by Mia Asher
“The ability to impress Carl’s discerning eye isn’t an everyday occurrence. And when it does happen, you don’t want to be the last one to find out—to miss what usually becomes a storm about to rage chaos in the art scene. And what sensual, daring chaos is Mr. Geraghty about to rage on us, his poor unsuspecting victims? I was invited to go inside his studio and take a first look at his work and what I’m sure will be the beginning of an illustrious career. The photographs are thought provoking, sensual to the point of almost being indecent, and every single one of them took my breath away …”
Satisfied, Rachel places the article next to her leg. “You’re going to be a star, Ronan. I can feel it. Look at them, losing their minds over you already.”
I think of the woman who came to the studio that Carl provided and whose presence I forgot all about once I began to photograph the model posing for me, trying to capture her soul with the click of the camera.
“You think?” I ask, hating the uncertainty that tinges my voice.
“Without a doubt.” Rachel leans forward, rubbing her chest against mine invitingly, before placing her mouth on mine and kissing me.
I snake my hands under her silk baby doll, finding her bare, and knead my fingers in the soft flesh of her ass. I start to move her back and forth, lazily grinding her hot, wet cunt against my growing cock.
Rachel ends the kiss with a frustrated groan and buries her face in the crook of my neck. “My God, you drive me crazy. I don’t recognize myself when I’m with you. I want you too much.”
I twist her hair in my hand, tug it back, and make her look at me, absorbing the lovely blush coating the crests of her cheeks. My heart remains silent, but I can’t deny the fact that I like her, that my body hungers for her, and that I can’t get enough of her. I need Rachel to soothe the pain and fill the emptiness threatening to swallow me whole.
“I want you, too. So damn much.”
She bites her bottom lip while a shadow sweeps across her clear blue eyes, muting their color momentarily. I rub that same lip with my thumb, feeling its heat.
“What is it?”
“Tell me about her,” she whispers.
I pause momentarily as Blaire’s memory blinds me and I feel as though I am falling down a deep well where there’s no escape. But I push past it until it’s Rachel and her blonde hair and her body on mine that hold me to this place, to her.
“What would you like to know?”
“Are you still in love with her?”
“Right now,” I grab the edges of the baby doll and pull it up over her ass, revealing her bare pussy to me, her flat stomach, and her perfect tits, “I am not.” When Rachel is completely naked and trembling under my hands, I toss the fabric carelessly on the floor, reach for her hips, and guide her core toward my mouth. “Allow me to show you.”
The article forgotten …
Along with the woman I once loved.
Blaire
THERE’S A KNOCK AT THE DOOR. As I wake up, my eyes growing accustomed to my surroundings, I notice that this is my childhood bedroom. Confused, I push the duvet cover to the side and get out of bed. “Coming,” I say as the banging grows louder. I open the door and find my mother standing in the hall, dressed in the same clothes that she had on the last time we saw each other years ago. It’s like time has stopped moving and she hasn’t aged. She’s still as beautiful as the day I left home.
“Mom? What are you doing here?”
She hands me an envelope without saying a word.
I take it and gaze down at the letters written on the white paper. “What is this?”
“Everything you have left of your father.”
“What do you mean? Where is he?”
My mother spins on her feet and begins to walk away from me as fear clutches its ugly claws in my chest. “Mom! What do you mean? Where is Daddy?”
She stops somewhere down the hallway and turns to look at me, her eyes empty. “He’s gone, Blaire. He’s gone.”
Devastating pain explodes inside me, shattering me from within. The room begins to spin, people, furniture, and various flying objects become a mass of swirling colors.
Then I’m in the arms of a man whose face I can’t see. Every time I try to look at him, my sight becomes blurry and it prevents me from discovering his identity. His gentle touch is familiar, though, and it fills me with a sense of tenderness and love.
The man clasps me tighter to his chest without saying a word. His silence is more comforting than words could ever be. But it’s his presence that means everything and gives me strength to continue breathing.
