And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
A Midnight Summer's Dream William Shakespeare
She was up before the nimble fingertips of Dawn touched the horizon; instantly spilling streams of golden yellow and fiery red into the coal colored sky. The dreary shadows of night slithered away, Dawn continuing to brighten everything and anything she touched. She was curled up, on a lawn chair, on the hotel's terrance. It should have been an awakening moment of truth and beauty but all she felt was gloom, frustration and confusion.
The kitchen had just begun to prepare the breakfast, the clattering of pots and the shouts of orders echoing into the scarcely populated main hall. Many people were still trapped in their dreams but slowly they would awake and the day would begin all over again like spring.
She chose to let the day pass her by, as she pensively beheld the city below her. A cup of coffee, now luke warm, was held by both hands. She was still dressed in her pajama's; a pair of blue sweatpants and a tank top, a bathrobe concealed this.
They concealed the scars, too. She had been wondering about that last night and early this morning, for once in a long time. Would it start all over again? Would she slip back into woe's womb like before, when Lance had left?
Would the old insecurities and faults resurface again and tear her down, like they had before? With those unwanted questions had come the memories, attached like a tag to a piece of luggage. The memories of the nights crying herself to a restless sleep, the days of wondering what could have been and what would have been, all the emotions that came with the torment and pain of a friendship lost.
That cycle of darkness and loneliness that had taken her nearly two and a half years to finally overcome. She gingerly pulled on the sleeve of her robe, revealing the faded but visible closed gashes and slashes.
They had said she was finally better. But no one had expected her to run into him again. No one had expected him to play with her emotions like a yo-yo. Would this game of hearts cause her to relapse?
She sipped the coffee and watched the movement below. There was only one solution: only time would tell.
The noise of someone clearing his/her throat startled her, the sleeve immediately fell back into place.
She turned around and forced a somewhat approachable smile.
"Hey, Vanessa," he greeted. He pulled up a chair next to her and sat. It made her want to run.
"Hello," she responded, facing the way she sat originally.
"Why are you up so early?" he wondered, his green eyes quizzically studying her. Vanessa shrugged. She could tell him the real answer but she didn't feel it was necessary.
"I couldn't sleep," she simply answered. It wasn't a lie but it wasn't really the truth. He looked away from her and into oblivion.
"Oh......... So, how was your date with Justin?" he asked, forcing the question out. He clearly was burning to know the answer but he loathed to ask. Vanessa smiled.
"It was...nice." She knew the vague answer would drive him nuts, for "nice" could have a million meanings behind it.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him bit his lip. It was a nasty habit he did whenever he was nervous or in this case, trying to hold back pent up frustration.
"Nice? From the way Justin talked about it, it was heaven on earth," Lance scoffed. Vanessa laughed.
"Maybe it was."
"Nessa, no offense, but right now, Justin isn't the most committing guy to have as a boyfriend," Lance advised. Vanessa's eyes narrowed. She was fed up with his bullshit; acting like a jealous ex-boyfriend whenever she mentioned the idea of going on a date with a guy and then shunning the thought of him falling for her.
"And who are you to give advice?" she snapped, oozing with malice. He frowned. He could be so clueless sometimes.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded. Vanessa snorted.
"Let's just say I'd take it with a grain of salt if an engaged guy, who kissed his best friend, came up and stated telling me about the elements of the perfect relationship," she sneered while taking a sip of coffee.
This struck a nerve with Lance, his eyes blazing with anger.
"You're misunderstanding what I was trying to say! I'm just reminding you; Justin just came out of a what-two and a half year relationship? I don't think that right now, he's looking for the women he's going to spend eternity with," Lance harshly defended.
Vanessa turned to him, her veins pumped with indignation, clutching the coffee cup so tightly, her knuckles began to turn ghostly white.
