Undone, Chapter XIV
My fatal flaw still hovered about me, surrounding me like a palpable fog that refused to dissipate. Apparently, I was capable of loving someone—of falling in love—but my voice, my ability to say the words out loud that made it real, was taken away from me. I could love and be loved, but I could never admit it directly.
Or so it seemed.
I didn’t know how to navigate my relationship with Cristiano anymore. Officially, we were still together but it felt off. Even if I never did anything to disrespect the boundaries of our relationship, I had the feeling that the trust had gone.
He couldn’t trust me to be alone or to be around other men. I couldn’t trust that he didn’t look at me and see someone that was secretly in love with his teammate.
It scared me to think that there might be a possibility that I would lose him.
I thought of satiating him by cutting off all contact with Sergio, but that seemed unfair to both me and Sergio. It felt wrong that as a grown woman, I had to sneak around just to send texts or speak to my friend on the phone. It felt like I was cheating on him with the one person that put things into perspective for me.
I tried keeping my distance from Sergio, but he reached out first; he was concerned because he never saw me in the state that I had been in that night. No one had. It embarrassed me.
I stared at the pastries in the open box in front of me. The familiar pink box brought up memories that felt like they had been created decades ago. My formers bosses were surprised but happy to see me again.
“Are you going to eat one or just stare at them?”
I looked over the rim of the box. “I assume you’re actually pregnant this time.”
“You think so?” The sarcasm in her question was supposed to mask her excitement. It didn’t. She took a pregnancy test while I was here again, and judging by the scream I heard minutes ago, I assumed it was positive.
I grabbed a strawberry-lemon tart—a freebie thrown in during the packing process—and closed the box up. Nagore frowned at the inconvenience of having to open the box back up herself.
“So, when did my house become the headquarters for treachery?”
“Treachery?” I scoffed mid-chew, letting a crumb or two fall from my lips. I swiped them away and swallowed my bite. “Nothing’s happening. I just need a neutral space out of the public eye to speak freely. If I tell him that I’m with you, he doesn’t get that look in his eyes.”
She balanced a colorful tart in the palm of her hand. “He’s an idiot if he thinks you, of all people, would cheat on him after purposely depriving yourself of sex for so long. I mean... you haven’t even thought of touching Sergio, have you?”
“Nagore!”
“Ay!” She lifted her free hand. “I’m sure you wouldn’t. But Sergio would screw anything with a pulse, girlfriend or no girlfriend. I thought you would have been the one to change that considering how he looked at you sometimes. So, knowing that—which is something I’m sure Cristiano knows as well—I understand where he’s coming from. But, again, he’s suspicious of the wrong person.”
I thought of the lines that had been a bit blurred at the beginning of Sergio’s relationship with Pilar, and even at the beginning of my relationship with Cris. I just figured it Sergio being carefree and overly comfortable with me as he had always been.
The thought was ridiculous; I didn’t know Sergio nearly as long as Nagore or Cristiano so I didn’t know his track record, but I couldn’t imagine him as the person Nagore was implying he was. Not the Sergio I knew. A whore as a bachelor, maybe, but while he was in a relationship? No. Sergio as a homewrecker? Definitely not.
“What are you talking about? The only way Sergio ever looked at me was as if he wanted to make a porno in public.”
I took a sip of the wine Nagore poured out for me. She was killing me with the glorified grape juice.
“Is that the only thing that you heard me say?”
I shrugged. “You did say a lot. I’m just trying to understand why you’d bring that up some five minutes before Sergio is supposed to show up for our rendezvous.”
“I was just chatting,” she chuckled. “For once, I have no ulterior motives.”
“I appreciate your transparency.”
She shrugged off my sarcasm and walked off with half her tart still in her hand. I lifted my glass from the countertop and followed behind her. We sat in the front living room continuing to chat for a while. About her now confirmed pregnancy, the mess that was my personal life, and just everything else in general.
The front door opened shortly after the doorbell—an oddly elegant chime—sounded. Listening to his footsteps grow closer made me oddly nervous.
“Ladies,” Sergio greeted. I breathed in and out as he turned toward me after kissing Nagore’s cheek. Was there something in his eyes that narrowed with his gentle smile? “How are you doing Isla?”
He was still worried. After that night, I could understand why.
“You know, just peachy.”
“I’ll leave you two to it,” Nagore chirped.
“You don’t—”
“Thanks,” he said with a gracious upturn of his lips.
I watched helplessly as Nagore got up and walked away. I still stared after her even as Sergio crouched in front of me. When he cleared his throat, I reluctantly looked into his eyes.
