What Can You Not Buy With Money?

Burgess had answered the door this time, and I noticed that all of his housekeepers weren’t around. I put my hand over my arm, timidly waiting for him to say something.

“You want anything to drink?” Burgess offered, waiting for me to take the initiative in conversation.

“Water would be fine.” I quietly answered, studying him. It felt like years since I really looked at him, and I carefully held my gaze as I scanned his face. He changed: his posture no longer so proud and haughty; his face no longer smirked with that adolescent gleam. He looked much older, colder, and harder. It was as though I had left a pristine crystal out in the wilderness; facing the cruelest of conditions. Now, the crystal was no longer pure but weathered, tougher, and calloused.

He took me to the kitchen, where he poured me a glass from a pitcher. I took a seat at one of the bar stools by the island counter, and he stood across from me while never taking his eyes off of me. It seemed he couldn't believe I was there in front of him, and he blinked to refresh his vision for assurance.

It was so quiet, but I had no wish to break the silence. When I received the drink, I took slow sips of the purified water and waited for him to take charge. I was surprised to taste a slight sour tinge on my tongue, instead of having a crisp and cool soothing sensation in my mouth.

“Is your friend undergoing the surgery?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Burgess nodded, and solemnly sighed. “Are you hungry?”

“No, thank you.” I held the glass as I looked down at the expensive marble of the countertops. The texture suddenly stole my attention and I pretended to find it fascinating.

“Look at me,” Burgess took my chin and pulled my face up towards him. His eyes ran all across my face, and all I could do was let him study me. Then, he went to kiss my mouth, being as slow and thoughtful of the physical contact as he ever was. Some things never changed. Already, I felt slightly dizzy.

Though I tried not to, I stiffened in his grasp, which caused him to pull away. “Why me?” I couldn't help but ask him, my throat stinging from the internal emotions that violently squirmed inside.

Burgess’ eyes narrowed, disappointed by my lack of enthusiasm. “You know why.”

I shook my head, defeated but still imploring. “But before, you never believed me.” I wasn’t trying to accuse him, but my soft tone was enough to change his attitude.

“Would you have believed me if the roles were reversed?”

“I would have tried. I would have given you a chance to prove it. I would have listened.”

“Then why was it that you never gave me a chance when I finally came for you?”

My eyes watered, his face too contorted with pain for me to handle. “Because it was too late.”

He pulled away, distraught by our circumstance. “I know I’ve lost you. And after tonight, I’ll let you go—even though it’s tearing me apart. You have no idea how I feel, and I doubt you ever will. But I'm starting to understand what I need to do." He paused, before adding, "I’d rather be miserable if that makes you happy.”

“You being miserable doesn’t make me happy.” I quietly defended myself as I put a hand over his. “I never wanted you to feel this way.”

Burgess looked at me. “And I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know. But we both hurt each other anyway.” Despite the moral conflicting voice in my head warning me to back off, I felt it was the right thing to do. As messed up as it sounds, and twisted as it was, I needed him to know that I had no feelings of animosity for him. “I still care for you.” I felt strange, my stomach stung and my throat felt dry. I took a longer drink of water, but it didn’t help. I could only allow my senses to be enveloped in the feeling of floating away.

“Is it the same as how you care for Walker?” He had hope that there was still something for us, like I had hope that Walker would live. Only his hope was something I didn’t see coming true.

“No, not anymore.” I looked down at our feet, then back up to his face. “He was there for me, when you weren’t.”

After a painful quiet, Burgess put his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a smoldering hug. His breathing seemed slower and deeper, revealing his decision of surender. “Let’s not talk about that. Please. Just love me like you used to, until my twenty four hours are gone.”

I obliged. Lying was something we all did, and I figured another day of deceit wouldn't change anything. And we were both aware that deep down there was no way to deceive the other. But still, I did as he wished, and looked up to him. I could have been a wonderful actress. “I love you, Ben.” I closed my eyes, almost wishing I could cry. Sometimes, life wasn’t fair. And I knew how much this was hurting him, as much as he wanted this.

He looked at me, and then kissed me again. This time, he was hungrier—impatient—and he was already running his hands through my hair, down my neck, and squeezing me tightly.

Eventually, he pulled me from the kitchen and up the stairs, sucking on my lower lip while running his hands across my skin. When we reached his bedroom, and I was on the bed, he had stopped placing his attention on me to retrieve another fix of alcohol. He had a bottle of expensive scotch on his dresser, a crystal glass partnered beside it.

Though I wanted nothing more than to just fall to sleep, I sat up on the mattress, looking over with that familiar twinge of worry as I watched him pick up the bottle.

“Ben,” I got on my feet and went up to him. I placed my hand over the empty glass, hoping he wouldn’t. “You need to stop hurting yourself.” I looked down at the nearby nightstand, where a small packet of a white powdered material caught my eye. “Please…”

Burgess smiled—not smirked, but actually beamed—and turned to me. It wasn’t a smile of joy, but simply a small gesture that did its best to cover up the agony that his eyes reflected. “I guess for tonight I don’t need it.”

After he said that, I couldn’t remember anything clearly. Everything came in intervals, my brain no longer working. I wondered if I was the one who was really sick, or if I had finally lost it.

But all I remember was his warm lips pressed against mine and his arms protectively surrounding my body.

And then, nothing.