"For the past weeks, Lance, I've tried to hold my tongue around you. I've tried to act angelic and tell myself it's his life and he can destroy it anyway he wants. But to hell with it. You always want the truth and the truth is, I'm fucking sick and tired of you and your bullshit! I'm fed up with your little mind games; using your emotions towards me like a faucet, hot one minute, cold the next! We're supposed to be best friends but at this state, I'd say we were strangers. Friends don't treat each other like you're treating me, Lance! Do you realize that? Was that enough of the truth for you to handle?" she cried, outraged.
Vanessa could feel the scorn flowing through her body like a rejuvenating elixir; an illusion that she could punch a hole clear through a wall was envisioned. The anger on Lance's face fell away, just as it always did when he came to the cognition of what Vanessa was feeling because what she was feeling usually made him feel like the scum of the earth.
He reached out to her, to grab her hand, but Vanessa flinched.
"Don't touch me," she hissed, her icy eyes flickering to his hands, then to his surprised face.
"Vanessa, I'm sorry-" She gave a bitter laugh, that seemed to absorb every feeling of warmth Lance had, like a powerful vacuum.
"You always say you're sorry but I doubt you mean it. Go back to Bridget, Lance. Go back to being her little puppy and leave me the hell alone," Vanessa seethed.
Lance gritted down on his teeth; there was no way of coming to an agreement with her.
"Maybe I will, since you're acting like such a bitch," he mumbled under his breath. He hadn't intended for her to hear the insult but she did. And like a queen rising to greet her royal subjects, Vanessa arose, coffee cup still in hand and stiffly walked in front of Lance.
He gazed up at her, wondering what in the world she was going to do. Vanessa slowly gave a sly smile, like a wicked witch just coming to the awareness on how to annihilate her enemy.
"Vanessa..?"
His question was stopped short as Vanessa gave a short laugh, then without hesitation, poured the half full cup of coffee on Lance's pants.
*~*~*~*~*
"You did what!?" Gillian asked on the confinement of the tour bus a few hours later. Vanessa smirked, paying more attention to the TV rather than the conversation or Gillian's horrified face.
"Yeah. After my little speech, I poured coffee all over him and then left. It was quite funny, actually," she replied, dully.
Gillian laughed and shook her head.
"Are you sure that was the right, well approach to the situation? I mean, I've never heard of pouring coffee all over a guy as a signal of 'hey, I'm in love with you'", Gillian wisely pointed out. Vanessa shrugged.
"I've sent all the signals under the sun and he still doesn't seem to notice them. I think I'm going to give up on Lance..maybe even love entirely. I'll become one of those crazy bag ladies on the side of New York City and have fifty-five, stray cats," Vanessa replied with amusement.
"Stop being so negative! Don't give up on love just because you think it's given up on you. If Romeo gave up on love after Rosaline, he wouldn't have fallen in love with Juliet! If Jaime in A Walk To Remember had shunned Landon then she wouldn't have gotten married to him," Gillian forcefully replied.
"And look how it ended for them," Vanessa pointed out. Gillian laughed.
"Good point. But you're missing the main idea; if people had decided to close their eyes, they wouldn't see love that was right in front of them all along. If they had decided that love was a waste of time, then they wouldn't have discovered happiness, no matter how short it was. You can't let one heart break rule your life. You have to move on, get over it and tell yourself you're stronger than that. In the end, you'll thank me," Gillian suggested.
Vanessa thought for a moment, taking in the advise.
"Oh, how the hell do I know? You could be right. But it is true that my signals are a waste; Lance could never love someone like me. He only likes California Beach Barbies, big, blue eyes, bleached blond hair, plastic for the body parts that weren't natural...and I'm more like...Velma from Scooby-Do!" Vanessa complained.
Gillian laughed.
"Velma from Scooby-Do, what does that have to do with anything?" she questioned.
"Velma was the brainy one, the smart one. The one everyone went to if they were in trouble, so that's all everyone saw her as. She never got the guy. Daphne did," Vanessa logically explained.
Gillian shook her head.
"Ok...how you can relate 80's cartoon characters to your love life is beyond me."