“My dad is dead,” I whisper brokenly. “And I never got to say good-bye to him.” I press a hand to the ache in my chest and wonder how someone can feel so much pain and be able to live through it, breathe through it.
He presses a kiss on my forehead. “Would you have wanted to?”
“I don’t know … I feel so lost.”
“Go back home, Blaire. Go to him. Go to your mom,” the man urges.
“I can’t. I’m too late.” I try to look at him again, but he begins to disappear as though his body is made of smoke. “No!” I shout hysterically, reaching for him but grasping nothing but air. “Don’t leave me. Stay with me. I n-need you.”
“Go back to them, Blaire. It’s time to heal and to forgive …”
I wake up suddenly, gasping for air as my heart races madly. My sight adjusts to the dark, and I half expect to find myself in my childhood bedroom, but the familiar furniture brings me back to the present. I get out of bed urgently and walk to the door, dreading who I’ll find on the other side.
Nothing but my empty living room.
Relieved, I turn the lights on and go to the kitchen to pour myself something to drink. As I gulp the water down, images of my parents, of the man whose face I couldn’t see, continue to flash in my eyes. Their voices grow louder and louder. I place the glass on the counter and cover my ears to tune them out, except it’s no use. They shout like every fiber in my body is to go to them and set things right between us. It’s the last thing that I thought I’d ever want but, in a startlingly lucid instant, it becomes as essential to me as my next breath. Suddenly gripped by a choking fear the dream might be true, I decide to go in search of answers back to where it all started.
But not before I take care of a few things here …
“Thank you so much for coming. You have no idea how much it means to me.”
“Don’t mention it.” Elly wraps an arm around my shoulders as we stand in front of Lawrence’s building. There was a time when I would have flinched from the close contact, but that was a lifetime ago. And today I need her and the quiet strength that she offers me in her one embrace more than ever.
“Do you feel better now?”
I think of what just happened, and my heart breaks all over again. “I don’t, but at least he has his money back. I don’t want it.”
“His assistant was nice to you.”
When we got to Lawrence’s office, I expected to be removed from the premises immediately. Instead, Gina welcomed us and asked if there was anything she could help me with. I wanted to beg her to let me see Lawrence but I knew it was out of the question, so I’d handed her an envelope with a check for all the money he ever gave me and told her to tell Lawrence that it belonged to him.
“Thank you for everything that you’ve done for me, Gina. I really appreciate it. I know this is out of line, but can I ask you for one last favor?”
She hesitated. “Sure.”
“Could you please tell him that I meant everything I said? He’ll know what that means.”
“He was there, Elly. I could feel him in the other room. I wish I could’ve seen him. Maybe … maybe this time he would have let me explain.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, at least not now. It’s only been a couple of days. Maybe later …”
I stare dully at the cars parked by the curb in front of us. “I hurt him badly, Elly.”
I’m aware that I did the right thing by ending our relationship, but the knowledge hasn’t diminished the pain one bit. If anything, the pain has gotten worse. Now that I’ve had time to look back and think about each and every moment that led to our good-bye, I can see that I have no one other than myself to blame. I was selfish and capricious. I took the blessed oblivion that Lawrence offered and soaked it in. I used him to forget and never stopped to think about his feelings. I believed him when he said that he only wanted my body, but refused to believe what his touch, his kisses, and the way he looked at me tried to convey.
I chose to ignore it all because it was safe and comforting.
And now look at the mess I’ve created.
“Well, Blaire, I would love to say that I told you so, but I’m pretty sure you already know that, so I won’t go there. And as much as I hate that I’m about to sound like a motivational Pinterest quote, I think all you can do now is try and learn from your mistakes.”
I feel a tap on my shoulder as I’m about to reply. Glancing back, my eyes widen when I take in the form of the person standing in front of me.
“Jackie?”
She crosses her arms across her chest. “So it’s you, huh?”
