Undiluted Cocaine – The Australian: Chapter 11

Barely able to breathe I gathered my suitcase and walked out of the airport and into the cold, artificially lit parking garage. Blindly I found my car, got in and, as one on auto-pilot, began the long trek home. The previous twenty-four hours replayed in my head over and over again. The gin-induced hangover, the horseback tour of the grounds, the first glimpse of Ian, the electricity when his hand touched mine, the invitation to ride back to town with him, canceling the taxi, being so close to him in that tiny rental car, the tour guide assuming I was his wife, our laughter, the amazing dinner, asking him to stay the night with me, the first kiss, the words spoken, our coupling, the last kiss goodbye…

Had I imagined it all? Had none of those feelings been real? Surely they had… But then why give me the wrong email address? Why leave me with no way of contacting him? The questions rapid-fired through my brain.

I turned into the driveway of my empty, dark cottage, cut the engine, rested my head on the steering wheel and inhaled. Ignoring the sharp pain in my chest, I focused on his scent that still coated my body. It was as if Ian’s ghost was in the car with me. If only the ether of his being could hold me now, when I needed it so.

The trill of my phone’s ring brought me back to reality. I answered without looking at the screen, assuming the caller was my mother, checking to see if I had made it home in one piece. She had no idea how far I was from being in one piece, that my heart had been scattered like ashes across the states as I flew away from Ian.

“Hullo,” I said, willing myself to steel away the turmoil and be calm.

“Marian!” the Australian accented voice exclaimed, “You didn’t email me! If you hadn’t given me your business card, I wouldn’t have been able to reach you! Are you okay? I was worried sick!”


“Yes! Why didn’t you email?”

“I did! It bounced back. The email was wrong. I’ve been dying here, thinking you didn’t really mean to keep in touch.”

“You thought that? How could you think that? After yesterday… you know you have my heart. For always.”

“I love you Ian. I was breaking,” I said through my tears, “I didn’t know what to think. Hearing your voice, it’s like a dream. A wonderful dream.”

Two little transposed numbers were all it took to send me into a complete tailspin. I hadn’t slowed down to think things through logically, to consider that possibility. Unlike any other relationship I had entered, I was running on pure emotion. In the same way undiluted cocaine yields the highest, most dangerous highs followed by the darkest and most perilous lows, I had begun to discover that the tidal wave of raw emotion takes the same path. But I was already in. There was no way to jump ship now.

26 thoughts on “Undiluted Cocaine – The Australian: Chapter 11

  1. Ouch, are you saying you did this to yourself? Horrible and you wouldn’t have checked you would have left this hanging. So glad he followed you around the world with a phone call.

  2. oh i know that feeling. the adrenaline. the rush. the crash. the high. oh that endorphin laden high of an intense connection; lust, love and emotional intimacy. so glad he “found” you…

  3. Oh My Dearest Noodle! It is so terrifying loving deeper, letting go…
    I’d like to believe that although the lows are certainly lower, the highs totally make up for any pain endured. I am not at all sure of that, I do hope so though.

    Bisous My Friend,

  4. & unfortunately it can be easier to think the worst rather than hang our hopes on the best. Again your writing is so raw, so emotive. I’m aching for you through & through.

    • Thank you sweet one. So much. I don’t always feel like I get the rawness across… but in this case I’m hoping so. And your words give me hope that I’m getting there.

  5. Pingback: There Is No Light | Creative Noodling

  6. And now I’m wondering… why didn’t his girlfriend want to marry? Because she didn’t want to tie him down… I haven’t read the following posts, but it seems wrong to have had THIS and to let go of it… I know, I’m a hopeless romantic. Or maybe someone who now believes in the impossible connection. I experienced it myself, during a pregnancy. I had a deep bond with that baby. I knew her gender without a single doubt in my mind, from the moment she was conceived. Yet, like you, that relationship ended before it could develop. My beautiful baby’s heart stopped beating and took a piece of my heart away that day.
    Why I’m typing this? I wonder. I apologise for venting on your blog. Yet, these are feelings and emotions your writing stirred.
    Thank you for that. Or maybe it’s thank you to show me that it is possible to experience this. I will keep the hope alive :-)

    • There are no following posts yet. I got stalled and dropped the story but will pick it back up again eventually. From the girlfriend’s point of view I think she fundamentally didn’t believe in marriage.

      Always keep hoping. To not is to let a bit of the light dim in your soul.

      • I had let go of the hope for so long… I am just starting to recognise its light again, my soul is finally allowed to shine a bit for the first time in my life, since I left my husband. One day, I hope the light will be bright enough that it can guide my life.
        The thing I’m wondering is why did she fundamentaly not believe in marriage. Did she realise maybe that, sometimes, marriages are not meant to last a life time? And maybe she didn’t want to have a man stay with her because he had to…
        Don’t feel like you have to write the sequel for my sake. Only do it if you gain something from writing it :-)

        Thank you for your kind words. Big hugs.

Talk to me. Please.

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