Seeking Solace: Angelina's Restoration (Love in the Dark Book 2) Page 5

  A black cloud followed me. I was a walking voodoo curse.

  I was so conflicted with my emotions because as much as I knew I needed to stay away from him, I still wanted him. The more I knew we had no business spending any amount of time together, the more I wanted to get lost in his eyes. The way he got under my skin gnawed at me. I wanted to kiss him and kick him in the balls at the same time, it was driving me crazy. He was arrogant, bossy, and confident in his place in the world. I was humble, insecure, and completely lost.

  My mind went from life with Giano to my desires for Professor Patrick.

  He was my instructor. This crossed lines even thinking about it. I knew what happened when thoughts ran out of control, when lines were crossed.

  I ran harder.

  Before I realized it, the time had passed and I was once again going to be late if I didn’t hurry. And being late was not an option. Skipping a shower and changing, I headed straight to class a sweaty mess. I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. I was here for an education.

  Maybe if he saw me like this, his eyes wouldn’t search mine as if he wanted to undress my mind as much as I wanted him to undress my body.

  See crazy thoughts. I knew first hand what it was to see more than what was there … that’s what ruined everything between me and Giano. I was seeing what I wanted in the Professor’s stare rather than what was really there.

  He watched me rush in and take my seat.

  A small smirk formed on his lips before he shut it down.

  “Ms. Diamante, a word after class,” he said with a nod.

  I looked at the clock, I was on time with not a minute to spare, but I was on time dammit. I gave a nod wanting this class to be over.

  Today was obviously not going to be my day. Though as I thought about it, I couldn’t pinpoint any single day or moment since Giano’s death where I felt like I had a good day.

  Class finished and I begrudgingly made my way to him. I didn’t like confrontation. I didn’t like being in trouble. I wanted to simply blend in and not be noticed. In fact, all I really wanted in life was to go to school to learn techniques to battle my grief and to be left alone.

  All alone.

  That word for being so short held so much weight. It was true though, I was better off alone. Everything I touched was tainted. I was scarred. I would forever carry the sins of my past.

  “Look Professor, I wasn’t late. So whatever you have to say, shove it.”

  The words tumbled out and I was mortified.

  I didn’t mean to be so abrasive. I didn’t mean to say them at all. I just wanted to be left alone. I wanted to leave his class, go home, and shut out the world. I wanted to hide away and make myself forget the way he looked at me. The way he awakened my soul.

  He laughed and my ears felt like they had gone to Heaven. He was charismatic teaching, talking, moving, but laughing, he was amazing. He had this soft pitch that only drew my ears in to listen further.

  “Well, this is a first, Ms. Diamante. I have never been told to ‘shove it’ by a student.” His eyes danced with humor, but he was otherwise unamused by me. “I was going to tell you that some of the doctorate students in the psychology department will be sitting in on my four pm class. If you want to attend, you can meet some of them and see how their educational path has gone. They need to identify social impacts through the ages and a few of them have decided history refreshers will help them.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “Why me?”

  He shook his head like he was in a fog. I couldn’t explain it, but when I was around him I was in a fog of my own too so I understood the need to shake it off.

  “It’s not mandatory, just an opportunity, Ms. Diamante.”

  I stood there absolutely stunned. Why would he want to give me any sort of opportunity? What was his angle here? It was my turn to shake off the fog. “I’m an ass. Sorry, I guess I’m just skeptical of people.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “No motive here, just giving you a chance.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll be here.”

  He stood and pressed his hand to the small of my back. Electricity shot through me. “I look forward to seeing you again,” he winked.

  The butterflies went crazy in my stomach.

  Don’t see something that isn’t there, I reminded myself. He was being kind, friendly. While I might be attracted to him, he was my professor. Even if he was only eight years older than me, he was still older. I needed to stop my infatuation with the silver fox’s. Maybe that had to do with my childhood. I had serious “Daddy Issues” that again brought me full circle to needing help. Which was why I was in school—help myself and learn to help others.

  The rest of my day was a blur before returning to attend his afternoon class. I sat in the corner beside a psychology student named Tom. He was nice, open about his studies, and very helpful. Talking to him, I was more determined to continue down this path because the mind and spirit were important.

  Maybe in time, I could heal not only myself but learn skills to help other children who experienced the things I had.

  After the lecture, I left with a small nod to Professor Patrick. Part of me wanted to approach him and offer my true gratitude with a thank you, but I decided not to. Being so close to him, electricity ran through me and I seemed to lose all my senses.

  On my way home, I stopped at a small sushi restaurant. Since it wasn’t busy and going home alone was bothering me, I went inside and sat down.

  I placed my order and watched as the sushi was made and then brought to me. I was finishing my third roll when the air shifted around me.

  I stiffened and looked up to find Professor Patrick walking in.

  My instincts said get up and leave. But something inside me screamed to stay. It would look strange for me to leave mid-meal so I remained in place with a small wave to acknowledge him.

  In a few moments, he was setting a plate down in front of me.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  I waved my hand. “Go right ahead.”

  He sat and I struggled to focus on my food.

  “Do I make you nervous Angelina?”