What, exactly, was in there? What wasn’t I seeing that apparently everyone else could? It didn’t even matter at this point. At least, it shouldn’t. Perhaps I was just searching, hoping, for something that wasn’t there.
“Sergio.” I could taste the question on the tip of my tongue. I really should have swallowed it.
“What’s up?”
“Would you cheat on Pilar?” He coughed a choking sound. I resisted the urge to gulp down the remainder of my wine. “I mean, have you cheated on anyone before? Like, in general, would you cheat on someone you’re dating?”
He sat back with his left leg bent at the knee. “Jesus, Isla. What’s this about? Are you asking me if I’d cheat on Pilar with you or what?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I blurted.
“I mean—” He waved his hand in the air, conjuring up his words, before resting his arm on top of his knee. “I mean I would but not while you’re still with Cris—”
I swallowed my gasp. “How can you say that so easily?”
“It’s not like I actively sit here and pick from a list of women and decide I’m going to cheat. Sometimes things just happen.”
“Sergio, what the fuck? Do you not respect the whole monogamy aspect of a relationship? You know, the entire point of a relationship? Which means committing yourself to one person?”
His shrug was disturbingly nonchalant. I could still hear Nagore bluntly saying he’d fuck anything with a pulse. “Look, I know I’m not perfect; I never claimed to be perfect. I admit that I used to be out of control, but I’m older and not about all of that now. It’s just, back then, I didn’t know what to do with all the pussy that was being thrown at me. Do you go to a buffet and just eat one plate?”
“I don’t want to answer that question.”
“Then don’t. Morally, I always knew it was wrong, but after that first time, I just realized that I was generally fine with crossing that line. I’m better about it now, or at least I’m trying to be if you count flirting as cheating. But if we’re talking about you—”
“Yeah, I get it. You’d still fuck me if not for Cris.”
Sergio got that look on his face like he wanted to laugh but knew it wasn’t appropriate. I imagined that was the same look he used to make when he was a kid terrorizing people in his hometown.
“Only if we’re speaking hypothetically. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” He started to mime dramatically with his hands as he tried to explain the nonsense that was leaving his mouth. “I’m talking about alternate paths here—I don’t want you to think that I think about cheating with you now or anything. I know that’s what Cristiano is suspicious of but he’s wrong to be.
“You didn’t want a relationship with me, but I wouldn’t have minded if you did want to be mine. We were never anything official but we worked. So, if you hadn’t decided you wanted him, and I still ended up in a relationship, I wouldn’t be able to help myself.”
I peeled at the skin of my lip with my teeth. “I wasn’t expecting this level of honesty.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled under the pressure from his grin. “You know I never shy away from saying what’s on my mind.”
Of course he didn’t. That didn’t mean that I needed the entire truth plainly laid out for me. Sergio’s carefree attitude seemed more of a free-love situation than I had realized. It made sense but I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t expect him to be an angel.
Truth is, I had no room to talk.
“I guess we both have colorful pasts involving a lack of boundaries.”
“What did you get up to?”
Sergio was suddenly enthralled by the skin peeking out from my cropped jeans. He kept my foot on his thigh as he stroked my ankle. It would have felt like an innocent gesture if we were having a different kind of conversation. I pulled my foot free.
“I never seriously dated, obviously, but I did come between a relationship or two.”
His laugh was playfully smug. “So you would have been my mistress.”
“I’ve racked up enough bad karma. My first real boyfriend thinks I’m going to cheat on him. With you who I have to sneak around to communicate with,” I muttered. I looked up with a shake of my head and focused my gaze back down to Sergio’s face. His expression was vaguely uncomfortable. “Are we cheating right now, Sergio?”
“No.” His smile was sad. It was a sympathetic sadness. Pity. “There’s no cheating going on here. You two are just in a fragile place so we’re being careful.”
“It feels like we are,” I murmured.
“Do you want me to leave, then?”
“No.”
We fell silent after my hasty response.
I had trouble looking him in the eye now. He was one of my best friends and he brought me a type of comfort that even Nagore couldn’t bring. But he was Sergio.
Sergio, who I used to have great, intense sex with for an extended period of time. Sergio, who was my boyfriend’s teammate. Sergio, who I would speak to on the phone at late hours of the night. Sergio, who admitted that in some alternate timeline, he would cheat on someone with me.
I understood how Cristiano could feel threatened by our friendship, but I expected him to have more trust in me. I never gave him any reason to mistrust me. I had always been candid with him.
“Why doesn’t he trust me?”
Sergio winced. “That’s something you’re going to have to ask him yourself.”
“Do you know something?” I pressed.
“If I did, it would still be something you’d have to ask him about yourself. Let me ask you something now.”
