Framed

by Amber Lynn Natusch

  “I hope you have something pretty unbelievable to put in that,” said a high-pitched and mildly squeaky voice from behind me. I turned to see a woman around my age with auburn brown hair to her shoulders framing a freckle dotted face.

  “I hadn't thought about that,” I replied honestly. “I was a little too mesmerized to think of how to practically use it.”

  “Well, I hope you do. It's to die for,” she said, admiring the frame I held in front of me. “I'm a little angry you beat me to, to be honest.”

  She smiled a wide, friendly smile to signal her kidding. I'd thought her face was plain when I first turned to see her, but her smile changed everything. It had a joy in it that I'd never seen before in an adult. I'd only ever seen it in children playing—the smile that knows no sorrow, no pain, no evil. I was drawn to her immediately.

  “Well, I'm glad you're a good sport about it. I would hate to have to be hauled out of here by the police!” I said in jest.

  “Ha!” she scoffed, her impossibly wide smile broadening. “I've got a get out of jail free card at home. Bring it on.”

  My new acquaintance and I broke out into roaring laughter under the shelter of the tent, but our voices carried far beyond it for sure. People down the rows stared at us curiously, and the owner of the frame came over and gingerly pried it out of my hand, while politely asking if I was going to be taking it or not. The question did nothing to stifle our belly laughs.

  I was bent over at the waist, clutching my stomach, while she propped herself up against a dresser with an elbow, leaning into her hand for support. As our hysterics slowly died out, I straightened myself up and wiped the tears from my eyes trying to make myself look more presentable. She smoothed her clothing and ran the sleeve of her purple top across her face.

  “This is by far the most random public outburst I've had in a long time,” she said, reaching her hand out towards me. “I'm Kristy.”

  “Ruby,” I said, returning the gesture. “I wish I could second your sentiments, but sadly for me, this is one of many this week alone.”

  “I guess I need to hang out with more people like you then.”

  “I guess so.”

  In the back of my mind, I kept thinking that that was the last thing she needed to do; my public outbursts were not well suited to human audiences. I wanted to turn away saying, “nice to meet you,” and be on my way, but I couldn't. She was sweet and funny, and I could see us doing normal, everyday things together. I craved that so desperately that, even though every fiber of my being said to politely go, I stayed.

  “So where do you live?” I asked casually. “Maybe we can grab lunch some time and I could act out the Ezekiel 25:17 scene from Pulp Fiction? That would be an epic public outburst.”

  “Yep,” she said, pressing her lips together, looking pensive. “That would fit the bill. I live about an hour from here, just outside of Portsmouth.”

  “Really?” I exclaimed, with a little too much enthusiasm. “I live downtown in a three-story walk up. I live above my store.”

  “You own one of those cute shops?” she asked with equally misguided excitement. “Which one?”

  “REWORKED. It's a jewelry—”

  “Are you serious?” she squealed. “My friends and I love that place! You're not the designer, are you?”

  “I'm afraid so.”

  “I adore your work,” she started, only to pull back suddenly. “I'm sounding a bit like a groupie, aren't I?”

  “I'm no expert in the matter, but you may be reaching that stage,” I said in mocking. “If you ask me to sign your chest, I'd say you've crossed the line.”

  “Agreed,” she said, flashing a grin,. “Here's my number. Give me a call whenever you're prepared to deliver on your suggestion.”

  She handed me a grocery receipt with her number scribbled on the back. I accepted the paper with a smile; my inner optimist was beaming. I had flashes of us sitting outside cafe's laughing until we cried, going to movies, and flea marketing until our feet were blistered. I romanticized a relationship we hadn't even formed yet, but the delusion delighted me and I allowed myself to have it. I deserved it.

  We spent hours roaming through the countless rows of vendors, rummaging through junk, finding random scores, and laughing like teenagers—at least how they did in the movies. After five hours had passed, she got a text from her husband asking if he needed to send out a search party for her. She politely excused herself from our day of shenanigans, and I offered to help her load her car. The girl knew how to shop.

  I waved over my shoulder as she drove off in her silver Hyundai sedan, making my way over to the TT. My hands were full of goodies for Peyta; she'd be well stocked for at least a few months, maybe more. Amongst all her treasures was one of my own. I'd purchased the frame with encouragement from my new found enabler, though it made no sense to have done so for several reasons, one of which being that I had no personal photos. Another being that death was looming over me, and even death could only loom for so long.

  I threw my new stash onto the passenger seat and the floor in front of it before firing up the Audi and cranking the iPod. I took my time getting home, stopping for a bite to eat at some mom and pop place along the road and a farmers market a few miles down from that. The TT was at full capacity by the time I cruised into P-town; I on the other hand was not. It was late afternoon and I was completely spent. I dropped off my haul in the workshop before climbing the staircase to the apartment with an armful of veggies, which I quickly deposited in the kitchen before making my way to my room.

  With little energy to spare, I collapsed onto my bed after propping up my new and very empty frame against my dresser. I pulled the crinkled up receipt that Kristy had given me from my pocket and placed it on my nightstand. Briefly admiring my two favorite finds of the day, I quickly nodded off to sleep.