  I swallowed hard.

  “You don’t have to study psychology to read people.”

  “I don’t know how to take you.”

  He leaned back in the chair. “I imagine not.”

  “When you’re around,” I stopped myself from finishing.

  “Everything feels different,” he finished my thought.

  I nodded.

  “Angelina, I am attracted to you. I’m a man and you are a beautiful woman. As your professor, I won’t touch you though.”

  I didn’t know how to take that statement. Part of me found safety in it and the other side of me felt let down.

  “Then why join me?”

  He smirked, “because I can’t resist you. Every look you make there is this fire in your eyes. I want to get to know you.”

  Get to know me? I wasn’t in a place for anyone to get to know me because I was still getting to know myself.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I went home after dinner twisted in knots. It was comforting to find out I wasn’t imaging the feelings this time. Too bad, he was my instructor so this was not going to happen. Neither of us needed this added distraction. He had a job to do and I had a course to complete.

  I couldn’t sleep.

  I couldn’t relax.

  So I found myself in the kitchen with the memories invading again. Standing at the stove warming the milk, I remembered … and it hurt.

  “My Angel,” the gravelly voice sounded from behind me in the kitchen, “shouldn’t you be in bed?”

  “I needed a drink,” I whispered as the butterflies returned to my belly. Nerves hit me as I feared his reaction to my being out of place.

  “Nervous?” he asked as he passed me, making his way to the refrigerator.

  “Some, yes,” I admitted, needing to find comfort.

  I watched as h
e poured a cup of milk into a saucepan. Over the stove, he heated it as he added a bit of honey and a splash of vanilla. Interesting, I thought.

  No one had ever cared if I slept before or not. Then it hit me like a wrecking ball. I didn’t know the last time I had gotten up in the middle of the night for anything.

  Yes, I sometimes had needed to use the restroom, but I would hold it out of fear. I would need a drink and deny myself for the same reason. I had been afraid, if my father heard me wake up, he would want to do things to me. Yet, somehow, in the crazy whirlwind of time with my stranger, I had found it safe to emerge from my room at night.

  This was monumental for my young mind to absorb. I felt comfortable enough to leave my room in the middle of the night. Was this what it was to leave Fallyn Valencia behind? Was this what it would be to let the memories and darkness leave me?

  I gripped the counter as the emotions erupted inside. For the first time in my short life, I felt the freedom to come down to the kitchen for a cup of milk in order to return to my slumber. However, in doing so, someone—my stranger—actually cared enough to get up with me and make me a special bedtime drink.

  No one had ever offered me such importance in their life to care if I was able to sleep. My stranger did, though. His actions showed me he cared. No one ever took notice of me before.

  For the first time since Papa died, someone actually cared about me.

  Silently, I watched in awe as he prepared my drink. Sitting at the kitchen island with me, he sipped a mug full, as did I. The warm milk with honey and vanilla calmed the butterflies fluttering like a storm in my belly. Like the liquid, a warmth covered me building from the inside out giving me the peace to relax. Once we finished, he rinsed everything in the sink then guided me to my room.

  “Better, my Angel?” he asked as he tucked me in.

  Feeling alone as I lay in the queen-sized canopy bed that engulfed me and not wanting to be alone, I whispered, “Please stay.”

  The milk warmed as I fought back the tears, and I added the honey with a splash of vanilla. Taking a sip, I let the memories of Giano comfort me.

  He was my safe place to fall.

  I wanted to crawl inside myself and never emerge again.

  What was life going to be like without him? How could I really go on? Why couldn’t life cut me a break? Why did he have to leave me?

  I was drowning in the pain again. The will to go on was blurred in the sadness. Pushing on as a way to respect Giano wasn’t enough today. I wanted it all to end. I looked to the counter. I had a knife set. A fancy one from a specialty kitchen store. Alanzo made sure my apartment was filled with everything I could need and more.

  Moving to it, I picked up the large chef’s knife. The stainless steel handle was heavy in my hand. The blade flashed a bit under the kitchen light.

  I held it up. I brought it down stopping just before the blade reached the skin of my wrist.

  I lifted it again.

  My wrist was unmarked, unscarred, and soft, smooth, ready for a quick slice.

  Tears began to fall from my face.

  I was losing this battle. The dark place inside me was winning. All the reasons to go on had disappeared and in their place all I had left was despair. No one would miss me, the future I had didn’t truly matter if I couldn’t help myself how could I help someone else. I wanted to stop missing him. I wanted to stop feeling so damaged.

  I wanted it to stop.

  Life.

  Living.

  Breathing.

  Feeling.

  Being.

  I wanted it done.

  I managed to get by telling myself in school I would learn how to cope. Some days, like today, I had to tell myself to fake it ‘til I made it. Oh how I wish I was in the very bed wrapped up in him. But life didn’t allow me that. No life kept kicking me while I was down. Life kept taking from me over and over and I didn’t have anything left to give.

  I looked at the clock on the stove. It was two in the morning. I needed to rest, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw Shawn’s hazel eyes studying mine.

  Shawn was this strong man much like Giano. He was commanding, confident, and carefree. He had a beautiful future.

