by Jez Strider
“I’m not sure I would want to go out with you if you were wearing your own tooth. You were brave, though.”
“I’m glad one of us thinks so. I am relieved beyond belief now.” I didn’t speak much more, the replacement gauze I’d placed in my mouth was angled in such a way that I couldn’t speak clearly at all during the rest of the drive.
We parked at the tall building and I led the way to the front door of my one room apartment after we exited the elevator. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Gavyn was behind me, carrying the bag from the pharmacy. He kicked off his shoes without being told and walked over to the small kitchen to set the bag on the counter. Exhausted, I fluffed a couple of the pillows on my futon to prop my body up and stretched out.
“Your art…,” He said, moving around the perimeter.
Nearly every inch of the walls were covered with artwork. Not just hanging paintings either. I’d painted all over the white washed walls so that they now were decorated in a variety of pictures and colors. I figured landlords never gave back the deposit anyway. There were also other paintings on canvas, paper, and even wood. Some were for art shows and sales, others my own pieces to keep.
“Mm, a shocking amount, I know.” I could speak clearly again, having discarded the gauze since the bleeding had stopped.
“No, I mean, yeah, but it’s so good.” He paused at an abstract I’d done. “I have no freaking clue what this is, but it evokes emotions and I kind of see a brontosaurus.”
“I don’t even know what I painted, but I don’t think my inner thoughts spilled out onto paper as a dinosaur. Besides, it’s not called a brontosaurus anymore.”
Gavyn turned to me, a look of anguish on his face. “They changed the name? How stupid.” He shook his head. “So which paintings can I choose from for my payment?”
“You can have any one that you want. What good is art if I keep it to myself?” I blinked a few times, eyes growing heavy.
“I’ll have to think about it. I do like this one of the vampire woman. She’s hot. She looks like you in an emo, bloodsucker kind of way.” He continued talking, but no matter how hard I tried to listen and respond, I found myself drifting off to sleep.
Chapter 4
“Wake up, Farrah.”
I groaned a little in protest and swallowed a few times. A foul taste of saliva and blood lingered. “Oh… you’re still here. I guess I crashed on you.”
Gavyn smiled and went into the kitchen which was visible from my seat on the couch in the small apartment. He returned with a glass of apple juice and my dinner. There was a large bowl of heavily buttered mashed potatoes. They weren’t white, but had taken on a yellowish hue. For dessert, there was a chocolate Snack Pack. When I didn’t move or speak, he did.
“I bought a few things at the pharmacy. Good thing, too. Your kitchen is empty except for three boxes of cereal and a gallon of milk.” He smiled. “Eat. It’s all soft.” Next, he extended his hand, offering me something.
I held out my hand, palm up, and he placed a couple of pills in it. Antibiotics and ibuprofen. “I’m not sure if you’re the sweetest guy on earth or some kind of serial killer.” I picked up the apple juice and washed down the medicine.
“From the food you have here, I’m guessing you’re the cereal killer. Although, I will admit that I’m not quite myself today.” He sat down beside me and watched as I scooped some instant mashed potatoes onto the spoon. “What began as a simple introduction has led us here. I don’t get it either. I just want to help you feel better.”
I found myself smiling at him then took another bite. “Thanks.” I gestured with the empty spoon. “I generally keep to myself as you can see by looking around the apartment. I feel a million times better already because of your charity.”
“Good, but it wasn’t charity. I’m helping out a new friend.”
“These potatoes are awesome. Did you put half the tub of margarine in them? I’m going to gain ten pounds from one bowl.” I started to laugh, but cut it short. My jaw didn’t like the stretching.
“Close to it.” He checked his watch.
“Do you need to go?” I asked. I was surprised at how regretful the thought made me feel.
He adjusted his glasses and leaned back. “Soon. My weekends are busy and I work at the fire department Sunday through Wednesday nights.”
I raised a brow. I hadn’t pegged him for a fireman. Of course, the only ones I’d seen were on TV or calendars. They were always sweaty and buff. I looked Gavyn over a little more closely and wondered how fit he was underneath the bulky hoodie.
“What?” He asked.
“Nothing. That’s a dangerous job.”
“It pays pretty well and I can work the shifts the other guys don’t want to so I can get the last few credits I need in college.” Gavyn shrugged slightly.
I finished off about half of my potatoes and moved onto the pudding pack. The top peeled off easily and I licked the excess from the tin foil with my slightly numb tongue. “What’s your major?”
“Business. I have a few core courses that I had been putting off.”
“So, you’re an attractive Brit with a penchant for dousing flames, calculating expenses, and helping out girls with toothaches. Not too shabby.” I grinned.
“Ah, so you caught the accent? Occasionally people say they don’t even hear it. I lived in England until I was fourteen and then we relocated here. My mum is American and she wanted to move back home.”
“I’m glad she did.” I glanced away, trying to sound casual as I began to eat my pudding. “Did you decide which painting you wanted?”
“I was kidding about that. You don’t owe me anything.”
“I want you to have one. Really.”
He glanced at his watch again. “I’ll take the abstract one. It’s growing on me and I’m not sure I can live without it now.” Gavyn had a strange, quirky smile and I wondered if he was talking about the painting or me. I scolded myself for jumping to conclusions.
