by Idella Breen
“Who is the Morning Star?”
Henry didn’t even look away as he answered. “Morning Star is the meaning of the name Lucifer. It was Satan’s name before he fell from heaven. Isn’t it beautiful?”
I studied the painting. Honestly, I didn’t know what to say. It brought to mind the conversation I had with Kaleb at my show, and it made me realize that I didn’t particularly conform to any religion. Despite the despair and the hardships, my life brought to me; I had never turned to a higher power to fill my heart and grant me hope that many religions do. Instead, I became more independent and if anything, one could say I had turned my back on the stability religion grants. I was alone, and I was okay with that. I didn’t need a god to save me because, in a way, I was already damned.
“Ms. Trust?” I was brought out of my thoughts by Henry touching my shoulder.
“I asked what you thought of the painting, but I can already see you are as in awe of it as I find myself every time I see it. Let us continue then. There is still much to show you.”
I nodded and followed him back to the staircase. Henry continued with his tour, now showing me what happens should a person have turned right at the entrance to the gallery.
“By going right, we are led to this room.”
We entered a room where all the walls were painted earthy tones instead of the whites that most of the gallery was colored in.
“What do you call this room?” I asked as I took in the sculptures of women with butterfly wings, and paintings of what could only be gnomes, along with other fantasy creatures.
“We call this the Earth Room. We have filled this room with art depicting the mythology humans have created throughout time. You can find anything from vampires and werewolves to elves and trolls here. Following this way a person will be led through an empty room, that we are still working on, then to the same staircase that leads up to the Heaven Room or down to the Hell Room.”
I studied the room once more, taking in the butterflies and the lightness it presented compared to the previous two rooms. The other director had excused himself by now, saying something along the lines of needing to attend to certain business. I followed Henry back to the entrance and into the lobby. He made a sweeping motion with his hands as we finished the tour. "So, what do you think Ms. Trust? Does Philo's meet your standards?"
I'm not afraid to admit that I was in complete awe of the place. Naturally, most of the customers were rich people, and one thing all my cubicle jobs taught me was that if you pleased rich people, you get notoriety and money. Money wasn't my main goal but to become well-known in the artist circle, a more exclusive club, was tempting. Honestly, I never had much confidence in my art. Like I told Angela, it was more of a hobby. I was just lucky that I happened to have a talent for it. I never seriously considered pursuing a career in it, until now.
"Most definitely, Henry. This place is amazing. I'm honored you believe my art is worthy of decorating the walls and rooms here.”
"Nonsense! You are an amazing artist. One of the best talents in the last five years. As you know, I've had my eyes on your work for some time now, and you have proved time and again to consistently produce quality work."
I could feel the heat of a blush on my cheeks. "You flatter me."
"It's not flattery if it's the truth. So, I take it you're interested then?"
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent, I’ll have Jess tell my lawyer to draw up a contract to have you sign. We would need to schedule a day for both of our lawyers to be present at the signing. Is that acceptable?"
"Yes, sir."
"Perfect! I have your number now. We will be in touch within the next few weeks. I want to begin planning a show for next year as soon as possible."
I nodded as he continued to ramble on as we walked to the exit. I can't believe this was happening.
“I have just one question, though,” I asked as I thought of the empty room.
“Yes, my dear?”
“Where exactly would my art fit in? Most of what I create deals with the realities of life and death, but I explore more of a liberal view of the eternal life of a soul as opposed to its laying to rest in some celestial or demonic eternity.”
He nodded, a smile spreading across his lips. “Yes, indeed. You are correct Ms. Trust. I have big plans for your art. I have been working on a project; you remember the empty room?”
“Oh?”
“I call it, The Eternity Room.”
I nodded. “Yes, I think my art would suit that type of room better.”
He smiled. “I thought you would. Do you have any other concerns?”
I shook my head.
“Good! I will walk you out then.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Nonsense! I was raised a certain way, Ms. Trust. Let this old man continue with the chivalry I have had beaten into me since boyhood.”
I smiled. “Okay.”
He winked before leading me to the exit. Henry opened the door for me, and I moved passed him only to collide with something solid. Strong arms wrapped around me, preventing me from falling, and steadied me before letting go.
“We meet again!" A good-humored voice said.
I looked up and met the sky-blue eyes of Gabriel. "Gabe?"
He laughed. "The one and only."
“Have you met Gabe?” Henry asked.
"I've already had the pleasure of meeting Eliza." Gabriel grinned.
Henry smiled. "Is that so? Small world I suppose."
"I guess." I murmured as I fixed my jacket that had bunched up from the almost fall.
Henry continued. “Gabriel Johnson, the Third, is one of our gracious patrons."
"A patron?" I asked as a sinking feeling filled my gut.
"Henry, you're embarrassing me," Gabriel responded good-naturedly as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his black slacks.
"Nonsense. It's because of your support that Philo’s has prospered in the last five years."
Gabriel shrugged. “I do what I can."
He turned back to me. "Why are you here, Eliza?”
