A rolling dice

It was one of the hottest summer days and yet she had never felt colder. The emptiness she let sinking in while staring out of the penthouse window was numbing. Las Vegas Boulevard was alive. Thousands of people swarmed the Strip hungry for the next fix of escape from reality. The phone buzzed on the table next to her, shaking the pile of 20,000 dollars-worth of casino chips against the glass tabletop. The pile was surreally smaller than she would have expected. The amount that would solve all her debt problems was but change here in the Sin City. Heaviness filled her body, when she forced to break her gaze and reached for her old Samsung. Her heart sank at the thought of seeing his name on the screen. She was not in a hurry to check the phone. As she took it from the table, she gently let her fingers slide across its red shredded case and smiled. It was full of little pieces protruding out of the case falling off, piece by piece, leaving patches of black basis underneath. She thought of the day she had bought the red case a year and a half ago. It was the week before she met him. She let out a brief ironic laugh at the realization of how much the case reflected the emotional rollercoaster she had been going through. It was her Dorian Grey’s portrait, deteriorating under the weight of her soul ever since he came into her life. “I will make it right. I promise.”, said the text.

*

A little black notebook, hidden in the upper drawer of his garage desk provided company to the toolbox from the drawer below and the red Chevrolet that was dented on the right side from the accident a week ago, which resulted in a concussion. He still felt an uncomfortable pressure in the brain area whenever he turned or stood up too fast. He pulled up into the driveway at around 3.45 that morning and usually entered the house through the garage doors to not to wake up his wife who was sleeping in the upstairs bedroom of their newly purchased home. That night, before going in, he opened the wooden dusty desk to reach for the notebook. It looked old and used and its cover was patchy. One of the last patches of its cover layer was seconds from peeling and falling off. The notebook was full of names. Women names. Women he had gotten involved with over the years on a side. The names were all crossed off with a pen, except for the last one. Few times he thought he had found her, but he ended up disappointed. His heart had gotten heavier and heavier through time. That night, he stood in the corner of his poorly illuminated garage and felt the heaviest he had ever felt. He could barely stand it. Not because he would have grieved not seeing his lover again nor because he knew his disappearance would hurt her, but because deep down he felt he took the easy way out. Again. And he deeply despised this part of him. The coward part. The part that made him live a lie. The part that was pushed aside, yet it resurfaced every time his life got slightly hard or boring. He felt himself spiraling into apathy and self-contempt again. Every time he crossed off the name, he gave in to the dullness of his suburban life, not realizing his notebook started to reflect the deceiving life and scatteredness of his soul more and more with each crossed off name. He clicked open the pen he had found in the glove compartment and stopped in hesitation. Was he making a mistake this time? The lightbulb illuminating the space around him flickered. Ten minutes later he was sitting in the dark staring at his phone. The blank page before him evoked deep shame as he was trying to write the text without feeling totally worthless. He didn’t know what to say to her. Nothing that came to mind seemed good enough. “I will make it right. I promise.”, he finally scrabbled. Even though he wasn’t sure what to do to make it right nor if he really wanted to go through the trouble of doing so.

*

She felt abandoned by him. Again. It had been a week since he had disappeared without saying goodbye. That night, she came out of the shower into an empty room. It was 3am and he just vanished. Although it hadn’t happened the first time, her heart sank. It was no point in assuming and hoping he just stepped out for some fresh air or drinks. She felt he was gone. Again. Her strength almost abandoned her too. Her feet barely held her up. Each breath felt like it’s her last. For a second there she wondered, if he knew.

*

He left their hotel room last night, after she stepped in the shower. He contemplated joining her for a second or two, but the thought of what he had witnessed a couple of hours before sent chills down his spine. It was enough to resist the temptation to stay, although his desire was greater than the terror, when he had been slowly enjoying every inch of her body just a few minutes ago, knowing all too well this was the last time he will gaze in her big hazelnut eyes. On his drive home his mind was racing. It was continually travelling back to that Craps table. As he was being enchanted by her free spirit and laughter while she was ruling the dice, he suddenly didn’t see people gambling and having a good time anymore. Cheaters, liars, scammers, abusers presented before him, he saw broken souls giving into simple pleasures, he saw zombies starving for distraction from their monotonous everyday lives. He saw their souls getting trapped in casino chips she had been taken for herself one by one with seeming effortlessness. It dawned on him that his life was in that chip. And the chip was in her hands. It felt daunting and attracting at the same time. The ambiguity was paralyzing. He wasn’t brave, or rather whole enough, to withstand it. He detached himself, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He felt that even if she would let him avoid the spell, a part of him was trapped in that chip. Forever. She acquired 20,000 dollars-worth of souls that night at the casino. The souls that rested silently on the table across the room, while they were later making love. Cold chills shook his body as he glanced at the pile before he left. He wanted to run away as fast as he could. From that pile. From that room. From her.

*

The text never came. It was the Uber picking her up that was responsible for the buzzing. The time had run out for him to show up. The last piece of her phone case peeled off. Suddenly she felt peace for the first time in months as it hit the ground. She put her hand on her not-yet-showing belly and whispered, what she felt for the first time in a long time: “We’re going to be ok.”

*

He never sent it. He silently went back to the garage and crossed off her name, when he realized the cover of his little black notebook was finally completely shredded. Much like his soul. Much like his will to change his life. He felt different this time as he was slowly getting under the blanket, putting his arms around his safety. He knew he will miss her.

*

She never knew about her.

*

He never knew about her.