I trotted back down the stairs with every intention of getting to work, but somehow I found myself surfing the Internet to learn more about the woman I’ve tried to forget for fourteen years.
I knew the basics. She went from an elite modeling career where most of it was spent in the major fashion houses in Paris, Milan, and New York to a breakout acting role eight years ago that earned her an Oscar. Eden was a fucking incomparable beauty, which earned her lots of money with that gorgeous face and body, but if anyone doubted she could make the jump to serious acting, they were wrong. I happened to know how savvy Eden is, and she put her smarts to work to build an incredible career that’s left her famous as well as mega rich, independent of her family’s wealth.
I do wonder, though, if her career is fulfilling to her. I get why she went for it. At eighteen, why wouldn’t she try? Why would she let a silly thing like a boyfriend hold her back?
Or perhaps I didn’t try hard enough. Maybe I shouldn’t have let her go. I wonder how things would have turned out had I done that.
It did no good to speculate, so I focused on the recent news about Eden, and there was a ton of it. I popped her name in Google and got a slew of articles and social media posts about what happened earlier this week with her fiancé. I had not known she was engaged, and it was a bit of a punch when I found out from Ashley. But after watching the video of what went down outside that movie theater, there’s no doubt that Brad Wright is a complete and utter douche. Not only did he fuck around on Eden, but he’s since been spreading nasty lies about her, and because he’s one of the world’s biggest action stars, he’s got a legion of female fans posting brutal and vicious things about Eden. Granted, she’s got a big fan base too, but Eden’s movies tend to attract tamer fans, and they’re not as riled up as Brad’s are.
I saw tweets and Facebook posts about Eden and I was stunned to see how hateful they were.
Eden Goodnight’s a cunt. Brad deserves better.
Someone should stomp her ass into the ground. Wish it was me.
Just a two-bit no-talent actress who tried to ride coattails. Go to hell, bitch.
Jesus, these people were brutal. All women, who apparently feel they have some masterful connection to the prick, but whatever. If Eden was reading this stuff, no wonder she’s here in Newberry hiding.
The thing that disturbed me the most was speculation by the press as to where Eden was hiding. They’re focusing on the fact that Eden is supposed to be filming a new movie with Brad in a little over four weeks from now, and people are going crazy wondering how that’s going to play out.
Running my hand through my hair, I stare at the computer screen and thank God above that I’m just a simple man in a small town living a quiet life. I don’t know how she puts up with that stuff.
The sound of a car pulling up to the front of my house catches my attention. I exit out of my browser and pull up my project specs just as I hear the front door open. The kitchen sits at the back of the house, so unless Eden walks back here, she won’t see me. She’ll know I’m here because my truck is out front, but I wait to see where she goes.
The clack of her shoes on the wood floors tells me she’s wearing hard-soled heels, and the sound gets closer, so I brace for her to come into the kitchen. I turn my head just as she steps through the doorway.
“What are you doing here?” she asks softly as she folds her arms over her chest and leans against the door jamb.
I’m not about to tell her I came back to steal my room, so I just shrug. “It’s a Friday and not much going on. Just doing some computer work, and I can do it just as easy here as I can at the office.”
Eden nods and then stares at me pointedly. Finally, she says, “I’m sorry about your father. I just heard today that he died.”
It doesn’t happen every time I think of my dad, but it happens often enough. The soft sympathy and concern in Eden’s voice causes it to happen now: a vicious twisting of my heart and a yearning for my father.
We were as close as a parent and child could be, as he raised me on his own after my mother died in childbirth. Outside of the four years I’d gone to college, we worked together in the family business. Not a day went by that I didn’t at least talk to him on the phone if I didn’t see him. His death and the heroics that caused it are a pain that slices deep into me. I’m proud of him, yet angry at the same time.
I’m also angry at Eden for acting like this is news to her when I know it’s not. I know for a fact that she’d heard about my father’s death. I hadn’t really expected her to come to the funeral, but I expected at least an acknowledgment. Instead, there was nothing but silence.
But that’s old news, and it shed light on the type of person Eden had become after finding fame and fortune. Nothing to do but accept that’s the way she is.
“Thank you,” I manage to say after I clear my throat, but I don’t offer to extend the conversation. I sure as hell don’t want to talk about it further.
Eden watches me carefully, and when I don’t engage her, she sighs and turns from the kitchen. I hear her walk down the hall and start to climb the staircase.
I brace for her reaction and figure it’s coming in three, two, one…
“Cooper Dean Mayfield, you piece of shit,” she shrieks as she hits the top landing and sees her clothing spread out over the floor. I actually snicker to myself as I push up out of my chair. I can’t help it, but it’s funny to me that we’re behaving like petulant children, and for some weird reason…I’m kind of relishing it. Maybe it’s the catharsis I needed that I never got once Eden left.
She’s utterly quiet as I trudge up the stairs, and I’m surprised she’s not still cursing me. I step over the piles of her clothing, bending over to pick up a lacy blue thong lying all by its lonesome, and rub it between my fingers as I walk into my bedroom. Figured that will really piss her off, me fondling her underwear.
Instead when I walk in, the smug smile slides right off my face and I drop her panties to the floor, completely erasing them from my mind. Anger washes through me as I watch her grab an armload of my clothes from the closet, walk over to the window she must have immediately opened as soon as she cursed at me, and dump my clothes right out the window. This unfortunately is the window of the circular room that faces the front of the house, and I imagine my clothes are scattered all over the holly bushes that border the front porch.
“What the fuck?” I yell at her, but she turns and runs back to the closet. Grabs another armload and runs them to the window. I’m so stunned into inaction I can only watch with my mouth open.
My clothes go flying out the window.
Finally, I jolt and stomp over to her. Taking her by the arm, I stop her progress as she runs back to my closet. “Are you goddamned crazy?”