LUNA
Brandon was a big man.
His shoulders were broad and wide despite the khaki coat that was hanging around them. He was wearing a plain white buttoned-up shirt underneath with long sleeves and black pants that rested right over his ankles. His hair was dark; it was parted on one side, and although it was disorganized, Brandon still looked elegant and captivating. He had eyes that are a beautiful pair of dark brown, almost black, that I was sure one would not be able to determine if he had pupils if they would not get close to him. I started to wonder how many women got lost in them; they were gentle and full of life, so different from Casper's dull lime green eyes whenever they looked at me. But if there was one thing about his outer appearance that caught my eye, it would be the three little moles that are shaped like a triangle on the corner of his right eye. It adds some uniqueness to his beauty.
He was towering over me. Brandon was about six feet five inches if I had to make a guess.
"Miss?" His voice was not too deep, but it was husky. He sounded exhausted. He reached out his left hand and offered it to me. I took it. He was warm. Casper's hands were always cold. "I really apologize for startling you."
I shook my head and then retrieved my hand. I cleared my throat and looked up at him. "No, no, no. It was my fault for being in your way. What book were you getting?"
Brandon smiled at me, and never had I seen someone smile at me with so much gentleness, so genuine. He showed me the book his right hand was holding; it was also a paperback, and considering that he was in the same section as I was, I wondered if he was a student or a college professor. "I'm a doctor."
"A doctor? Of what?"
"Both of psychology and cardiology."
There was nothing that I could say, but I knew that my face had conveyed the message, seeing that Brandon had chuckled softly.
"That's amazing. I admire your patience and your dedication to your profession! You must be smart!"
Brandon shook his head. He jerked his chin at the book in my hands. "Would you like to have someone to discuss that book with?"
"Oh, this. Is that okay? I also got a few questions regarding a specific disorder. It was good luck that I've met someone in here that mastered psychology."
I saw each corner of his lips curl and form a small smile on his perfectly sculpted face. He must have been one of God's favorites, for he was not only blessed with handsomeness but also with the brain and the talent. I could not say the opposite for Casper as much as I wanted to; while he was not a good man and a better boyfriend to his girlfriend, there were several things that he was good at, not to mention his good looks that could get him anywhere. There were times when I wondered why Casper had not left me yet; it was obvious that he was not happy with me—content with me—but then I remembered what he said to that blonde woman the other day: "She's stupid, and she is so easy to manipulate."
My chest clenched.
My heart was clenched.
"Miss?" Brandon's voice snapped me back to reality. I had nearly forgotten that he was here and that we were speaking. His dark eyes were looking down at me; they sparkled with kindness. I could only wish for Casper's green ones to appear like that.
"Luna," I whispered.
"Luna," he repeated. Brandon's face beamed as I stared. He looked overjoyed by hearing my name. I could not understand it, but that was right; no man had ever been this way with me. It was strange, that was for sure, but it would be a lie to say that the feeling was unpleasant. If anything, it was flattering. My heart, which had barely gone over a hundred beats per minute, had probably surpassed that by now, and the butterflies in my stomach that had been asleep for the last four years had awakened.
Brandon had taken the empty seat by the corner of the table. I sat beside him and cleared my throat. He asked about the one mental disorder that I was curious about, and I willingly told him—although I did not tell him that it was my boyfriend who was the reason behind this investigation—then he told me everything that I should know about bipolar disorder. It could have been caused by a childhood trauma—I noticed how psychology always seems to connect these illnesses to the patient's childhood experiences—or it was genetic. He warned me about how the patient could become violent and aggressive at some times, and I could only smile and nod at him. There was not a chance that I would tell him that Casper had already hurt me before I even tried to look more into this; Brandon might recommend for him to get checked and, worse, get him admitted to the hospital to get the help that he needs. I shivered as I imagined the things I would have to go through if Casper were to know that Brandon heard all about this from me. Casper might kill me—no, he would kill me.
"Did I answer your concerns so far? Is there anything else you would like to know?" Brandon leaned back against his seat with a grin on his face. He looked proud, but I could not blame him for feeling like that, as he was really a bright person; I could already tell just from the way he speaks. He could have explained it all to me in a more complex way, but Brandon was too nice to elaborate on it for me in a way that a simple woman like me could understand, and I appreciated it.
"Yes. Thank you very much."
I felt my phone vibrating from inside my bag. I knew it was Casper. He could be wondering where I was, or he was mad to find that there was no dinner that was cooked for him tonight. I stood up from the seat and excused myself. I thanked the doctor who helped me understand more about Casper's "illness" and put the book back on the shelf.
"Luna!" Brandon exclaimed when I was at the door of the library. I turned and watched him tuck his hands in the pockets of his khaki coat. "Can we have some coffee before you go?"