“Yeah. Art is strange like that.”
“I wish I could stay.” He stood and stretched, cracking his lower back. “May I have your phone number? It’ll be a while until we have class together again.”
“My cell is in my purse.”
Gavyn brought my bag to me and we exchanged texts to log the numbers. I owned a cheap prepaid since I didn’t talk or text often.
“Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
I nodded. “I’ll be fine, but thank you.”
And then he did the unexpected. I’m sitting there with a tangled mess of hair in dire need of a new dye job, chocolate pudding smeared across my top lip, and missing a tooth, and he still leans down and gives me a peck on my cheek. This guy with his good looks and kind gestures kissed me. It was so natural, like a husband coming home and greeting his wife after a hard day’s work. It was as if we weren’t strangers, but longtime lovers.
“Gavyn?” I turned around on the sofa as he paused at the door to put on his shoes. “Umm… drive safe.”
Hmm, one of those moments I wished I’d prepared something better to say ahead of time.
“I will.” He smiled and gave me a wave before opening the front door, locking it, and shutting it behind him. I heard him twist the knob to make sure it was secure.
“Wow.” I said softly to myself as I faced forward and sunk back down into the sofa. My hand was resting on the cheek he’d kissed.
Chapter 5
The next day at work, I felt almost one hundred percent back to my normal self. Health wise. Mentally, I couldn’t get my shit together. Either I was checking my phone for a message from Gavyn or I was staring off into space.
“Do you think you can do that?” The customer asked as she pointed at a drawing of several orange and black butterflies in a row. I didn’t know if the monarch butterfly meant anything special to her or if she just liked orange. I didn’t ask. That was her business.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sure,” I answered and gave a reassur
ing nod. The design was simple and the tattoo wouldn’t take long unless she was one of the whiny squirmers. “Just take off your shoe, hop on the table, and I’ll get started.”
It would have been easy to freehand the design, but that makes some people nervous. Instead, I used the thermal-fax to transfer the design onto the paper and sat down on a stool. I rolled in my seat across the tile to the foot of the chair the customer was sitting in. She was wringing her hands together, much the same way I had done on my way to the dentist.
“This is going to hurt, right?” She asked.
“The first minute is the worst. After that, you’ll get used to it and it won’t be that bad. Point of no return, though. Tell me if you’ve changed your mind,” I said as I moistened her skin so that I could apply the design for me to trace. It certainly didn’t count as real art when using this method.
She drew in several deep breaths and I frowned. I wasn’t in the mood for this. “Give me a few more minutes.”
“Look, I’m a big wuss and I have several tattoos. Maybe this isn’t for you.”
“I’ll do it. Can’t be any worse than childbirth, right?”
“I wouldn’t know, but I don’t think it could compare from what I’ve heard.” I laughed and she cracked a smile.
My burly boss watched from behind the counter. His hateful glare burned into my back when I turned away. The man didn’t like me because most people came into the shop requesting my services instead of his. I had a bit of a reputation for doing high quality ink. He wouldn’t fire me, though, because I made him profits. My measly check had stayed the same from day one.
I ignored him and focused on the task at hand. The design transferred easily and I began my line work. The woman drew in sharp hisses of air, but remained relatively still as I did the outline first. When I finished with that, I changed colors and began filling in the orange areas of the butterfly wings. The entire process went flawlessly, ending with the customer having three small butterflies on her left foot.
“All done. You did great.” I grinned as she leaned up and examined the handy work.
“It’ll look better than that when it heals up?”
“Mmhmm. I’ll send some material with you explaining care. Looks good.”
She thanked me, slipped me a tip, and paid my boss while I cleaned up the tools I had used. The vibration of my phone caught me off guard and I headed to the employee restroom in the back. It was the only bastion of privacy in the place. I shut the door behind me and pressed the button to lock it.
You’re not this kind of girl, Farrah. Don’t forget your independence again.
I completely lost my train of thought when I checked the phone and saw a text from Gavyn. I could have squealed… if I was that type. In the mirror, my reflection was grinning from ear to ear back at me. It was the goofiest expression, and yet, I looked pretty damn happy. Happier than I’d been in long time. I read the text again and responded.
Gavyn: Miss you. Stopped by your apartment. Hope you’re well.
Me: @work. I feel better. Maybe we can get together soon?
Gavyn: Before my shift early in the week?
Me: I have morning classes and work in the evening. I’m free all day Thursday.
Gavyn: Me too. It’s a date. I’ll pick you up at seven.
Me: Great! See you then.
I squealed. So maybe I was the type. Then I began to overanalyze the first text, thinking that he meant to say that he missed me at the apartment instead of that he was missing me. It was a downer thought, but at least I had a date.
Chapter 6
In my sculpting class on Wednesday, I’d finally put the finishing touches on a bust of myself. It was one of the more difficult assignments I’d ever done because I overemphasized features that I found negative. The instructor graded the final product high and I learned some truth about my perceptions of myself.