“Excuse me?” I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play stupid with me, Blaire. I’m not Ronan or Lawrence. I won’t fall for your innocent act.”
“Hey! Watch it,” Elly interrupts, ready to pounce.
I place a hand on her arm and silently mouth the words that I got it. Then, I turn to look at Jackie once more.
“I work here.” She nods in the direction of Lawrence’s building. “I thought I saw you leave with Laurie a couple of weeks ago. I told myself that I was imagining things. But here you are, and suddenly everything makes sense.”
“What makes sense?”
“Jesus, is this what they fell for?” She shakes her head. “Please, don’t play innocent with me. It won’t work. Tell me, how does it feel to break the heart of not only one good man but of two? Are you proud of yourself?”
As soon as the words leave her mouth, I’m punched in the face with the realization that Jackie is the same woman who Lawrence loved all those years ago. It all makes sense now. Ollie. Bradley. Jackie’s confession in the kitchen about her past. Lawrence’s description of her parents. All the pieces of the puzzle finally come together and it shakes me to the core.
“Jackie … please, if you’ll let me explain—”
“What? What could you possibly explain? I’m sorry but nothing that you do or say will justify in my eyes what you did to my brother. He loved you, Blaire. So much. And then you left him, and he hasn’t been the same. I don’t even recognize him. But that wasn’t enough for you, was it?” She looks me up and down. “It never is for women like you. You had to hurt Lau—Lawrence, too.”
Wincing, I raise a staying hand as I try to speak, but the words get stuck in my throat. “I’m sorry. I can’t—”
“You know what, Blaire? In hindsight, I’m glad you’re out of their lives. They’ll be better off without you. Good-bye.”
With her words ringing in my ears, I see Lawrence walk out of the building and meet Jackie by the revolving doors. He places his hand on the small of her back and they begin to walk in our direction. Our eyes meet briefly before he looks away from me and gets in an expensive car that I don’t recognize, driven by a man who isn’t Tony. It’s as though he’s purposefully erased all traces of me from his life.
I watch the car pull away as Elly’s fingers intertwine with mine. “Make him look back at me, Elly. Make him …” my voice wavers. I let go of her hand and seek solace in her arms. “Make him come back.”
“What will you do once you get there?” Elly asks, watching me from her place on the couch. “And would you stop that? You remind me of a caged hyena I once saw at the San Diego Zoo.”
Sighing, I stop pacing the floor of her small living room and stand still. “I guess I’m going to go home and take it from there.” I rub my arms as I gaze down and notice a faint pattern on her carpet from my shoes. “My mom might not even live there anymore.”
“If she doesn’t, what are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure. Ask around, I guess. And if that fails, come back home and get on with life. I need to find a job desperately. By the way, it’s really nice of Alessandro to let me borrow his car.”
Elly’s attention seems to be caught by a stack of magazines lying on her coffee table. I stare at her as she swiftly leans forward, picking them all up in her arms, and heads toward her bedroom. When she comes out, she seems relieved and calm. The magazines are also missing.
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
I frown puzzled by her odd behavior. “What was in those magazines?”
Elly instantly looks away but not before I see the guilt in her eyes. Without giving her a chance to stop me, I walk to her bedroom in search of whatever she’s hiding.
“Blaire, no. Wait!”
After a quick search, I end up finding the magazines hidden under her bed. I sit on the floor cross-legged and start going over the covers as my pulse accelerates, a bad feeling settling in the middle of my chest.
“It’s not worth it,” Elly murmurs sadly.
“What’s not …”
My voice trails off like an unfinished thought as I discover what Elly didn’t want me to see. Quickly as though my life depends on the speed of my fingers, I flip through the pages until I find Ronan’s interview. My eyes consume the words written about him and when I’m done reading the article, I punish myself even further by looking at his pictures, memorizing each one of them. Like the one where he’s with the blonde woman from the party. With an arm around her waist, Ronan is photographed whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh. Her name is Rachel. She’s a socialite. The next photograph is of Ronan’s profile as he stares out of a massive window. He looks more like the man that I knew and fell in love with on a dream-like summer, but it’s just an illusion. My heart’s desire playing me for a fool. He’s gone.
