening wetness that collected beneath my nostrils, and the utter mess I had become.

I quickly opened the faucet to scoop up a handful of the cold water before closing it again. And although my face craved the cool refreshing splash, I tossed the liquid onto the mirror and watched as it distorted my reflection. Another one of my strange rituals, much like the finger taps, and avoidance of tight, dark spaces.

Now I couldn't make out those almond shaped light brown eyes or the moisture that streamed from those eyes and down my cheeks no matter how hard I tried. I didn't want to see her. I didn't want to investigate her pitiful face and see her shame as she contemplated giving Nolan another chance.

But before the water completely cleared from the glass, large, scared eyes looked back at me, and the deep red hair of my reflection rose to float around the misshapen head. In seconds I realized it wasn't my reflection I was looking at but the ghost with my face.

I took a step back, staring at the distorted stream of bright red liquid as it ran down the side of her face. I froze in fear, anticipating her next move.

Her open palms repeatedly hit the glass, but her fluidlike movements prevented the sound of impact as well as her screams, but the visual of the ghostly figure and her gaped mouth overpowered my senses.

I screamed, quickly running out of the bathroom and straight into Nolan's arms.

"What's wrong, babe?" He glanced in the bathroom when I looked over my shoulder at the normal looking mirror. "What happened, love?"

"I saw her." My voice trembled as well as my lips. "I saw that woman again."

"Hey, now," his voice sent a calm through me and so did his caresses on my back and shoulders. "You're alright now. It's okay. I've got you."

I buried my face in his chest, pulling him even closer by the fabric of his shirt. "Something's happening and I don't like it." I held back a sob. "I want to leave."

"Of course. Of course." He held me snug, and an immediate sense of safety surrounded me. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

I nodded against his chest, thankful that he was near but knowing I would regret it later. Did holding on to anger make sense at a time like this? I'd make sure to teach him a lesson later, but for now staying on his good side seemed like the better option, especially if he agreed on getting out of this place.

My mind flooded with warnings about what a stupid thing I've done running back into his arms but was quickly shelved by the eerie memory of the haunted face in the mirror.

My heartbeat caused the tips of my fingers to tremble as I moved strands of hair from my face. "I thought I wanted this. I thought I wanted to be here and prepare for fashion week, but after seeing that woman, all I want to do is leave. I Just want to get out of here."

"Sshh." He caressed my shoulders. "Come now. Let me fetch you a drink." He led me to the bar where I sat at the counter while he rummaged through the fridge. My eyes continued to cut to the open bathroom door almost expecting her to come floating out the mirror like Bloody Mary.

The clink of wine bottle to glass caught my attention and I turned my sights to the noise. "Nolan, not now."

He continued pouring. "Let me apologize properly." The red liquid swirled in the cup, nearly mesmerizing me, or distracting me from the fear of what was to come. But then he paused, stopped mid-pour, and looked up from the wineglass. "You know, Rhea... I'd die if you ever leave me. That's how much I love you. And you don't want to see me dead, do you?" He shook his head. "Of course, you don't." With the bottle in one hand, he used the other to slide the beverage to me, a half empty chalice. "Now drink up."

~~~

Is Rhea losing her mind like she believe she is?

What do you think is happening to her?


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