The bitter taste of cabernet sat in the back of my mouth. My throat and tongue wanted to be washed over with that deep red liquid and I obliged them. Sergio watched me take a long sip and waited until I swallowed.
“What really happened that night that I picked you up from that guy’s place? Hearing you cry like that… I was so worried about you, Isla. You scared me,” he admitted, sounding like saying it out loud finally took a weight off of his chest.
My hand outstretched on its own. My fingers, all five of them suddenly sprouting their own brains, having their own free will, stroked Sergio’s face, his rough stubble scraping against my skin. I couldn’t decide if the touch was meant to comfort him or me.
I sighed, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He angled his head, pressing his cheek closer into my palm. “Were you really going to cheat with that guy?”
“Are you asking if I was actually going to or if I secretly did?”
His eyes widened. “Did you actually—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I pulled my hand and away and folded both of them in my lap.
“You’re the one that implied it. I’m offended you didn’t call me up. You really made the effort to attempt to fuck some stranger instead of coming straight to me.”
“No,” I hummed. “Knowing what I know now, we probably would have ended up actually doing something regrettable.”
“As hard as it would have been, I wouldn’t have let it happen. I was just joking with you.”
I couldn’t share his smile. Sergio made room for himself right beside me on the couch. He patted his shoulder twice and I rested my head on it without protest, curling myself into the space he made for me in the crook of his outstretched arm. When I was comfortable, he let his arm drape over me from behind.
“I was drunk and flirted with the guy the whole time I was out at that bar. Once we got back to his place I did… we did start to kiss and he might have copped a feel or two, but I couldn’t. That was when I called you.”
“How did you even get to that point?”
“Same old argument except he accused me of cheating in some roundabout way and it just left me so hurt and angry that I snapped. I told him that if he wanted me to be that person I just might be.”
He gave my arm a comforting squeeze. “You two really need to work this out.”
“You think I don’t know that? I’m trying but he’s being so difficult. We haven’t exactly fought since then, but he says things and watches me in this way… it makes me want to snap again.”
“Isla…”
“Can we talk about something else please?”
Sergio threw his hands up, happy to oblige. He was understanding and patient, but even the best listeners got tired of hearing about the same unresolved drama from time to time.
We sat together and chatted, skirting around topics that could somehow lead back to Cristiano. His family was doing just fine. His plans for his stud farm were going great. Pilar still had him in the doghouse for running to my aid, but he didn’t mind. Of course he didn’t.
We laughed and debated. Nagore even joined us for a bit before scuttling off again to dote over Ane when she woke up from her nap. I felt relaxed here in their company.
An hour ticked away as we bantered back and forth. I kept my worry—my stress over my relationship that continued to teeter vicariously over the edge—tucked away, squished right against the back of my skull. Sergio didn’t have to know that I’d turned my phone off so I could ignore the reality that we were both sneaking around just to have a normal conversation.
It was ridiculous but it felt necessary. Cristiano and I had been having an almost decent week and I didn’t want it to go sour at the mention of Sergio’s name.
I was thankful Sergio understood. He always seemed to understand even the dodgy things. Even if he didn’t fully get it, he seemed eager to just so he could help me navigate my way through something so unfamiliar. It made me wonder how that different timeline would have looked at this point.
“I’m sure your kennel master is going to recall you soon,” I joked.
Sergio had his head resting against the back of the couch. His eyes were closed, stopping me from trying to find whatever bullshit I stupidly thought I wanted to see in them. What I was probably looking for was some comfort; the comfort that comes from somebody looking at you affectionately rather than with silent accusations.
I just wanted someone to look at me in a way that didn’t suggest they were expecting me to fuck them over. I saw that when I looked into Cristiano’s eyes more often than not these days. I just needed to give him one good reason to justify his paranoia.
“You felt my phone vibrating,” Sergio chuckled. “You already know she’s asking me where I am. She won’t flat-out ask me if I’m with you, though, so until she says what she means I’m not answering.”
“You didn’t tell her you’d be here?”
One brown eye focused on me. “Did you tell Cristiano?”
“I only told him I’d be hanging out at Nagore’s for a while.”
“But you didn’t tell him that you’d be at Nagore’s hanging out with me.” That eye blinked shut without waiting for an answer.
I thought back to when I was first getting to know Sergio. I was naïve to think he would have had some deep desire to be with me in a romantic capacity if I let him get too close. Being dead set against getting close to him was a stupid idea and now I was glad that I gave in. He was the comfort that I needed.
Things were so easy with him. So effortless.
“Sergio?”
“Hm?” His eyes were still closed. He was so still I’d have thought he was sleeping if he didn’t answer me.