Vanessa gave a proud grin.
"That's what we mutants with no love life are blessed with!"
Gillian sighed.
"Stop it, you're not a mutant and you HAVE a love life...it's just not functioning properly....hey listen, why don't you give up a night of brooding and go clubbing with me and the guys, tonight, after the show," Gillian brightly offered.
"Guys, as in plural? As in Lance and probably his Barbie doll? No, no. I'll pass," Vanessa answered.
"C'mon, it'll be fun. Besides, Lance isn't going. It's Bridget's birthday and he's driving up to San Diego to go see her," Gillian informed.
Vanessa stopped to think. Clubbing with the rest of the guys did sound like fun...as long as Ken and Barbie didn't decide to rain on the parade, then how could she resist such an offer? Then she remembered, Justin. How could she face Justin after the kiss last night? She knew he was expecting some sort of reaction to it..... After a few minutes, she nodded.
"Alright...I guess I'll go. I don't think I'll stay the whole time, though," she forewarned. Gillian beamed.
"Good! I promise, this won't be the trip to Death Row like you keep picturing it," she vowed. Vanessa smiled.
"If you say so," she teased.
"You'll be having fun in no time. By the end of the night, you'll say "Lance who?" Gillian joked. Vanessa laughed.
"I'm looking forward to it already."
Too bad Gillian didn't see Vanessa's crossed fingers behind her back.
*~*~*~*
The show had been a success, as usual, which gave more reason to go out and party. True to Gillian's promise, Vanessa did have fun although it wasn't a tremendous amount. Dizziness overpowering her, Vanessa stumbled out of the elevator and up the hall, to her room.
Wobbling and giggling under her breath, she finally collapsed on the door like a colt who was just learning how to use its legs. Everyone had gotten a little tipsy, or at least she thought they did.
Either that or they sure had a good way of hiding it. Vanessa, of course, was the most noticeable and after a small argument, Gillian had decided it was best if Vanessa call it a night. It wasn't entirely Vanessa's fault; after having one drink, she'd felt the weight of the world, that had been on her shoulders the past few weeks, slowly ease away. So, she had another, discovering that with each drink, the weight began to disappear, little by little. And it hadn't been frowned upon, for everyone was having a drink. But as drink after drink burned down her throat, a tiny voice in the back of Vanessa's mind began to wonder if she was having a little too much.
But it didn't matter, because what was done was done. So Justin, being the guy he was, called Vanessa a cab and offered to go with her to the hotel. But Vanessa had angrily brushed him off, convincing him she'd be fine. She'd slammed the door and mumbled for the driver to take off before he could get another word in. And so, he was forced to watch the taxi speed off into the inky darkness.
The world seemed to be spinning, the colors bleeding into one another like running paint and the contents of her stomach wanted to travel back upward. It wasn't a very humorous event but Vanessa giggled anyway.
She managed to locate her key and slid it through the slot without complications. With a heave, the door swung open and Vanessa toppled in, tripping over her feet. She giggled, again.
When had everything become so damn funny? She closed the door.
She found the light switch and flicked it on. Her tongue suddenly began to weigh three thousand tons; it was thick and heavy and motionless. Her head began to pound, the nausea following along with it.
It was starting to become less funny than it had before. She needed aspirin, or something. Vanessa slipped off her shoes and dragged herself into the bathroom. She scavenged the medicine cabinet and finally found a bottle of Tylenol.
As she swallowed two of the red and yellow tablets, her gaze traveled to the door on her right side, the door to Lance and Justin's room. As though in a trance, her feet carried her into their room, her eyes darting around like a wounded animal looking at a gathering crowd of humans.
With a small smile, she flopped down on Lance's bed. She knew it had to be his bed, because it was fairly neat, unlike the one next to it, unmade and the covers sheets spilling out. She knew Lance liked to be neat.