Henry cut in before I could even open my mouth. “Ms. Trust is one of our new artists. It's not official yet, but I have big plans for her."
“Is that so?" He smiled attempting to show off his boyish charm.
"Yeah." This was not looking good for me.
"What a coincidence." He chuckled.
"I guess," I said.
"Maybe we could get together over a drink sometime and talk about art. I still owe you a coffee, don't I?"
"Don't worry about it." I frowned.
The double doors swung open, and a woman in a pencil skirt popped her head out. “Mr. Smead? You’ve got a call from a client on line two.”
Henry grinned, “Oh yes. I was expecting them to call soon." He grabbed my hand and shook it excitedly.
"We'll be in touch Ms. Trust. Keep painting. If all goes well, in a year's time, you'll be the talk of Seattle."
“Thank you, Henry." I pulled my hand back.
"Good day, Gabe. Why don't you walk Ms. Trust to her car and fill her in on how the gallery works?" He winked.
"That's not necessary –"
“That’s a great idea," Gabriel said, and before I could say anything else, Henry was gone, and I was left alone with Gabriel.
"Great." I murmured under my breath.
"Should we go?"
"You really don't need to."
"I want to."
“Fine!” I said exasperatedly, because apparently, nobody cared about what I wanted.
I started walking towards the bus stop. I just hoped that once he realized that I didn't have a car, he wouldn't try to drive me home. The last thing I wanted to do was fuck up this opportunity by pissing off one of the galleries patrons. He followed behind me in silence for a few moments before my arm was suddenly grabbed and I was forced to face him.
"Are you just going to ignore me?"
"That was
the plan," I yelled as my gut clenched in irrational fear.
Gabriel frowned. "I think we got off on the wrong foot Eliza. I don't know what I did to offend you but can we start over again?"
"Let go," I said between gritted teeth.
His features lit with surprise, and he immediately dropped my arm. I didn't let it show, but my heart was pounding in my chest as images of the last time a man grabbed that same arm filled my mind. I couldn't help the glare I directed at him for making me remember that morning and the events that took place on my way home from work. I took a deep breath. He didn't know. I really shouldn’t hold it against him; plus it would only benefit me to play nice with the rich boy. I knew Henry was in love with my art, but I haven't signed a contract yet, and I'm pretty sure he's more in love with the rich patron that's keeping his gallery open. Artists were a dime a dozen; patrons were gold.
Once again, I straightened my leather jacket. I knew it was a mistake when Gabriel's eyes suddenly widened before turning hard. He reached forward and roughly pulled back the collar of my jacket.
“Hey!” I pushed him away.
"What happened to your neck?”
“That’s none of your damn business!”
He grabbed my arm again, gripping it almost painfully tight. "I asked you what happened to your neck?"
"Let me go! Or I’ll scream!"
"Tell me what happened to your neck." His voice rose with each word and his grip on my arm tightened.
"You're hurting me!" I tried to pull my arm free, but his grip was iron.
"Just tell me what –"
A soft voice interrupted whatever he was going to say. "Let her go, Gabriel.”
He dropped my arm immediately. My heart fluttered in my chest when the woman spoke again, but this time, there was a dangerous edge to her voice as well as a definite command. "I think you should go into the gallery. I'll take Ms. Trust home."
I still hadn't turned around. I think I was afraid that if I turned around, she might disappear again.
“This doesn’t concern you, soul stealer."
"I can always demand another representative from your side. Despite what you may think you aren’t entitled to the position.” Came the soft reply.
Gabriel sneered. “My father will hear of this; I guarantee it.”
“Understood, he will also hear from me how rough his son was with Ms. Trust, and if there are any marks, I promise you that there will be severe punishment.”
I watched as his face both darkened even as it paled. Then he turned around and stormed off like a petulant child. A soft hand settled on my own, and I was gently pulled away from the bus stop and towards the parking lot. Finally, I was forced to turn to my savior, but she was facing away from me, so all I was able to see was her platinum blonde hair that fell like a waterfall down to the middle of her back. It was so light it almost looked white, but it shone like gold when the light from the sun hit it just right.
We paused in front of a black Camaro. “Get in.” Her voice was so soft; it was like the whisper of the wind.
I climbed in without complaint and immediately turned to inspect her features when she settled down in the driver's seat. My imagination couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing. She started the engine as I studied her profile. She was beautiful in a sinful way. Her narrow nose sloped down to pink lips. The top lip was thinner than the bottom which she was nibbling between her teeth. Her face broke from high cheekbones down into a strong jaw that slanted down to a long pale neck. Looking back up, I gasped, as I met the gunmetal gray eyes that had haunted my dreams.
“June,” I whispered.
Her brows bunched adorably before she turned back to the road. I was breathing in greedy lungfuls of the burnt cinnamon scented air, which filled the car like a perfume when she spoke again. It was so quiet that I almost missed it.
"Are you okay, Eliza?"
“June, what’s going on?" I asked.
