Chapter 7
”Lumi, there's a gentleman here to see you!” Jeff hollered while I was taking inventory in the back room. I wiped my dusty hands on my apron, pushed the pen and the notepad into the pocket and emerged from the room hoping I didn't have many cobwebs in my hair.
I missed a heartbeat when I noticed Ward standing there, uncharacteristically in a black coat and blue shirt. I hadn't seen him in a few days. I missed another heartbeat when I noticed the state he was in. His hair was a mess and he clearly hadn't shaved in the morning. His red-rimmed eyes had a lost look in them and his left hand was bandaged. He was breathing fast and lifting his weight from one foot to another and seemed oddly relieved when he saw me. A hollow feeling cramped in my guts when I realized something must be terribly wrong.
I asked Jeff to take care of the shop and gestured Ward to go upstairs. He dragged himself up the stairs, plopped down on the bed and covered his face with his hands.
”What happened?”
”I got fired. And lost all my funds.” He rubbed his palms against his forehead. The bandaged hand looked swollen and bruised. ”I was so close to getting away.” His voice cracked, making him sound desperate.
Bewildered, I dropped down on the bed beside him. ”How could that happen? Don't you own the company?”
The sound he made could have been laughter. Almost. ”The board voted us out. Both of us.”
What on earth could have happened? Did it have something to do with his hand injury? ”Did you hurt your hand because of that?”
He rubbed his temples with his fingers. ”No, that's something else. It doesn't matter.”
I didn't understand what was going on. But something he'd said was bothering me. ”You said you were getting away. Getting away from what?”
”You have no idea what my life is like!” He almost hissed as he glanced at me sharply. His pupils were dilated and he was shivering. ”My life is a joke. A ridiculous joke I wish to god I would be able to wake from.”He shook his head. ” All my energy goes to keeping my shit together, dealing with the company and managing... certain people. I don't own my life. I never have.” His hands were now shaking violently. He tried to dig out the medicine bottle from his pocket, fumbled and dropped it to the floor.
”Fuck!”
”I don't think you should...”
”You don't know shit!”
I leaned back. This was not the Ward I knew. But then I didn't really know him, did I?
He buried his face in his hands. ”I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I'm sorry.”
I felt powerless. I didn't understand what had led him to this condition. Surely it couldn't only be about losing his job. ”Can you tell me about it?"
”I can't! I... can't. I've done things... things that would make you ashamed of me.”
I was sure as the head of Rand Enterprises he'd had plenty of experience in morally gray areas. Maybe he had been fired because of them. Maybe he was now anguishing over the choices he'd once made for the company. ”Do you regret doing them?”
”Regret?” He looked up at me, surprised.
”Yes, regret. Not what your actions have cost you, but what they have cost those people you've wronged. Do you regret that?”
”...Yes.” The answer sounded more like a question than a definitive answer, but I decided to let it go.
”Then you are not the villain here.” I tried to be as convincing as possible. ” It doesn't excuse you from the responsibility of your actions, or make things better for the people you have hurt, but at least it tells you that there is good in you.” I wanted to touch him, but in his state of mind, he might have taken it the wrong way.
He moved sideways, now facing me. ”You are not judging me?”
I sighed since I was no closer to understanding what was going on. ”Look, I don't know what you've done or what led you to do those things. It's not my place to judge.” I shook my head. ”You do need to decide what to do with that regret though. Use it for good or let it nag you for the rest of your life. Up to you.” His eyes were fixated to mine and I could see so much pain and agony in them. My heart felt like it was crumbling to pieces for him.
He lifted his right hand to my cheek and caressed it with his thumb. His touch sent a blaze of pleasure through me and I sat there, frozen, afraid that if I moved, he'd stop. I glanced at his lips; they were apart and he was breathing heavily. He was leaning towards me, his eyes on my lips. For a moment thrill surged through me. I would get to caress those perfect lips, feel the tingle of his stubble against my skin, taste his tongue with my own. Then, reality.
He was not acting like a person capable of making level-headed decisions. His desire to connect was not about me, but about his own hurt and anguish. I couldn't let him do it. He wasn't doing it for the right reasons.
My hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds when I lifted it to his shoulder to stop him from coming closer. I swallowed hard and whispered. ”You don't want to do that.”
He held still. ”Why?”
It was difficult to formulate words. I felt I had to force them out. ”You think you want to, because you're hurt, and you need someone, anyone to be close to you. To forget what happened, or what's going to happen.”
He lowered his hand from my face and I immediately missed the feeling of it. His breathing was getting ragged.
There was something in my throat, trying to block the words. ”I just happened to be here. And I can't let you do that to me.”
He had more problems than I was aware of and I wasn't the solution he really wanted or needed. I couldn't even be a temporary relief since that would cost me too much. ”You need help, but I can't give you the kind of help you want.”
He was looking down with a vacant expression. I finally summoned enough courage to place my hand on his cheek and lift his eyes to meet mine. He briefly pressed his face against my palm, skin sweaty and hot, the stubble tickling against my hand. I tried to speak as gently as I could. ”Tell me what I can do?”
His eyes hardened and an indifferent mask descended onto his face. ”Nothing. This was a mistake.”