She inhaled the scent of him, her face pressed against the pillow. It smelled of cinnamon, his cologne and Lever 2000 soap. She gave a soft laugh, despite the crystal tear rolling down her flushed cheek. Once again, it was a sad reminder that she would always remain his friend and that Bridget had forever captured his heart.
She turned her head to his nightstand and smiled. In a frame, was an eight by eight sized picture of herself and Lance, the summer of `96...the summer he left.
They both were beaming and Lance had his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulder.
They both grinned, Vanessa thought, because they had no idea on the turmoil that lay ahead.
She knew she had to leave for the thought of Lance finding her, like this, was probably the worst humiliation she could think of. But her body felt like lead. Sleep beckoned her and soon, her eyelids began to droop.
Face still pressed into his pillow, Vanessa fell into a dreamless sleep.
*~*~*~*~*
A few hours later, sober but still feeling foul, Vanessa awoke. Her blurry vision landed on the digital clock present on Lance's nightstand, which read twelve fifteen. It had been nine-thirty when she had parted from the club.
Grumbling all the while, she slowly sat upright, trying to piece together why she had the feeling she was in the wrong place. Her eyes swept the scene; the clothes in the closet, the shoes on the floor and the picture on the nightstand.
As thought hit by a hammer, she suddenly remembered..for some insane reason, she had fallen asleep in Lance's room!
She had to get out, as soon as possible! Vanessa leapt from the bed when suddenly, she stood, frozen in place. To her horror, the door was opening! She knew that she should have gotten the hell out of there by now but an invisible force wouldn't allow her to move.
So like a deer caught in headlights, she stood, frozen in place. The door swung open, the lights flipped on and Vanessa found herself face to face with Lance.
He laughed, his expression of bewilderment and confusion.
"May I ask what the hell you're doing in my room?" he demanded with a smirk, his voice void of anger. Vanessa bit her lip.
"Uh..I was..looking for something. I thought I lost something and I was just wondering if it was in here," she answered, fumbling for words. Vanessa wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole, for she feared she would die of embarrassment or suddenly say something stupid.
"All right then?" he asked, as if to say: "I know you're lying but let's just forget about it because I'm too tired to get an explanation."
Neither one moved.
"Um..how was the trip to see Bar-I mean Bridget?" Vanessa asked, changing the subject. His face crumbled to distress. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
"Let's just say it wasn't as I expected it to go," Lance vaguely replied. Vanessa frowned and stepped closer.
"What happened?" she replied, trying not to be forceful. He shrugged.
"That's the thing, I don't know. She told me she wasn't entirely sure about us getting married and like the idiot I am, I told her it was ok and she could have all the time she needed," he replied with a shrug.
Vanessa forced on a sympathetic smile but inside began doing back hand springs and dancing like a maniac. She stepped closer to him.
"I think you did the right thing. I mean, you don't want to throw away a matter of years in a few minutes, right?" she questioned.
He thought for a moment then slowly nodded.
"Yeah, I guess you're right. But sometimes, I doubt myself. I wonder..."
He stopped.
"Wonder what?" Vanessa urged.
He sighed.
"I wonder if I'm making the right choice. I wonder if Bridget is the girl I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with," he sincerely confessed. Vanessa's eyes widened as large as two saucers.
Her breath caught in her throat, her earlier anger towards him diminishing into smoke. Did that comment mean what she thought it meant? If Lance doubted his relationship with Bridget, then surely the girl in competition with his fiance must be...
"Does that mean what I think it means?" she questioned, her voice swelling with hope.
Vanessa's heart began to pound in her chest, as though its rhythm was to a fast paced, war drum. The noise was roaring in her eyes like the ocean's waves during a hurricane; she wonder if he could hear it too? Lance was silent for a minute, overwhelmed with hesitation. The beat of her heart was increasing now, a roaring in her ears. His eyes bore into hers, his expression completely serious.
Vanessa felt her whole world suddenly pause and her heart cease to beat at his whispered reply.
"If you think it means I'm falling in love with you, then yeah, I guess you could say it does."
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