Every time I hang up the phone with Phaedra I feel like I lose her along with a little bit of myself.  I don’t know the details, and I don’t want to know them, but I know what’s going on.  I’ve known for two months.  And every time she tells me that she’s going to “chill with her girls” I feel like the pieces of my heart that I still have fall apart.

Somehow I manage to keep it together.  I manage to deal with the fact that my girlfriend is cheating on me.  I put that smile on my face and go about my life as if we are living happily ever after.  I have to.  That’s my job.

Why?  Why do I stay with her when I know what she’s doing?  Why do I continue to cause myself so much pain and heartache?  I ask myself these questions all the time.  And to be honest with you, I don’t know for sure.  There are several reasons that I come up with everyday, but then I question whether they’re good enough.  What I do know is that I love her and that I don’t want to let her go.

She’s my everything.

A lot of people would think that I crazy or stupid for staying with her, but I know that she loves me.  Sometimes I have to wonder if I really do know that or if I’m just hoping that it’s true.  Whatever the case may be, I believe in our love and I’m not ready to give up just yet.  Maybe I should just confront her and try to work things out from there.  It shouldn’t matter; we both know that I know what she’s doing.  But the moment I say it out loud is the moment that it becomes real.

After the first time that I met her I took her out a couple times, but I assumed she really wasn’t feeling me.  I mean, she looked like she was a having a good time, but I felt like we weren’t connecting.  Besides, we were both really busy.  I was only in New York for about two weeks and she had school and work.  Once the fun was over we both went our separate ways.

Until…

The studio is starting to get stuffy with all of the unwanted opinions of studio groupies.  When I get uncomfortable like that my creativity is stunted and it’s really unproductive.  I excuse myself and nod at Mike on my way out so that he knows that I’ll be fine on my own.  I get in my cousin’s car and start driving, not really sure of where I’m going.  Granted, it’s an easy way to get lost, but I love doing it because those are some of the few times when I feel like a normal person.

I pull up at this quiet park and am thankful that there isn’t anyone around.  It was bad enough that I had to drive Rachel’s car so that the stalkerazzi won’t follow me.  I didn’t want to have to run around a park without my bodyguard. 

There’s a lake in the middle of the park with trees surrounding its shore.  It’s so beautiful, sparkling under the sun.  It’s times like these that make me wish I’d followed through with photography.  It’s a hobby that I always wanted to pursue, but never had the time.

As I get closer to the lake I notice that there is a flock of ducks gathered around a tree.  There’s someone feeding them I think, but I can’t tell because I’m so far away.  I continue to walk toward the lake and the image becomes clearer.  There is in fact someone feeding ducks, but it’s not just anyone.

“Phaedra?”  What’s she doing here?

She turns to look at me in shock.  “Justin?  Now I really think you’re stalking me.”  She smiles at me and her eyes sparkle a little bit like the lake.

“Pssh.  I am not.  You’re the one stalking me,” I say as I sit down next to her.  Some of the ducks scatter, as if to make room for me, and then come back for more bread crumbs.  She looks like a different person than I met in NYC.  This girl has her hair up in a messy ponytail, no make-up, sneakers, jeans, and a tank top.

“You wish I was stalking you.”  She pauses for a moment as she reaches into the container for more bread crumbs.  I expected her to toss them away from her but, instead, she extends her hand out and lets the ducks eat from the palm of her hand.  A few of them fight for her attention but only three or so make it.  The others have to go for whatever falls on the ground.

“So what brings you to Virginia Beach?  I didn’t think this was a celebrity hot spot?” I kinda feel like I can’t read her expression.  She seems happy, but for some reason I feel like she’s putting on a show.

“I’m doing a little producing for some people and a little bit of stuff for my next project.  What about you?  I never expected to see Ms. Fashonista City Girl in a place like this.”

“Why not?”  She furrows her eyebrows and it looks like I might have offended her.  “I’m down to earth.  Don’t be so quick to judge Mr. Timberlake.”

“I don’t think that you’re not.  It’s just that you seemed to fit in so well in New York, like you belong there.  Funny enough, you don’t really seem out of place here.  It’s almost like you’re a different person than I met before.”  I know that I don’t really know her all that well, but I’m usually really good at reading people.  It’s a skill that I had to develop when coming in contact with fake people all the time.

“Hmm…Well I’m originally from around here.  I just go to school in New York.  I’m just home visiting for the weekend.”  She stopped feeding the ducks and they hung around for a while until they realized that she wasn’t giving them anymore.  “If you can even call it that.”  Suddenly her demeanor changes and she’s lacking that glow she had when I first approached her.

“What do you mean?”

She stalls for a while as if she’s hesitant to tell me what’s on her mind.  “Remember how I told you how fashion is my life?”  She had more than mentioned it when we were in New York.  I remember her saying that as a little girl she knew that she was going to be a designer.

I nod.

“Yeah well, my parents are less than happy about my decision to go into the fashion industry.  They make me feel guilty about something that I’m passionate about.  They’re both OBGYNs and own a chain of private practices in Virginia, my brother is a lawyer in the process of owning his own firm, and my sister is a neurologist.  Every time I come home they make me feel like I’m such a disappointment.”

She looks so sad and vulnerable, not the strong and confident woman that I met two months ago.  “But you can be an accomplished, successful, fashion designer.  I don’t see what the problem is?”

“They say designers don’t help people.  Designers can’t save the world.  But I don’t care.  I love fashion and I’m not going to fail.  I won’t fail.”

I don’t know what to say to her, but I give her a smile so that she knows that I care.  “Looks like we both came out here to get some fresh air.”

“My grandparents used to carry me out here when I was little to feed the ducks.  They were the only ones that were okay with my decision to go to fashion school.  They always said that I should do whatever made me happy, no matter what anyone says.  They gave me enough money to pay my way through fashion school and live comfortably in New York.  But they passed last year within a few months of each other.  I feel like I have no one to turn to in my own family any more.”

I rest my hand on her shoulder comfortingly, “You know that you can always come to me.”  She looked at me alarmed, as if she couldn’t believe the words that had come out of her own mouth.  She looked away after I saw her visibly close up before me.

That was the first time she’d ever opened up to me.  I came to learn that those times would be hard to come by.