“Do you love me?”
The way he exhaled, I knew he’d have rolled his eyes if they were open.
“Why would you ask me a question like that?” he grumbled.
“Can you just answer it?”
Four fingers swiped across his forehead. Back and forth, back and forth, wrinkling and smoothing out his impressively elastic skin as he tried to subdue his agitation. I needed answers. I needed to make sense of what was going through Cristiano’s head; if he gave me the answer Cristiano suspected he would maybe I’d understand.
“I’m sure I love you in the same way that you love me: as a close, reliable friend. Of course, it’s different with you because of how we used to be. If what you’re really asking me is if I’m in love with you, then you know the answer to that, dumbass.”
My laugh was weak. “Can you just say it out loud, please?”
“I can’t tell if you and Cristiano are good for each other or not anymore.” He looked into my eyes, straight through me into my soul. “I love you, but I’m not in love with you. Happy?”
I hummed a response to his lips pressing against my forehead.
We parted ways, our agreement to keep in touch floating in the air with no real concrete plans as to when we’d speak or see each other again.
I kept Nagore company for a little while longer before leaving as well. I was going to head back to my apartment just to afford myself time with my thoughts, but I assured Cris that I wouldn’t be out all day. He wanted to have dinner together and end the night with Junior spread across both of our laps; I’d undoubtedly have to scold Cristiano for nibbling on my ear while Junior was in the room instead of paying attention to the movie.
I felt unsettled walking up to his front door. It felt like I was sneaking back in from a debaucherous night out on the town. I’d almost wished I’d at least smelled ripe with sex so I’d have a reason to feel guilty, to feel like I deserved those looks he gave me.
He was walking out of the kitchen just as I was heading to the bedroom to change my clothes. I was paranoid he’d somehow feel Sergio’s residual energy if he’d hugged me while I was still in these clothes.
“Hey.” His smile was gentle. Genuine, even. My heart thumped a tune when he opened his arms. “How was Nagore’s?” he asked.
“Same old. Just some girl talk and her giving me wine I never asked for as per usual.”
He breathed in as he briefly tightened his hold. “Hm.”
“I’m going to soak in the bath for a bit before dinner.”
He didn’t let go immediately. I was sure he could feel my heart beating as he leaned in to press his lips to my ear.
“You do know that you still smell like him, don’t you?”
See, Sergio didn’t always smell strongly of cologne on a casual day. If he was just meeting me, he never really bothered. If you spent enough time around him, you knew that he had a specific scent that he wore on a normal day of the week; it was a smell that was unique to him which made it easily identifiable.
Today, he wasn’t very heavy-handed with it so I barely noticed it when we were together. I was just used to it now. But if you were searching for some sign of him, you’d notice it right away.
“Cristiano—”
“Go take your bath.”
“Will you please just—”
“‘Please just’ what, Isla?” he taunted. He hid his disgust behind a derisive look, the scornful look you’d give a sibling you hated when you were teasing them. All that he needed to know was that I apparently reek of Sergio. That was enough for him to connect dots that never actually connected.
We migrated to his bedroom. I wanted to talk him down, but he wanted to walk away. There was something about his room that somehow made it so that it was in the perfect position where no one in the adjacent rooms or hallway could hear anything coming from inside once the door was shut. It was useful when we had sex but these days it was only useful for heated discussions.
These heated discussions quickly escalated because I couldn’t help being a hothead. Heated, pointless bickering where we both fed off of each other’s amplified negative energies. Both of us eager to snap without digesting what the other was saying.
“Will you just listen to me for like two seconds?”
He shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t really care about what excuse you’re going to make this time. ‘Oh, he’s my friend,’” he mocked my speech patterns, the rhythm and pitch. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me you were going to be seeing him?”
“Because of this! The way you react when I even mention his name! You act so suspicious of him, of me for no reason!”
“‘No reason?’ You got drunk and convinced yourself you were going to fuck some stranger, Isla! You made this dangerous, impulsive decision and then told Sergio you love him right in front of me right after you told me you couldn’t bring yourself to tell me that you love me as well. Do you know how long it took me to convince myself that you didn’t go straight to him that night?”
“I don’t even remember half of what I said because I was drunk, Cris. I told you nothing happened with that guy because even though I was angry with you for doing exactly what you’re doing right now, I still couldn’t betray you. You act like I don’t care and tell me you’ll be patient but you keep doing the same thing. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here.”
He paced away, his feet dragging angrily, brushing against the grain of the carpet. He left behind darkened grooves in the smooth carpet, winding drag marks that looked like rivers.
“Why can’t you see it from my perspective?” he pleaded.