  16

  “Hello?” I groaned, sounding groggy and hungover. I'd sacked out on my bed almost as soon as I'd hit it, and the sound of my phone blaring had ripped me from my slumber.

  “Ruby? It's Matty,” he said, sounding confused and concerned. “Are you okay? You sound like shit!”

  “I was asleep, thank you very much. What do you want?”

  “It's five-thirty,” he replied, his confusion still apparent. “Why are you sleeping? You don't have mono, do you?”

  “Jesus, Matty! No, I don't have mono. I'm tired. What do you want?” I asked, sounding every ounce as frustrated as I felt.

  “You're such a senior citizen,” he replied with a giggle. “Anyway, I was calling because I think we need an impromptu practice to make up for you playing hookie the other night. That main chorus section is still a disaster, and I'd really like to get it cleaned up before our next rehearsal. We wasted so much time last class trying to figure it out. How about me heading up to your place in an hour? We can put that studio of yours to good use...or do you already have plans?”

  “Uh...okay, I guess,” I stammered, still not fully having my wits about me. “I don't have any plans.”

  “Great!” he exclaimed. “See you in a bit.”

  The dial tone kicked in before I even managed to say goodbye.

  He'll do nicely, though he's a little wet behind the ears. It'll be more like a snack than the main course.

  “No! Absolutely not!” I yelled, horrified by the idea.

  Promises...

  “You'll get your pound of flesh, Scarlet, but Matty is not on the menu. Not now, not ever.”

  You don't get to make the rules, Ruby.

  “I sure as hell do. I can make your life just as miserable as you can make mine,” I blustered. “Don't fuck with me on this one or so help me I will get creative on your ass.”

  You know how I dislike threats.

  “Ditto.”

  Then present a more appealing offer and maybe I'll take it.

  “When a better offer presents itself, I will.”

  I no sooner had the words out when my cell phone chirped alerting me
to the text message it had just received. I picked it up and looked to see who it was and instantly regretted it.

  Mmmmm, that one fits the bill nicely.

  “You don't even like him,” I said in rebuttal.

  True, but, luckily for me, liking someone is not a prerequisite for fucking them.

  “Sean is off limits too.”

  No Cooper, no Sean, no Matty...your male menagerie is exhausted. Would you like to fuck a stranger in a back alley instead?

  I shuddered at the thought.

  I didn't think so. Make your choice, Ruby, and make it quickly before I make it for you. Tick-tock...

  * * *

  Once the most-annoying-sound-in-the-world, otherwise known as my doorbell, alerted me of his arrival, I met Matty downstairs and let him in. He'd never been inside my place before, so I gave him the dime tour of the apartment before heading up to the third story studio. Converting that space into a loft of mirrors and hardwood was the best decision I'd ever made.

  “We should warm up first,” he called as I walked over to the sweet stereo set up I had. Everything was high end from top to bottom, and I smiled when I looked at it; I always did.

  “Yep, just getting some tunes cued up first.”

  He stripped down to a t-shirt and shorts as I walked back to the center of the room. I stared at him in the mirror as he peeled off his layers. Scarlet growled.

  “Not this one,” I whispered under my breath. He turned and looked at me strangely.

  “Did you just say something?” he asked, looking slightly confused.

  “No. Maybe the floor creaked.”

  He shrugged it off and started his stretching routine as I did mine. I continued to sneak glances at him during our warm-up as his muscles flexed and bulged. I forced my eyes closed at several points to make the desire to tear his shirt off subside.

  “Do you have a headache?” he asked. I realized I'd had my eyes shut for the better part of the last song that played.

  “Uh, no. I just really like that song,” I said, trying to play it cool. “I was just doing a little choreography in my head. Sorry.”

  “See anything you want to try out?”

  I sure do...

  “No, not tonight. You ready to work on the chorus?” I asked, hoping I didn't look as flushed as I felt.

  “Yeah, let's get down to business.”

  Yes. Let's.

  “I'll get the music,” I said, before jumping off the floor with a little too much vigor, and running over to the stereo. “Enough already,” I whispered. “You can have one of the others, but not him, okay?”

  Why limit yourself to just one?

  “Quit it! I'm serious. Promise you'll leave him alone.”

  Fine.

  “Do these windows open?” Matty asked from across the room, fiddling with one of the old, single paned sashes. “It's already getting hot in here.”

  “You have no idea,” I muttered to myself before answering his question over my shoulder. “No, I think they've been painted shut. The only one that does is over the fire escape but that's not enough to cool this place off. I'll go downstairs and turn the thermostat down if you want.”

  “It's fine,” he responded, peeling off his t-shirt to solve his temperature regulation issues. The act exposed a strong but lean physique. I knew I was staring, but I couldn't quite bring myself to close my mouth and look away. “You don't mind, do you?”

  “Nope,” I quipped, walking towards him after the music was cued. “Let's do a walk through first and figure out where the rough patches are.

  “Alone” by Heart came ringing through the speakers. The song met the eighties theme challenge set forth by the company director, and I loved the strength and power of it. The lyrics were bold and driving, her voice melancholy.