“I didn’t want you to see it. I thought that it would be better if you didn’t.”
“He’s going to make it, Elly. I’m so happy for him.”
“I’m not,” she says gruffly.
Shaking my head, I trace the outline of his lips with trembling fingers. “No, don’t say that. I … I deserve it all. Elly, is there a limit to the pain one can feel?”
“I wish I knew, babe.”
“Jackie’s right. They’re better off without me.” I stare at his picture, the image blurry through my tears. “Anything … I would give anything to “ I press a hand to my chest as though I could stop it from shattering, but it’s no use. I’m breaking into a thousand pieces, and the love I feel for them is the driving force.
“I can’t. It hurts too much, Elly. I can’t.”
LONG AGO, I LEFT THIS PLACE never to return. I buried my heart somewhere in this house, along with its memories. I thought that I could escape from my own past and that it would never catch up to me, that I would always be two steps ahead.
But now I realize that I was a fool to believe that. The ghosts of my past haunt me whenever I look in the mirror. They walk with me. They sleep with me. They rule my every thought and every action. I thought I was free, yet now I see it was just a stupid illusion. I never stopped being the lonely girl who felt unworthy of love, who cried herself to sleep while praying to a deaf God to make her parents love her back. No, I don’t think I ever truly left this house full of regrets and fears.
Chewing my bottom lip, I stare at the white Victorian house where I grew up. At the two perfectly matched flowerpots that border the faded red door and the navy blue shutters framing the windows. I’m not even sure what coming here will accomplish. All I know is that my dream still haunts me and I haven’t been able to shake off the feeling that I need to be here.
Once I ring the doorbell, I fidget nervously, attempting to fix my
clothes one last time. The lights of the porch come immediately on as a woman exclaims that she’s coming.
She opens the door and gasps in surprise as her gaze lands on me. “Blaire?” She opens the door wider. “Is that you?”
“Hello, Mom,” I say, surprised that my voice sounds so calm.
She stares at me silently and I think she’s about to tell me to leave when she steps forward and embraces me in a hug so fierce I can almost feel the air disappearing from my lungs. It freezes me to the spot. I want to return her embrace but a part of me forbids it with rancor, while the other cries for her. So I stand still, unable to move.
After a moment, my mother pushes herself away from me. It seems like she wants to touch me again, but she won’t. Her eyes rove over my face. “I thought I was never going to see you again.”
I bury my hands in the back pockets of my black skinny jeans. “Me too.”
My mom lowers her gaze, focusing on her hands. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, a very long time.” The words hang between us just as the many lives that we have lived without each other. I wonder if she, too, remembers our good-bye as clearly as I do.
“My goodness, I’ve forgotten my manners.” She looks up and smiles sadly at me. “Would you like to come in?”
“I—”
“Please?” she pleads.
When I was fourteen, I developed my first crush. His name was Brendan and he had a penchant for bathing himself in Aqua Di Gio. That year, I loved Aqua Di Gio. Brendan sat in front of me in Spanish class. I would close my eyes, lean in a little closer and breathe in his smell. I would picture us going to the movies. We would hold hands and he would pay for popcorn and soda. He would pretend to stretch his arms just so he could wrap an arm around my shoulders. It was lovely. It was unattainable. Brendan didn’t know I existed. Brendan also had a crush on Paige. Somehow Paige discovered that I liked Brendan, and unbeknownst to me, she got him to ask me out to the movies, just like in my teenage dream. I showed up at the movie theater, heart beating fast. My first date with a boy. Brendan did show up, but he wasn’t alone. He was with Paige. And boy, did they put on a show for me.