“I do get it—”
“If you really did, you’d understand why I don’t trust him or appreciate you running off to vent to another man.”
“You know what—” I fished my phone and keys out of my pockets and set them down. I shook my head as I grabbed at the bottom of my shirt and continued, defeated, “Can we just drop it? I’m tired of arguing about the same thing over and over again.”
I waited for a reaction from him that I didn’t get before I pulled my lightweight turtleneck over my head. Cristiano remained silent, but by the way his lips were set, I had the strongest feeling he had something to say. I expected it to hurt.
“Fine.” The word shot out like a bullet, so quickly, with some sort of grim finality that I didn’t notice until it hit me. My brain had an unusually hard time processing a singular word.
I walked away to run that bath and peel off the clothes that apparently smelled of Sergio. Cristiano remained in the doorway, hovering like a phantom gatekeeper, just watching me as I ran my hand through the flowing water to gauge its temperature. Aside from the rise and fall of his chest, his eyes were the only things that moved as he scrutinized every inch of me that he could see, searching for a hint of any temporary blemish as if I’d be stupid enough to let myself be marked up during a non-existent affair.
Though he still watched wordlessly—staring at me like some kind of mute peeping tom with so strong an obsession he began to resent that which he coveted for so long—I continued to undress.
His gaze didn’t make me bashful or anger me. I wanted the topic to be dropped and could tell he still wanted to argue so I had to ignore him.
When the water was at an acceptable level, I climbed into the tub. I reached out to turn the knobs so only hot water would flow and fill up the tub the rest of the way.
“Are you going to stand there and watch me bathe?” I asked over my shoulder. I didn’t even bother looking back at him.
He grunted a response and remained a decoration in the doorway. For someone so angry, he couldn’t look away. Or, he didn’t want to look away, like he was still searching hard for something that would magically manifest itself and prove I was out giving myself to Sergio.
“Can you at least be useful and help me wash my back?”
I held my loofah, already coated generously with my body wash—cool peppermint castile soap that made my skin tingle and feel extra clean—out in the middle of my palm and waited. He stalked over and balanced himself on the edge of the tub, still dead silent. I leaned forward, hugging my legs to my chest, and rested my head on my knees.
A contented hum vibrated in my throat at the feeling of the gentle scrubbing he was giving my back. This was how our arguments usually went: one of us would set the other off, accusations and overly defensive statements flew around, and in the end, the conflicts wouldn’t be resolved. They would just be dropped and ignored until the next pot boiled over. At the end of it all, some sort of act of affection would be displayed in lieu of an apology in order to spackle things over until the next tiff.
I sometimes considered how sublime angry sex might be, but I could never be the one to initiate anything with someone who was accusing me of promiscuity.
“Why can’t you trust me?”
His hand stopped in the center of my back, applying gentle pressure to my spine. “It’s not you that I don’t trust; It’s him”
“Bullshit,” I scoffed. “Not trusting him means you think I'm weak and you don’t trust me. You know—”
My anger was bubbling just under the surface. I had to stop myself from acting impulsively again. If I told him what Sergio admitted to me today without any context, it would have made things worse.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I shook his hand off my shoulder.
I took my loofah back and began scrubbing my legs. He covered the side of my head with his hand and applied pressure, forcing me to lean my head against him. After a moment, I felt his lips atop my head, lingering for a few heartbeats.
“Did Sergio do something to betray you?” I learned so much about Sergio today and I had to know if I was still missing anything.
“No,” Cristiano said into my hair.
“Then why don’t you trust him with me?”
“He has a history. But you make things different; you complicate things and make people deviate from their old habits.”
“You seriously think he’s in love with me? I asked him already and he’s not. You even asked him and got the same answer. Casual sex with no strings attached does exist, you know.”
“Not for that long. Something in you changes.”
I scooted away. “Not in me. Besides, it’s been well over a year.”
He blinked slowly and let his gaze wander down the length of my legs. “Do you love me?”
“Cristiano…”
“Is it really that hard for you to say? Can I at least get a yes or a no?”
“You said you already—”
“Yes or no, Isla. Please.”
I looked up at him and saw that vulnerability in his eyes I thought I saw so long ago. That flash of something no one else in this paradoxically too small, but too big world would ever see. This was Cristiano. That arrogant, macho persona he put on for the world was someone else, someone I didn’t care to know.
It was the glimpse of this man, the one that wasn’t afraid to open his heart and love, that I wanted to get closer to. This was the man that needed me to see that he existed under that protective shell of showmanship that shielded him from his detractors.
It was Cristiano that prized open my heart, that turned my curiosity into infatuation and my infatuation into—
“Yes.”
