Enough for Now

"Is this the last of it?" I asked, forcing myself to look him in the eye.

"That's it." He said, dropping the cardboard box full of items carelessly into my arms.

I cleared my throat, before turning my attention to the neglected, disarrayed room that I stood in. There were trails of tobacco lingering amongst scattered cigarette papers, junk food packaging wedged between stain smeared cushions, dishes piling up across the floor and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels that sat solemly in the centre of the coffee table. I winced, in realisation that it looked nothing like the apartment I .. we .. once called home.

"I guess I'll just let myself out then." I spoke, setting his key onto the worktop.

"Mhm." He murmered, without as much as a goodbye.

Sighing, I turned on my heel and headed towards the door. Wondering how it had come to this.

6 Months Previous.

"God, I missed you." James spoke, slowly breaking away from our embrace.

"You did?" I teased, attaching my lips to his once more.

For the past two months, he had been filming on location in Canada. Tonight, was the first opportunity he had to fly back to California and if I were honest, his arrival was long awaited.

"I think you should get rid of these clothes." I whispered, kissing my way down his neck.

He smirked, lifting my chin so to look into my eyes. "Isn't that your job?"

Without response, my hands travelled straight to his shirt, where I immediately began to undo his buttons. "It feels so good knowing I have you all to my self.. " I purred, as he nibbled softly on my neck, using his tongue to fondle areas in which he knew made me squirm.

"All yours baby, for five whole days." He responded, pulling my t-shirt up over my head.

I stopped the foreplay, almost immediately after the words left his mouth. Five days?

"What's wrong?" James asked, sensing my change of mood.

"I'm ... " I began, but somehow found it difficult to proceed. "..being selfish."

His brows furrowed, and he sat up, sliding his arms securely around me. "Selfish?"

I chuckled half heartedly, running the back of my hand along his cheek, down to his jaw and back up again. "I'm always selfish.." I spoke, staring into his beautiful brown eyes."..when it comes to spending time with you. But you can't honestly blame me for that, can you?"

He smiled, before kissing me softly. "You know that if I could, I'd spend every waking hour with you."

"I know." I replied, "If you could... but you can't. It just, it gets hard sometimes."

His gaze lingered on me for a short while after, a look of sincerity, but also of guilt. And instantly I regretted bringing it up. "It's hard for me too, Lucy. Maybe more so than it is for you.. " He said.

I raised my brow, edging slightly away from him and as if reading my mind, he knew that he shouldn't have said that. "I didn't mean it like that, I... shit."

He paused, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. Then, in an attempt to re-phrase his sentence, I placed a finger firmly to his lips."Let's not do this tonight, okay? Our time is of the essence.. "

He nodded and kissed me, allowing his tongue to massage mine. His hands snaking their way down my thighs, pulling off the remainders of my underwear. "I love you, Luce. I just wish it was enough."

I paused again, this time to assure him. "It is." I said, "I love you. I love you so much."

Then, as if none of us had spoken, we continued where we left off.

Allowing it to be exactly that, at least, for now.

* * *

I stood in the living area of my new apartment, surrounded by nothing but boxes filled with styrofoam and old memories. The sun was setting outside and the laughter from my oddly enthusiastic neighbours only reminded me of my own melancholy. Here I was, twenty six and starting afresh, with a career and a college degree to be adorned. And yet.. my personal life was crumbling beneath me.

I exhaled slowly, flopping down onto the only piece of furniture that was present in the apartment - a newly bought leather sofa, supplied by my sister who, after purchasing, didn't like the colour. I debated what to do with my evening, before realising there was nothing to actually do in an empty apartment, all of which resorted in me ordering Chinese food.

After eating, I felt bloated and woozy, which was strange considering I had consumed no alcohol with my meal. And as I reached for my cell, I decided that maybe not having a glass of wine with my dinner was the problem. Apparently, becoming intoxicated made everything better, atleast for a little while. I groaned, noticing the tiny numerical figures on my Blackberry read only: 8.30pm. It was still far too early to go to bed, not that I could anyway. I was currently residing with my older sister - the one who had supplied the sofa - and her husband Harry. She had never approved of my relationship with James. "Why get involved with celebrities?" She had said, "Nothing good will ever come of it."

Her dire, pessimistic attitude was something I would have shunned back then, but now it seemed like everything she had predicted had rose to fruition. James and I were no longer together, no longer happy, no longer filled with any substantial purpose with the exception of our careers. He had been travelling between New York and California for the past two months, something I was envious of. At any given time, he could fly to an escape. An escape from all of this bullshit. From relationships. From his family. From reality. From me...

"Could you please, just for one second, think of me?" He said, his body still wet from the shower.

"Think of you? Are you serious right now?" I asked, incredulous. "That's all I ever do!"

He walked towards the closet, gripping tightly onto the towel wrapped neatly around his torso.

"I've been there for you James, supported you at every red carpet event, every premiere...." I spat.

"And tonight shouldn't be any different! It's the Oscars, for Christ's sake. Don't you get that?" He yelled. "Are you unaware of how big a deal this is for me? I'm co-hosting!"

I laughed, with fear if I didn't do so, that I might instead cry. "Are you hearing yourself?"

"I don't get what the problem is, Lucy!? Why can't you just do this for me?" He said, frustrated.

I ran a hand through my loose browns curls, wanting more than anything to make him see things from my perspective. "You threw this on me, James. I literally found out with one weeks notice."

Tossing a shirt onto the bed, his angered expression soon met with mine. "I gave you a week, a week to clear your calendar. Yet you're still complaining! What else was I to do?"