  I was tainted, damaged, stained in blood, and I was the worst thing that could ever happen to a man like him.

  He was better off without me too.

  I lifted the knife higher. I brought the blade down …

  My phone rang, I jumped dropping the knife with a clank to my countertop as I looked to the screen.

  “Uncle Zozo,” I greeted warmly getting my breathing under control. He didn’t need to be burdened with me. I didn’t need him to take on my problems too. After all they were my own making. Guilt washed over me.

  If I succeeded tonight, he would have to clean up my death. He had cleaned up enough in his life. I couldn’t do that to him after he had been there for me in my grief. I shook my head trying to wash out the negative thoughts still dancing in my mind.

  “How you doin’, Angel?” he asked softly.

  “Can’t sleep, but I’m assuming you watched the video or you wouldn’t have called.”

  He laughed into the phone not denying it. Did he realize what he stopped me from doing? Did he somehow know I was literally seconds away from slicing into my own skin? Closing my eyes, I could imagine the burn of my skin separating and the warmth of my blood trickling out. The red color against my alabaster complexion I could see it as if it was real. Except he called and he saved me from myself.

  Alanzo called every few days to check on me. Along with his calls, I had a security system with cameras. While the cameras weren’t inside my home, just placed to view the windows and the perimeter, he could see when I had lights on. What would he say if he knew what I was about to do? Would he give up on me? Would he walk away forever? Why can’t anyone stay? I couldn’t lose Uncle Zozo. I couldn’t do this to myself anymore because I couldn’t risk losing him too.

  “Woke up, checked on you, saw the lights on and figured I’d make sure you’re alright.” He sounded like he had just woken up.

  “I’m gettin’ by, Uncle Zozo. Have you had your coffee yet?”

  He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “No, I have this habit of waking up and looking on my phone to check your place before I get to the coffee pot.”

  “Did you set the timer?” I asked because for Christmas I bought him a coffee maker with a preset timer. He could set everything up the night before with the time he wanted the pot to be ready and each day as long as he did this, he would have a pot of hot java waiting.

  He sighed. “Yes, Angel. You look out for your Uncle Zozo. I also fill the travel mug when I leave so my coffee stays warm all day.”

  It was my turn to give a half-hearted laugh. “Well, Giano always said you were a pill when you didn’t have your coffee. Don’t want the world dealin’ with all that.”

  “You know he would want you to move on,” Alanzo sighed. “To be happy and not be up at two am.”

  His words were a punch to the gut. I know he meant well, but it wasn’t simple. Picking up my life, starting over, while drowning in the loss, it was hard. “Easier said than done,” I told him truthfully.

  “Angel, at some point you gotta let go. It’s been over a year. You’re safe. No one will touch you. Your life is yours making it your own.”

  I let his words sink in. I felt like it was a message from Giano. I did need to make life my own. That didn’t mean I knew how to do that, but I needed to find a way to grab onto life with both hands and ride it out.

  “You’re right,” I sighed. “I just don’t know how to do it.”

  “Get some sleep so you are rested for class. You need to make friends, go on dates, have a life.”

  “I’m working on it,” I told him half-heartedly.

  “Work harder,” he fired back. “Don’t lie to me, I know what you’re doing and not doing and living is what you’re not doing.”

  “Yes sir,” I conceded no
t knowing what else to say.

  After a few more moments, he ended the call and I thought on the conversation. It was time I made friends. This was my life and life was for the living not the dead.

  If only it was as easy as telling myself that.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Six Months Later

  My first year of college was behind me and I had begun my sophomore year. I did it thanks to Giano’s money. He left me a way to carry on without the financial burdens some of my friends like Tom and Jenny faced.

  I made friends with Tom who was working toward his doctorate in psychology. He helped me focus my course load for summer semester so I could get ahead. Having his input made sure I used my electives wisely to broaden my future possibilities and not just taking some art appreciation class I would never use.

  Even though I was sure he caught my side glances at Professor Patrick from time to time, Tom never pried. I was thankful for it. It also helped that Tom was in a polyamorous relationship that kept his emotions reeling. I didn’t understand the way he could love both women, but he truly felt they both were his partners. He said monogamy was yet another psychological trick of the mind for the heart was capable of love for more than one. Society rules and perceptions kept people from wanting to be overly sexual or promiscuous instead of simply embracing love for the emotion it was.

  Fulfilling.

  He felt love was the most important emotion one could have because it was how we felt fulfilled. So the more we loved, the more we would be loved in return and the more our emotional tank would be filled.

  While these happy thoughts worked well for him, I still wasn’t sure I was the type of person who could equally love two people and create this triad of a relationship. I just wasn’t that good at multitasking.

  For Tom, he worked two jobs, tutored, went to school full-time, and some how managed to keep not one but two women satisfied. Although, he did admit he was often times overwhelmed with their needs to talk, analyze, and deconstruct the relationship, he was happy.

  I found the whole thing interesting.

  With every passing day, I was more determined than the last to major in psychology. The more people I studied the more I realized the glass box I had been in my entire life. There was a great big world out there full of people who all think and feel differently.