Cause Of Unhappiness

The thought of seeing Neil put me on edge. It was an odd emotion that I had failed to comprehend. When I saw him in the Cecil Hotel for the first time in seven years, immense confusion and paranoia ran through me. That paranoia had only settled, anchored, and strengthened after my solitude. My mind was troubled, unable to grasp what I truly wanted to do with him. The man from before was no longer a distant memory that existed only for the purpose of reminiscence. He had become real. And it was in the realness I was frightened. When he stood before me, he possessed the familiarity and closeness from the past while being a stranger who had strayed away long ago. I was upset by the realization that the vengeance I so desperately sought had fizzled into the desire for a truce.

I knew I had to see him. However, it was more of an obligation than will. I had to hear his truth from him. 

The light in Neil's eyes dimmed when he saw it was me who knocked on his hotel door.

"Good day," he greeted me politely. "I was just thinking when you'd come."

I didn't bother to point out his lie. Stepping aside, he gestured me to come inside. Being in the same room with him made me uneasy, though he didn't need to know that.

Next to the fireplace, Neil and I sat facing each other. The memory of Christmas in Chicago reemerged. He and I sat in front of the warm, fuzzy fire, talking and dreaming about the never future that never came true. Then, there was him, babbling and giggling.

There was no more him and no more fireplace in Chicago.

"I think we should be honest with each other," I straightened my back, "for once."

He narrowed his eyes in amusement.

"I'd like to hear it from you," I swallowed. I was disappointed in myself for showing a sense of insecurity in front of him. "Tell me, Neil, how did you come to know Victoria?"

"Why does that matter to you?" He smirked as he crossed his legs and leaned back in his armchair.

I was quiet.

"That's what I thought," his elbow was on the armrest, and he propped his temple with his fingers. "How Victoria and I meet serves no significance to you. All you'd like to know is how you got involved, correct?"

I clasped my hands and rested them on my lap as my heart began to pound.

"It's a pretty simple story," he continued in the same detached tone, though I knew he cared greatly. "Thomas was interested in Wesley Lee and planned to coax him into the Murphy family. Wesley was very well connected, as you know, and wasn't happy with the Chang clan. The timing was right. But you see, the Lebedev family also had an eye on him. It was only natural for Victoria to ask me to see what Wesley was like."

"It wasn't by chance that you met me, was it?" I scoffed and took out a cigarette.

"No," he shook his head. Leaning forward, he stopped me from lighting my smoke and lit it for me instead. "Weknew you had a close tie to Wesley. Thomas wanted both of you. Wesley was hard to get to, but you, dear, all I had to do was wait for a good opportunity."

"How did you know I'd be in Santa Monica that day?" I asked coldly.

"I didn't," he shrugged. "It was a fun, little coincidence. I planned to see you regardless, though running into you on the pier saved me some time in making up a believable excuse for going to the Red Lantern House."

Puffing my cigarette, I found my hand quivering.

"Why did you marry me?"

"Well," he returned to his previous posture, "Mikhail Lebedev didn't want his daughter to marry some penniless scholar. She listened to her father as a good daughter would. Being young and heedless, I wanted to cause her pain."

"Is that all I was to you?" I thought hearing the truth wouldn't cause me agony anymore after this long. I was wrong. The old scar felt like a fresh wound.

"No, dear," he said gently and deceitfully. He leaned in again and tucked the hair covering my face behind my ear. "I thought I could make it work with you. Unlike how jaded you are nowadays, you used to be precious and obedient."

"How dare you?" I lifted my eyes. The cigarette was slowly burning between my fingers. In the smell of tobacco and hiding behind a trace of smoke, I did all I could to keep my voice down. It'd please him if I were to be irate and show any sign anger. Giving him any sort of satisfaction was the last thing I wanted. "How could you do that to me? I was only eighteen. How could you use and manipulate me like that?"

"Was it any different than what you did? You agreed to leave with me because Wesley couldn't reciprocate your affection," he was unperturbed by my accusation. "And was it any different from what Lawrence did? He wouldn't have agreed to Thomas' arrangement and married Victoria if you didn't turn him down."

He was right. I wished he was wrong. 

"You're the cause of everyone's unhappiness." I blatantly refused to address what he had said.

"That's not true," he said matter-of-factly. "I admit that I might have been the initial cause of your troubles. Nevertheless, your alleged everyone's unhappiness is the consequence of your greed. You had a chance to be good and prosperous with Lawrence. Yet, you didn't because you wanted more. Not to mention what you did to Wesley, whom you claimed to cherish. He could've left the county in 31', couldn't he? You just had to be a good minion of Thomas' and guilt him into staying."

"Enough!" My voice was shaky like my hand was as I dragged my cigarette. I had prayed over and over for God's forgiveness for all the transgressions he listed. Still, I wasn't ready to hear anyone speaking out this directly. It was clear that I wasn't a victim like I had been portraying myself to be. I was equally a perpetrator like him. However, it was oddly liberating. "What happened to my son?"

"Your son?" He laughed deprecatingly. "No, you mean my son. Why are you asking about him now? You want to change the subject because you can't take the weight of facts. You don't care about him, or you would've looked for him. You didn't even want him in the first place. Why does it matter to you now if he's alive or dead?"