She couldn’t talk about love without painting violence, hence she knew that staying in that relationship – with almost no words to fall back on, with only fleshless declarations and ghostly nights – would do her no good. Sandra knew her heart got claws and staying in a relationship, kissing the ghost of a lover, would trigger the claws her heart got; she couldn’t afford hurting Cate and so she let go.
“Where are you?” She tried so hard not to sound vulnerable, tried so hard not to cry as she didn’t want to mess her make-up, “When are you coming home?” She added, eventually placing the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she placed cutleries on the table.
The whole home was dimly-lit. Rose petals and peonies adorned the whole floor, making it look like a white marbled canvass full of red and pinkish spots. It was Cate’s birthday. They had decided to have an intimate dinner to celebrate it. Sandra took an early off from the hospital where she was having her residency as she secretly planned to cook for the celebration, instead of ordering things as what they had previously planned. Her girlfriend was at a taping, but she knew she would be home by eight in the evening. But the clock had already turned it’s hand to nine and the steaks had gone cold. The champagne sitting in an ice-filled metal pail started to drown as the ice melted its existence. The candle sitting on the centre of the table was flickering to death, still the brunette hoped she was just running late.
“Baby?” She asked again as she could only hear the banging of loud music on the line.
“Hi, my love.” It sounded so sweet that it made the brunette smile, “I’m here.”
“Where are you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. The whole cast invited me to some bar for my birthday celebration. I’m sorry I might be late tonight. Can we just re-sched tomorrow, baby? We’ll order all of our favorite food tomorrow and I promise we’ll celebrate. I’m sorry, I really cannot say no to these people.” Cate sounded so apologetic despite the crashing sounds of the music.
Sandra felt like she was skinned. She slowly sat on the chair and stared at all the food she prepared. Cate wasn’t going to go home that night, she knew. Hearing her apologies on the other line, it felt like her heart was getting stomped on and she was having hard time processing every single thing. She was just taken aback when Cate called her again on the line and it was when she knew her tears had silently fell.
“Baby?”
“Oh,..” Sandra wiped her tears, “Yeah. I’m here.”
“Would you be fine if we re-sched the celebration tomorrow night? I cannot escape these people.” Cate chimed and Sandra did hear the people on the background calling for her girlfriend, telling her that it was her turn already.
“Oh, yes. It’s…” Sandra wiped her tears again as she sucked her breath, trying so hard not to let her girlfriend know that she was crying, “…fine. We can just re-sched…tomorrow night.”
“Okay, good to hear. I love you, okay? Don’t wait for me. I might be out super late.”
The brunette nodded to herself, “Okay. Take care. Have fun.” She spoke along with those words were big droplets of tears that had successfully escaped, “And baby?”
“Yeah?”
“Happy birthday. Have fun.”
“That drink won’t dry up if you just stare at it.”
The brunette looked at the bartender as the bartender pushed the glass of vodka in front of her even closer. She knew she had been staring at the vodka for a few minutes already and with the bartender calling her out for it, she shook her head as she got the glass and took a sip of the liqour. The burning taste of the vodka ran down her throat like fire and every inch of her flesh was melting down underneath the vodka’s claws, still the brunette found the drink to be comforting.
She then looked around the whole space that she was in. Neon lights. Loud music. A big crowd of people dancing. And she never liked crowds. As she sat there on a bar stool, she thought that if there was one big crowd she would have loved to escape, it was not the crowd in that bar, it was her mimd. Sandra didn’t know what was she doing in the bar, but she couldn’t say that it was a futile thing to do alone, because as she watched the waves of people dancing, it made her smile. Will I ever possess the happiness I pretend to have have? Cleansing her thought away with her drink, she then fished out her phone and stared at the time. 1: 36 AM. Saturday. Few hours had passed since she called Cate’s number to which she received a not-so anticipated hello.
“Hello?”
As soon as the brunette heard that hello, her crippling bones started to shatter. All her unwanted flesh resurfaced and started to grasp around her very core. The grave of her buried pains opened up and she just found her tears slowly streaming down her face. That hello never sounded like hello, it sounded so much like goodbye.
“Uhm.” She bit her lip as she tried so hard to not let the receiver know that she was crying, “I am calling for Cate. Cate Blanchett. Is she there?”
Sandra wanted to drop the call. She didn’t want to hear more from the other person’s voice, but what the truth was that she was afraid. She was afraid to know who the other woman was and why did she answer Cate’s phone. Did the blonde give her the right to? And if yes, why did Cate gave her the rights? Who was that woman? What was her relationship to Cate?
“Catie?” And there, that was what we all call murder; Sandra knew Cate hated that name, but she was letting that woman used it. “Somebody’s calling for you!” The woman shouted and Sandra could hear the blonde on the background asking who, “May I know who is this, please?” She sounded sweet as she asked and the brunette could picture a woman in her 20s something, much more younger than them, a brunette looking delicate and very lovable.
“Just tell her it’s…” She wiped her tears as she took her chair and sat on it; she couldn’t stand any longer for she knew she could collapse on the floor, “…it’s from the hospital. I just want to check in to see how’s her leg doing.”
“Oh, yeah her leg. Wait I’ll go get her.”
If she waited on the line, Sandra could have heard her voice. She could have talked to her. But hearing another woman’s hello from her ex-girlfriend phone was enough indication that what she wanted to say would not matter anymore. Instead of waiting, the brunette dropped the call and on her chair, trapped in her white-walled office, she sobbed.
“Three more glasses of vodka, please.” The brunette ordered.
“Mending a broken heart?” If she was drunk, she would have mistaken the bartender as Cate; same raspy voice, oozing charm, blonde and pretty.
She gave her a smile, shaking her head, “No.”
“Then why are you trying to get drunk?”
She laughed and instantly chugged a whole glass of vodka as the bartender handed her a new one, “Because I want to dance!” She added, laughing at her own lie.
***
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