He Cannot Feel

Do you ever have moments where you have to question whether or not you are the problem? Of course, you haven’t. Honestly, I’m jealous. This has been a nauseating experience. Last night’s dinner was something so awful that I refuse to speak about it.

My morning starts like usual. I get out of bed, curate my physique and walk out of my room. I pause at my son’s door. The urge to just knock, reach over and speak to him is immense. But an imaginary force holds me back, forcing me to continue my mundane routine.

I enter the kitchen, grab the mason jar of heavy cream and begin shaking it. My wrist, biceps and arm burn as I continue shaking the jar. By the time I feel the mass hit the sides of the mason jar, JJ is already out of bed.

I stop shaking the jar and watch him as he opens the fridge and quickly stuffs his school lunch in his bag. He then walks out.

“Have fun at school, honey,” I say. JJ stops, nods, and leaves without looking back. I ignore my broken heart as I hear the clicks of the front door open and close. My vision blurs as the very thought of my son, the only Luxembourg worth caring about, is beginning to distance himself from me.

I don’t know what I have done. The many scenarios circulating around my head are telling me that everything is my fault. Despite this, my gut feeling is telling me that there is more to the story.

I wipe away the evidence of my aching heart and find the butter bell. I put my curation into the bell, making sure to keep it hydrated.

Good, the homemade butter is finished, all I have to do is the shopping. With that in mind, I walk back into my room and change into my running clothes: a cherry blossom Lululemon matching set.

I leave the house, drive to the park and get out. The wispy clouds cover the sky. I tie my sports shoes and begin the trot. However, it doesn't take long before my breath shortens, my heart rate increases, and sweat builds up. The track begins to warp and swirl, causing me to slow down.

I look down at my watch and see that I have only been running for four minutes. Really? I swear that I have been running for much longer.

As I run around the corner, I find a bench. Good, I can use that to sit. However, as I approach it, I see a familiar figure sitting there. Calvin’s friend or bodyguard or whatever turns and sits up once she sees that it’s me. Her usual sunglasses are nowhere in sight, revealing the deep scar in all of its glory. Once I reach the bench, I stop in front of her.

“I’m beginning to think that you’re purposefully following me, Mrs Luxembourg,” Balenciaga says. I scoff as I cross my arms. Me? Follow her? If anything, she’s probably following me.

“Oh, puh-lease. I just came here for a run, Balenciaga,” I say in between breaths. The woman crosses her eyebrows and frowns.

“Lance,” she grumbles out.

“What?”

“My name. When I am working, you address me as Lance, like the weapon.” I nod as I register the name change. I lean over, putting my hands on my knees for support. I look down at the ground, hoping that I regain my composure.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you, Lance? I’m getting dizzy,” I ask while still breathing out every second word. Lance grumbles something, but I decide to sit next to her anyway.

“I didn’t say that you could sit here.” I lean my head back and look up at the sky. The wind blowing towards me hits my sweaty body in the best way.

“Well, too bad. I will only be here for five minutes, and then I will leave,” I respond. Lance doesn’t say anything as we both sit in silence.

“Do you have any kids?” I ask. Lance doesn’t say anything. I turn my head, looking at her expression as she rubs her chin, looks ahead and wipes her eyes.

“No, but my husband wants some,” she says. I look at her, confused.

“You have a husband?” I ask a little too loudly. Lance turns to me, her side eye is lethal as she goes into defence mode.

“Yeah, I do. Why? Did you think that someone like me wouldn’t have one?” she asked. I lift my head up and raise my hands in surrender. I didn’t mean it like that.

“No, no. It’s just that… how do I put it? I just didn’t think that your type would be men,” I admit. Lance blinks a few times, shocked by my words. I lean away from her, closing my eyes as I brace myself for her wrath.

However, the sound of soft giggles enters my ears. I open my eyes, confirming what I didn’t expect. Lance is laughing. I relax and smile, watching her walls soften.

“I didn’t expect you to say that.”

“What do you mean? Look at you! I mean this in the nicest way, but when I first met you, the first thing that I thought was ‘This person has big dick energy’.

You've got the scars, the stoic mystique surrounding you, and the suit. What type of person wears a suit unless they are some sort of secret agent?” Lance smiles as she pulls on the collar.