Did I hear that right? Someone is inviting me for a coffee? Could he be asking me out on a date?
My phone vibrated once more, and panic began to set into my system. I pulled out a pen and grabbed his hand. I wrote the name of the café where I work on his palm and pushed his hand against his chest. "You can have coffee in that place. I will be there." I left him with a smile, running out of the library to answer the phone in my bag, which has been ringing for a full minute now. I would say I was lucky because there was an empty taxi in front of the building as if it was waiting for me, if only Casper was not the one who was calling me.
"Where the fuck are you?" Casper's voice roared through my phone's speaker; I had to move it away from my ear. "Do you fucking know what time it is? You haven't made any food! I'm fucking starving! "
My head turned outside the window, and I sighed. That made him angrier as he shouted at me through his phone. I could tell that the driver was able to hear his voice because he looked at me through the rear-view mirror. He averted them quickly back to the road, though, when I caught his gaze and shifted on his seat. Casper was still screaming, and I did not dare to interrupt him. That will only prolong his speech. Five years with him, and I had already heard these words from him a thousand times, and I let them go through one ear and then out through the other, although saying that they do not affect me in any way would be a lie.
When I stepped foot in the apartment, there were shards of broken glass on the floor. This was not new; however, I had hoped that Casper would stop doing something like this every time he got angry. We still got neighbors, and they all had sent complaints about our unit. To say that I was growing tired of having to answer the door myself and let them scream in front of my face is an understatement. Something bad must have happened with him; it was either related to his work or the woman he had set his eyes on for the day did not accept his invitation; Casper could be really petty like that.
"You texted so late," I answered, crouching down on the ground to pick up the broken pieces of glass carefully. Strong fingers gripped the back of my neck, and I groaned, my ankles lost balance as I knelt down to the floor. My eyes shut tight, wincing when the broken shards start piercing through my jeans and my skin. Casper yanked my head back.
"You're blaming me?" he growled into my ear. "You ought to know that I didn't have to text you. Or are you so dumb that I need to spell everything out for you?" Casper grunted and released me, throwing my head roughly so that it almost got grazed by the shards on the floor. "Make me dinner," he commanded.
Standing up, I saw blood seeping through my jeans, and my knees were throbbing with pain. I swallowed a knot in my throat and got into the kitchen. Casper was in the living room. His long legs were splayed over the couch, and his arm was over the back of the seat as he glared at me. I could feel it burning a hole in my back. There was nothing in the fridge but a can of beer.
"I'm going to buy some groceries," I whispered, and I heard him chuckle. "You didn't tell me that we've run out of them. I could've—" Casper did not let me finish. He grabbed my chin and pulled me close to him.
"Did I not say I was starving?" I tried to break free, but he squeezed my cheeks tighter. "Or did you not fucking hear me?" My fingers encircled his wrist. "Answer me!"
"I did! I heard you!" I screamed at his face. "But there was nothing in the fridge! I promise I will not take long!" He grunted, keeping his glare at me. His lime green eyes reflected my image; they were darker than usual. I prepared myself for what was to come. If the loud clattering sound of glass bottles bothered our neighbors, a human wail and the sound of a human body hitting against the wall do not. Casper would always throw me across the room like I was a bag of trash, and yet nobody had ever tried to knock into our unit's door and ask about the sound.
Casper released my jaw. His long fingers ran through his brown hair; his lips drew out a heavy breath as he turned his back on me. He pulled out his phone from his pocket, a hand on his waist, and the receiver seemed to have answered the call quickly. Casper straightened his posture, and I heard a soft chuckle. "Hey, Tati. What's up? Oh, you know, I just wanted to check on you…" My fingers tugged on the hem of his jeans. He looked down at me and kicked my hand away. Casper walked back to the living room. "Yeah, we can meet up. I'll text you the address, yeah?"
I was left in the kitchen, in a bleeding and crying mess. I promised that it would not take me long to buy the ingredients for tonight's dinner, yet Casper chose to meet another woman and have dinner with her instead. The door slammed shut; he was angry. I wiped off the tears from my face and stood up; the pain from my bloodied knees came back to me.
I tried calling him, but Casper seemed to have turned off his phone because it never got through. I received a message an hour later, saying that he would not be coming home tonight so I should not wait for him. It stung—the throbbing pain from my skin and the piercing needles in my heart. I do not know what hurt more. I spent the next thirty minutes in the shower, cleaning up the cuts on my knees, legs, and hands while crying my heart out. My sobs got louder as I imagined Casper being intimate with another woman tonight, someone who was not me, who was not his girlfriend. I was supposed to be the one sharing the bed with him tonight… He was supposed to be touching me… When did everything go wrong? When did Casper stop loving me?