  We started off just walking through the choreography with little effort being put forth by either of us. As one of the areas of concern approached, Matty suggested we pick up the pace and go full out. The piece was not my own work, and I still wasn't fully comfortable with its intense and sensual nature. So many of the moves demanded the intertwining of our bodies as well as our emotions that I still hadn't gotten a full grasp on the piece. I didn't know how to fake love, fake wanting, or fake pain, but I was painfully aware of the real thing. Matty pushed me to tap into my experiences to sell the performance, even with just the two of us there.

  As the questionable move came up, Matty coached me through it.

  “You have to throw yourself at me like I'm your lifeline to the world as you know it. Do it!” he yelled over the music that pounded through the speakers.

  I did what he said.

  I ran at him then jumped the last few feet to close the distance between us, clinging to him at the final moment. He in turn finished the move, catching me and elegantly turning me around to place me on the ground in a flash. The slightest timing issue, like we'd been experiencing for the past week, would have ended with both of us crashing to the floor, or me being dropped on my head. I was a fan of neither. That night, however, we managed to pull it off without a hitch on the first try.

  He continued on seamlessly, pushing himself into a plank position above me before slowly lowering his body onto mine over a painstakingly slow eight count. I forgot what I was supposed to be doing as he stared down at me with heat in his eyes. His commitment to the role was distracting.

  His hand rubbed gently down the side of my face.

  I instantly stopped breathing.

  Then he kissed me.

  Not a hard, frantic kiss, meant to buy you time enough to get your clothes off and get down to business, but a soft sweet one, meant to make you forget where you were and what you were doing.

  Who's breaking her own promises now?

  “Oh my God,” I said as my eyes snapped open. “Matty! What are you doing?”

  I pushed his body away from me as I turned to my side, trying inelegantly to get up. He, too, looked in a hurry to escape the awkwardness his advance had created.

  “I'm sorry, Ruby, I...I don't know—”

  “Why would you do that?” I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. 'What were you thinking? Why is it always about sex with you guys?”

  “Hey! Don't lump me in with those assholes you choose to hang around, Ruby,” he spat, sounding angry—maybe jealous. I couldn't make it out at the time, and I just didn't care to.

  “Then don't act like them,” I snipped.

  “I'm sorry, Ruby. I just...I'm trying to...,” he continued, unable to get his thoughts out effectively. “I just wanted you to...”

  “Maybe this was a bad idea,” I said, gesturing between the two of us. “I think I'm all set with practice today.”

  He looked pained as if trying to figure out what could be said to salvage the situation. Seeing that I didn't look especially pardoning, he quickly gave up.

  “I'll go,” he said, heading for his pile of clothes. “I'm sorry, Ruby.”

  I looked away as he put everything he'd taken off back on and packed his backpack. I was overreacting somewhat, but couldn't bring myself to stop. He was supposed to be my friend, someone whose position in my life was established and didn't involve sex or even desire. With one kiss, all of that was ruined.

  He reached the doorway and stopped. With his back still to me, he managed to get out what he'd been trying to say.

  “I may not be as intriguing as Sean or a charity case like Cooper, but I like you, Ruby. I have for a while,” he admitted, softly. “It's frustrating to see how they treat you and how you keep going back for more. You deserve better than that, Ruby, even if better than that isn't me.”

  He walked out without looking back. I heard him pick up speed as he made his way down the stairs. When he started down the second flight, my conscience got the better of me, and I chased after him. He'd made a mistake and done something stupid, but he'd done it out of a sort of desperation—a desperation that the other men in my life had created. He felt small and I knew what
that felt like; I wasn't a fan. I didn't want him to feel even smaller because I took a seemingly innocent gesture and blew it out of proportion. Matty was the kind of guy who wouldn't easily forgive himself for such an affront, especially if I didn't either.

  “Matty!” I called after him, descending the stairs as quickly as possible. The exterior door slammed closed behind him. I flew down the second flight and tore the door open to see him rounding the corner to the alley adjacent to the building.

  “Matty!” I yelled as I ran barefoot down the street after him. I put my hand out and grabbed the corner of the building to steady myself as I turned into the alley. He stood halfway down the lane looking at me. His face was raw with emotion.

  “What, Ruby?” he asked, sounding exhausted.

  “Don't leave like this, please. I overreacted. You just really caught me off guard,” I explained as I walked towards him. “I don't want you to go. We should talk about—”

  The searing pain in my head nearly dropped me where I stood. I'd stopped a few feet away from Matty, but he was by my side in an instant. I knew he was talking to me, but nothing made sense. The visions blocked out all comprehensible senses.

  He stood proudly, looking down an alley. My view was from behind him, and I was unable to see his target de jour. His admiration of his own cleverness clouded everything around him, and I desperately wanted to see what was unfolding that had him so jovial.

  Slowly, he stalked down the narrowing alley as I maintained my vantage point, frozen in place. His body still blocked his victim's identity from me, but with every step he took, he was wild with anticipation. Finally, over his left shoulder, I saw his intended. There were two victims this time, one bent over the other, too engrossed in their own issues to notice their impending deaths.