I narrowed my eyes, in total disbelief of what he was saying. "I don't know who you are anymore." I uttered, before storming out of our bedroom.

"Oh, c'mon Lucy!" He shouted, "Stop being so fucking melodramatic. I don't need this shit!"

Hearing his words, I buckled. Collapsing into a heap of fragility. A tear stricken mess. Just like that.

"Lucy!" James' irritated voice echoed, getting closer and closer until he was kneeling beside me on the wooden floorboards of our hallway."God, Luce.. I.. "

He pulled me into him, my head resting on his shoulder. "I can't .. " I began, but he stopped me.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything." He said, drawing circles on my back. "I'm sorry."

Siting up, I was now at eye level with him. "I'll go with you." I said, "..but this is the last time."

He furrowed his brows, about to speak, but before he could, I did. "I hate who we've become. Not just you. Me. I hate this person. We're not happy anymore. We're miserable and always arguing.. "

"Luce.. " He interrupted, but I ignored him. His glossy brown eyes fixated on me.

"No, it's true. You know it is. This bitterness, it needs to end."

He was quiet, and instantly so still as he held me in his arms. Seemingly unable to absorb the words that I had just spoken. He was numb, and so was I.

Numb from trying to figure out when loving someone just wasn't enough anymore.

-

I awoke to the sound of the birds, chirping and singing like optimistic little fools. It had seemed that I had fallen asleep in my empty apartment with the windows fully opened and the door unlocked. Intruders or buglars, were obviously the last thing on my mind and I had presumed that if they were to appear, they would only be disappointed anyway, with nothing to be stolen besides myself, a sofa, several cardboard boxes and some leftover Chinese food.

Inhaling in a sharp breath, I stood up from my current position on the sofa and thought it best to head back to my sisters house. I hadn't contacted her since yesterday afternoon, and the thought of showing up after being out all night did seem a little rude. It wasn't however, as if I'd been out painting the town. I had simply ended up in an apartment that would soon be my own, alone with my thoughts. And only then did I realise how pathetic and sad it was. How very, very sad.

Shaking out of my pity party, I cleared away the remainders of my Chinese, made sure to lock the apartment door and headed to my car. I quickly checked my cell, noticing I had ten missed calls from my sister and one from an unknown number. I debated whether or not to call the number back, but figured that if they so badly needed to get in touch with me, they would find a way.

As I inserted my keys into the ignition, I felt something sharp jab into my lower back. Shifting in discomfort, I removed the item and found it to be James' old 'Meteora' Linkin Park CD. He must have placed it along with my items by accident. Nevertheless, I inserted the disc into my radio and decided to play a random track. I rode the distance home in comfortable silence, with nothing in the background bar Linkin Park's lyrics which seemed so suited to my life right now.

'Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface .. every second I waste, is more than I can take.'

2 Weeks Later.

I hadn't heard from James in two weeks. The last time I recalled we spoke, was on the visit I had made to collect the last of my belongings. Not that I was expecting to hear from him, ofcourse. Our relationship now, was barely existent. I had however, come across more of his things when clearing out my boxes and I felt it my responsibility to return them to him. They weren't items of great importance, just things in which I thought he might miss. Like for instance, his CD. A few novels..

It had also occured to me, that maybe he wouldn't miss them. Maybe I was just making excuses for myself. Excuses to see him again. To be in his presence. To see his smile, not that he ever done much of that around me anymore. It was something I found peculiar, considering the mess he and the apartment had been in on my last visit. Yet, on more nights than I would have liked to admit, I felt myself lonely and in need of his embrace.

Pulling up outside of his apartment block, I shifted the ludicris thoughts from my mind and carefully lifted his things from the boot of my car. I breathed in, then out, then in and back out again and proceeded towards my old life. I knocked once, awaiting his disappointed expression when he opened the door to find me standing there. Then again, just incase he didn't hear. Instead of knocking for a third time, I decided to be brave and twisted the door knob, in which I found to be open.

"James?" I called, entering his apartment. "It's Lucy.. "

I looked around, slightly startled by what I saw. It was empty. Every trace of him gone. Every trace of us. Our life shared in this apartment. There was nothing. Not even dust. Walking further in, I settled his box of items onto the floor and felt a wave of sadness wash over me. He hadn't even told me. Right enough, why would he? I was no longer a part of his life. My opinion was now irrelevant. Before leaving, I took one last walk around, until the nostalgia had got the better of me. Tears flooded my eyes, and just as I was about to run out, something caught my eye. An envelope sat on the worktop of the counter, addressed 'To Lucy' in black felt pen, words that had been scribbled in his writing.

It began:

Dear Luce,

As you will have probably found out by now, I'm no longer living in California. A week or so ago, I decided to move back to New York. Living here was too hard. This apartment was a constant reminder of you. Of us. And even though it was the hardest thing to admit, we both needed to move on. You know that. I do too. The move was actually inspired by a girl I once knew. She made me happy, but I never got to appreciate that because I was constantly working. I guess you could say that I never truly appreciated her. She once told me that loving her would be enough, but I know now that it wasn't. That it couldn't be. Not when I was hardly present to give her the time and love she deserved. The moral of the story? Is that I never stopped loving this girl. And If I'm honest, I don't think I ever will. She is bright and beautiful and I know that wherever she goes next, whatever she does, she'll do it whole heartedly. Because that's just who she is. Always giving. And now, I'd like to thank her for everything she did for me. For everything she sacrficed and for everyday I spent in her presence. Thank you, Lucy. Thank you for everything.

Yours,

James.