Her brows bunched again, and her features contorted in obvious pain before she turned back to the road. We sat in silence, and I turned my gaze to look out at the scenery whipping by us. She obviously didn't care about the speed limit. I sighed.
"What are you thinking about?" She asked.
"I don't know. I guess I'm just really confused and really pissed that I'm so fucking unlucky."
“It’s not your fault."
Anger spiked so hotly in my chest that I couldn't stop myself. Everything just spilled out as if I had no control over my mouth.
“What the fuck do you know, June? Nothing! You don’t know one damn thing about me. No one does. I'm just not meant to be happy. God must hate me. I must be cursed. Everyone I've ever loved has died on me! Whenever something good starts to happen in my life, some higher power swoops down and says, Fuck you, before pulling the rug out from under my feet."
I was yelling and screaming, fat hot tears were streaming down my face, but I just couldn't stop. It was like the dam had finally burst. I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't suffer in silence.
"And you know what? I honestly really wanted to do the gallery thing. It would've been a dream come true, a dream I had never let myself have before because I knew that if I lost the one thing that has kept me sane all these years, I might finally break. I just didn't think I could handle that. I can't handle it. Look at me! Just fucking look at me! Why am I even alive? Is it my purpose in life to be shit on again and again? Why me? What the fuck did I ever do to anyone to deserve this life?”
I finally stopped, panting, gripping my hands into fists. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears, and I almost didn’t hear the quietly spoken words.
“What?” I asked.
June parked the car and turned off the engine before turning to face me. She reached across the console, and hesitantly grabbed my fists, gently coaxing them to loosen and rest in her hands. When her eyes met mine, I was surprised by the depth of pain and self-loathing reflected in them. Then she spoke and my breath caught in my throat.
"Eliza, you didn't do anything. Believe me when I tell you that none of this is your fault. If it's anyone's fault, then blame it on me. Take all your anger, and pain out on me, because nothing you do to me could hurt more than what I’ve done to you time and time again. Hate me, but please, I beg you, don't hate yourself. You are truly a beautiful soul that doesn’t deserve the fate on your shoulders. But I can’t stop it. It's too powerful. I've tried and have failed again and again, and I’m resigned to it because I don't know what else I can do. So please, Eliza, hate me, despise me, take all your pain out on me, because that is all I can offer you."
I had gained control over my breathing as I listen to June's words, but by the end, I felt another dam burst inside of me, and I lunged across the console dragging the surprised women into a bone crushing hug.
I held her for all I was worth, because while she was speaking, I had once again been filled with a sense of déjà vu, that was quickly filled by a deeply rooted anguish from within that burst at the completely defeated looked she gave me. I cried even as I remembered the strange dream I had last night and I imagined that the look she was giving me now must have been the look she would have been giving my dream self. She looked so lost.
I smothered my tears into her shoulder for what felt like hours. I could feel her holding me just as tightly and cooing softly in my ears, telling me over and over that it wasn't my fault, and apologizing repeatedly. I slowly calmed down and released my death grip from around her neck. When I pulled back, she was smiling sadly. Embarrassed, I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked around as I felt the heat of a blush staining my cheeks. Looking out the passenger window, I realized we were parked in the lot behind my apartment building.
"I'm home."
"Yeah."
I turned back to her. “Will you come up with me?” I asked nervously.
She nodded. "If you need me to."
"I do."
"Then I'll come up for a while.”
“Thank you."
“Don’t thank me Eliza. Please, don't ever thank me for offering you whatever small comforts I can."
I shook my head and gripped her hand tightly.
"Thank you, June. I feel like those are words I have told you many times and I don't plan on stopping now."
A pained look crossed her features, but she quickly hid it behind a small smile. "If that offers you a comfort than do so for your own benefit but I am unworthy of your thanks.”
"Then I'll keep saying it until the day you accept my words for what they truly are."
"And what is that?"
"An olive branch."
Shock lit up her subtle features, and I gripped her hands tighter and smiled.
Chapter 6
"Oh, do you want your jacket back?" I asked as I shut the door to my apartment behind us. June glanced at me, a small smile on her lips.
"Keep it."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded. "It looks good on you."
I blushed. "Thanks. It's grown on me."
I followed her into my living room and took a seat on the couch while June sat in the chair across from me. The sense of déjà vu flashed through me as I remembered how we were sitting like this only little over a month ago.
"June –"
"Eliza –"
We called out at the same time.
"You go first –"
“Go ahead –"
I paused. June smiled. "I'm sure you've been dying to ask me some questions since our last meeting. So, you go first."
I nodded. "Okay, where did your mask go?"
She had the audacity to laugh at me.
"It's a legitimate question!"
"I know, it's just that out of all that you could have asked me you chose to start there. You always start there. It's comforting.”
I frowned at her comment but filed the questions it brought forth away for later.
"I guess to answer your asked question; my mask is inside me. It's as much a part of my body as my skin is, but that's not what you really wanted to ask? What you really want to know is what I am, but you're too polite to ask that question point blank.”
