Sandra Bullock
The flowers she bought years ago had wilted, pressed between the pages of my favorite book. The scent still lingers, woody and earthy; it connotes history and past. I knew it in myself that the flowers had died, hence, the giver must be buried too. I tried. I tried so hard to bury her six feet under my skin, but she always finds her way – resurfacing, always finding her way back home. And I, always find myself, welcoming her back too. I love her. Still do.
“I’m sorry.” I mumbled, the apology seemed so dry on my tongue, it was as if, I felt nothing , “I can’t keep doing this.” I finished, my eyes locked up with hers and in her, I saw fear.
Rosamund looked shocked and fearful. She held my waist, her hands were soft as if she was afraid of crushing me. Her palms felt nothing on my skin – it didn’t feel featherlight nor heavy, it was just nothing. And I wanted to feel. Feel her on me. Feel her against me, but I knew I couldn’t. She was not the one.
“What do you mean?” Her voice sounded shaky; she looked at me, eager to unveil all the secrets I had on me.
There was no one in the parking lot, but us. Still, I bent my head down, feeling so ashamed of what I did and about to do.
“We need to stop this.” I spoke, “Whatever we are doing.”
“But…” She shook her head as she cupped my face in fear; her eyes swelled with tears and I could see that I was breaking her heart, “…but I thought we are.” She paused, finding it hard to stitch the word as she shook her head one more time, “I like you. No.” She shook her head as she tried to rephrase it, “I love you. I love you, Sandy.” She said with so much conviction, but it just sounded nothing to me.
I looked at her, “I’m sorry.” I apologized as I shook my head at her, “You are a wonderful woman and you don’t deserve someone like me.” I held her face with my hand as I tried so hard to make her understand, “I don’t deserve you.”
“Why?” And with that, Rosamund’s tears fell, one by one.
“I love someone else.”
Time stood still. The breaking of her heart was the only thing I could hear. Her tears fell even harder and despite me wanting to undo what I said, I couldn’t. I vomited the truth and she deserved to at least know half of it. I watched Rosamund slowly nod, as if accepting the half-baked truth I gave her. She then gave me a smile despite all the tears streaming down her face.
“Can I at least…” She caressed my cheek so lovingly that I closed my eyes; she did not deserve to be broken by me, “…can I at least kiss you?”
I nodded. It was the least thing I could do. And she did. Rosamund placed a soft peck on my lips.
“So…this is it.” She smiled at me as she wiped her tears, “In another lifetime, promise me we will try.”
I nodded. It was a lie because in another lifetime, I knew my heart would still be looking for Cate.
I tossed and turned on bed for the entire night. I wanted to go look for Cate so bad, but I refrained. I wish the morning hadn’t come. I was not in the mood to get up just yet. Another day in the hospital, I figured. I would really prefer to stay at home, but I was perturbed by my phone buzzing and my alarm clock that kept on wailing. If only my wants could be fulfilled. In my frustration, I blasted the alarm clock by slamming it against the table with a tsk. I got up then and grabbed my phone. Jennifer had nine missed calls and twenty-three unread texts. When I clicked on her messages, my soul fled my body. Shock was a bit of an understatement. I flung my body off my bed and bolted towards the sala. I opened my television and there, I saw it. Cate Blanchett’s manager was on TV being interviewed.
I felt all the hairs on my body risen. Despite my hands shaking, I looked through all of my social media accounts and searched for hers, but I couldn’t find anything. Her accounts were deleted. She was trending when I opened Twitter. Her sudden retirement had left supporters absolutely distraught, and they were expressing their hurt. I was baffled as to why she had deleted her account. She seemed to have simply disappeared. I knew there was something wrong, and with that, it just fueled the urge to see her. I needed to see her. I needed to know what was going on.
With my hair all crazy, and in just my satin dress that I used to sleep on, I bolted towards my car. There was an unfathomable feeling deep down and I knew in my heart, that I just needed to see Cate. I passed a lot of cars on my way out of my village, almost bumping on some, but I couldn’t care less. As I got on the highway, I just found myself calling Jennifer, telling her that I wouldn’t be able to come to work. Without waiting for her reply, I dropped the call. The only thing that was running inside my head was Cate. The hell with work, the hell with my relationship state with her, I just needed to see her.
The drive towards her place felt like a flash. As soon as I saw the building of her penthouse, I stopped the car and parked, not even caring if the spot I did park was designated for parking. When I got out of my car, the cold ground hit my feet – it was when I knew, I got out of my house without slippers on. Shaking my head, I ran towards the entrance of the building and ran towards the front desk.
“Good morning. I’m looking for Cate. Cate Blanchett.”
“Oh, Ms. Blanchett isn’t avai –”
“Bullshit.” The word automatically came out of me making the woman flinch.
I ran towards the elevator and typed Cate’s floor number. As the elevator wheeled me up, I was thinking of all the possible reasons as to why she decided to leave her Hollywood life. This was her dream. Being an actress was her ultimate dream and her, just tossing it away like a piece of paper, was such a dumb move. The elevator opened and when I saw her unit, I immediately pounded on her door.
“Cate! Cate, open the door. It’s me, Sandy!” I knocked so hard that my hands hurt, but I did not care; I just wanted to see her, “Cate! Open the door. I’m here! It’s Sandra. Cate!” My voice cracked; knocking on her door and feeling like she wouldn’t open the door on me just made my knees weak. I leaned on the door feeling so hopeless, “Cate, please…” This time, my yelling was gone and was replaced by this whisper, hoping that she was on the other side all along, listening to me, “Catie, baby…please, open the door. Baby, please…” I added, so desperate that my tears started to fall, “I just want to see you, please…”
“Ma’am?” I turned around only to see one of the staff calling me, “That unit is unoccupied. Ms. Blanchett left last night.”
Upon hearing it, it felt like someone poured hot wax all over my head. I felt like it dripped and made its way to open the crevices of my skin. I felt the burning of my flesh and the numbing of my bones.
She left.
***
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