“Ugh, tell me about it. I only wear this because of Calvin. It’s hot, and sometimes I sweat buckets in this. But, he pays for them, so I can’t really complain,” Lance admits. The moment she says Calvin’s name, my mind goes back to him. His hazel eyes, salt and pepper hair, his tan skin, and exotic voice.

“Yuck.” Lance’s voice snaps me out of my trance. Blood rushes to my cheeks as I realise that I was fantasising about her boss.

“What do you even see in him? I get the whole appeal of an alluring affair, but why? ” Lance inquires. I shrug, not really knowing what to say.

“Perhaps I can ask the same for you. Why work for a man like him? Aren’t you scared that he could turn on you and be emotionally erratic?" I ask. Lance stays silent. "Beneath his calm demeanour is a man seated in rage and fury,” I grumble, mainly to myself. Lance perks up at my words before scoffing.

“Mon Dieu.” Lance releases a dry laugh. “That’s where you are mistaken, Mrs Luxembourg." Now it's my turn to face Lance.

"What do you mean?" I ask. Lance looks at me, something gleaming in her eye. I've seen it before, back when Sabre looked at me before I found my husband in his office being… serviced.

"Do you ever watch someone and realise that something is off with them? They say the right things and appear normal, but there seems to be something underlying. Like it's wrong?" she asks. I slowly nod. It isn't often, but there have been people I have met in charities, galas, and other social events.

"You feel that way towards people like that because those people cannot feel, like at all." I look at Lance, confused about her purpose in talking about people.

"How does this relate to Calvin?" I ask. Lance turns to me, pity in her eyes.

"Calvin cannot feel. He’s always been like this." Lance reveals. I scoff at Lance's words. This is Calvin we are talking about here. There must be some semblance of humanity in him.

"I don't believe that. You are seriously telling me that there has been no traumatic event that caused him to act the way he does?" I ask. Lance shrugs as she leans back.

"You're asking me to explain him like there's an explanation," Lance says as she rubs her jaw. "There isn't a wound. There isn't a reason. Some people just come out of the factory missing something. He makes up for it by being very good at everything else," she continues. I stay silent as the revelation seeps into me.

Loud beeps ring between us. Lance takes out her phone and stops the noise. I watch her get up and send me a small nod my way. I send one right back at her and watch her walk away. I then put my hands on my face as the reality of my life starts crashing in.

There are so many things that I could’ve done differently. My life is no longer my own, and I can’t even recognise myself in the mirror. Being with Calvin has been the only time I feel like myself again. Now, I have come to the realisation that he is an absolute psycho.

Anyone and everyone is disposable to him, including me. I never considered that up until now. A sob escapes me as I feel the wetness on my palms.

I didn’t ask for any of this. I just wanted stability for myself. Now look where that has gotten me: a terrible husband, a son who hates me, and a loss of my identity.

I chose this. I must remind myself who I chose to become. I could’ve broken up with Rexonus the first time he slept with that woman on my bed.

I didn’t need to beg him to come into my life when I realised that he wasn’t going to come crawling back to me. I sacrificed so much for him, and for what? I was so close to getting my Master’s. I was on a scholarship, and now, at the age of thirty-six, I am a stay-at-home mother. I could’ve been a teacher as I’d hoped.

I ruined my life. I wipe my face and stare into the grass as the swirling thoughts come into my mind. I could leave, you know. I can run away and never look back. It isn’t the first time that I’ve thought of the idea.

But then I would leave my JJ behind. It will be unwise for me to split up our family. I made it my mission to raise my child in the best environment, even if he hates me right now. If that means staying in this environment, then so be it.

I get up from the bench and return to my car. But when I try starting it, my vision blurs as reality sinks into my chest again. I cover my mouth as sobs rack through my soul. I grab my steering wheel and shake my body as a scream rips out of me.

I slam my hands against the steering wheel, hoping, praying that it will help me avoid confronting what I thought was impossible. But it does nothing. Being with Calvin liberated me from being the wife of Rexonus Luxembourg, the son of Jackson Junior Luxembourg, and a trophy to be placed in the archives of the Luxembourg legacy. It’s become deeper than anything I can ever imagine.

I’m in love with Calvin.

Let me make this clear. I am in love with a man who cannot feel. A man who likes to manipulate those around them and discards them when he no longer deems them useful.

I know these things, and I still walk into the trap. I wrap my arms around my body as the realisation shakes me through my core. Now I have to deal with this heaviness that can never truly go away.