Between Reel and Reality (Lesbian Romance)

Chapter Seven: Growth

AMEL

As I twiddle the golden pendant of my necklace between my fingertips, Cierre fidgets with the tinkling charms on her dazzling diamond bracelet. Nestled at the far end of the elegantly curved wool couch, she tucks her knees to her chest. The French-style doors and stacked windows capture her attention, offering a view of the vast resort-style pool. Glimmers of sunlight dance upon the sparkling azure waters, drawing her into a contemplative trance.

Though entranced, her lips move, quietly repeating multiples of seven. The practice seems to calm her wobbly exhalations. Mathematics, her once-detested subject, now appears to serve as her armor against the inner demons she battles. She stops multiplying once she gets to 98.

"Sometimes I don't know who I am," she expresses. She peeks at my attentive gaze as my slouching posture straightens. "Part of that is because I lost myself in acting, accepting role after role, not holding space for myself and my loved ones. I always put work first because that's what I have known since childhood. I regret not listening to or taking you seriously when you requested me to spend more time on you, me, us. I wasn't in a healthy headspace."

I tilt my chin at her somber gaze, acknowledging I'm listening. Her focus shifts to the expansive cream rug, its surface adorned with intricate gold lines forming geometric shapes. "You may have noticed I wasn't as fair or lenient with you as I was with everyone else," she says. "That's not your fault. Certain aspects of our relationship could have used improvement, but I don't believe your actions contributed to how I mistreated you. I kept you on edge, wondering when Mountain Cierre would explode. Sometimes, I'd erupt, meltdown, and minutes, hours later, adore you as if I never lost it."

Once again, her eyes, filled with vulnerability, lock onto mine, expressing an apology that words cannot capture. "I have a lot of respect and admiration for you, Amel," she admits. "I think you'll always be my favorite person walking this earth, and that sounds like such a compliment, but it's not. Because you're my favorite, my brain forms different expectations for you than anyone else. When I exalt you, I treat you like royalty. When I'm upset with you, you become public enemy number one."

I offer Kleenex to Cierre. She thanks me as she wipes the tears traveling over the bumps of her cheekbones. Sniffling, she continues, speaking with a hint of shame. "Shortly after we broke up, I learned that I have borderline personality disorder. It's a complicated dysfunction to explain. Most of us who suffer from it don't understand how to describe it. The inner me, the real me, understands I'm being irrational and unfair when I go off. But it's hellacious to regain control once the emotional monster has escaped its chains. Many embarrassing things I wish I could erase, like accusing you of cheating while knowing you were faithful. Allowing my ex-publicist to discredit how wonderful you were in our relationship and failing to do anything about it. Cursing you out and saying hurtful remarks anytime in the morning or night. Confusing you when I become the sweetest thing ever as if nothing happened."

She releases a deep exhale and takes a moment to clean her face. "I'm truly sorry, Amel, for the old me and her failure to tackle her mental issues. Like a tornado, my emotions wreaked havoc on your already convoluted life, and for that, I am forever repentant."

As my tongue brushes over my bottom lip, I taste the saltiness of my teardrops. A realization gradually dawns on me, occupying me with sorrow. For years, a vicious, internal parasite consumed my partner, and I stood by as it ravaged her. I often dismissed her behavior as stress from work or exhaustion from maintaining a flawless public image. Yet, it was far bleaker and more complex than that. Because of my emotional immaturity, she had to confront the shadows of her mind by herself. I failed to ask the right questions, guide her toward therapy, or truly understand what she was going through. While her reactions might not have been my fault, I should've been more attentive to my woman's wellbeing.