I had this large creation in my arms when I left the building and began the walk home. More than a few students stared at me. Either way I carried the damn thing I looked stupid. Facing outward, it was obvious that the sculpture was of me. If I turned it around, the statue appeared to be motorboating my breasts. I opted for narcissist and faced the sculpture outward instead of running the risk of looking like a chick making niche porno.
I’d made it to the edge of campus when I heard a familiar voice call my name. It had been months since I’d heard from Brody York and he should have been hundreds of miles away. Yet, here he was in Miami invading my personal space. I wanted to bury my head in the sand. If I’d have been closer to the beach, I would have tried.
Picking up my pace, I pretended I didn’t hear him call my name. When he yelled a second and third time, I stopped. Half the campus could probably hear. I spun on my heels, clinging to the sculpture and glared in the direction the voice came from.
“I travelled all night. The least you could do is say hello.” Brody looked me over and disapproval flashed in his eyes. He was the same preppy rich boy in his designer polo shirt and slacks. Blonde hair. Clean cut. Smelled like Heaven.
I inhaled the scent of his cologne. Even though I had stop loving him, that smell almost sent me head over heels again. “What are you doing here?”
“I graduated and began working at father’s law firm or I would have come for you sooner. Unfortunately, it appears you are still going through this phase.” He gestured at me from head to toe. “Let’s return home and I’ll dress you like the privileged woman you are.”
“Brody, I want to be free to do the things I want. Are you ever going to understand this?” I sighed. “Why am I even asking? You won’t ever get it. I don’t want to be a decoration on your arm and drink cocktails with other socialites.”
He extended his arms, offering to carry the sculpture and I conceded. It was slightly heavy for its size and inconvenient to manage with my purse on my arm. He couldn’t have planned showing up in my life again better. He had a knack for catching me in situations where I needed him.
“This is a great piece of work, Farrah.” He walked beside me along the street.
I glanced at him sideways. “Since when do you like my art?”
“That’s harsh. I always have. We come from families with money and that gives us certain obligations. Our only difference is that I accept that and you don’t.”
“I won’t accept it. You’d have me married before the end of the year in an extravagant wedding if you had your way,” I said.
“It would only be one day. I know you don’t like the idea of such a big celebration, but I would be by your side. We’d be okay together.”
He looked at me imploringly with those light hazel eyes and I focused my attention ahead of me. Maybe he had changed a little. He’d never seemed so vulnerable. “I shouldn’t have said yes when you proposed in the first place. I’m sorry for that.”
“You said yes because you love me.”
“Loved… that’s past tense.” I closed my eyes briefly. I really hadn’t meant to sound like such a bitch.
We walked in silence before arriving at my apartment. I wanted to send him away, but he was standing there melting in the Florida sun with my artwork in his arms and not even complaining about his clothing getting dirty from the sculpture.
“Come in and I’ll get you a drink.” I unlocked the door.
Slowly, he stepped into the small apartment, too shocked to speak when he saw that all the walls were covered in my drawings and paintings. “Shit, Farrah. You are into this lifestyle deep.” He placed the bust he’d carried from campus on the table.
“You make it sound like I’m snorting cocaine off my coffee table and turning tricks on the street corner.” I grabbed a cup from the cabinet and set it on the counter.
“Even the way you speak. It’s… not as ladylike.”
“I’m sorry I’m not up to your standards anymore. I’m angry at you, your family, and my family. It affects my speech.”
“Everyone is worried about you. Your parents l
ove you. I love you.” He walked into the kitchen, cupped my face in his hands, and kissed my lips gently. “We can spend tonight in each other’s arms like we did before you ran away. Then I’ll help you pack and we’ll go home.”
He almost had me convinced. One visit and one kiss had me ready to give up being out on my own, living a life where I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. For a moment, I hesitated in denying him and in that brief time frame my phone vibrated. I stepped back and poured Brody a glass of juice, distancing myself from the conversation and temptation. He frowned, but accepted the drink.
“Too bad it’s not scotch.”
I checked my phone casually. It was Gavyn confirming we were still on for a date tomorrow. He’d saved me from doing something stupid by texting me at that exact moment.
“Thanks for helping me out today, but I’m not going back to that life full of fake people.”
“All people are fake. Rich, poor… it doesn’t matter. I'm real and what we had was, too.” He placed my engagement ring on the counter. “Put it back on.” He headed for the door in a hurry, leaving me staring at the floor. He paused with his hand on the knob and turned back to me. “I’m not going back without you.”
“And I’m not going back… ever,” I said softly though he was already out the door. Half an hour with him and my willpower and defiance were already slipping away. I thought of the real reason I’d left him… left home. All the time apart and neither of us had the courage to speak of it.
The two carat diamond ring sparkled even under the cheap fluorescent kitchen lights. I crossed my arms, staring at the ring that had meant the world to me the night Brody had slipped it onto my finger in front of our family and friends on my last birthday. Fearing touching it would undo all my resolve, I didn’t move for a long time.
“This is stupid.” I stepped closer and picked up the ring between my index finger and thumb. Memories I wanted to remain buried flooded my mind.
Ten months earlier—
“Happy Birthday, dear Farrah. Happy Birthday to you!” My family and friends sang to me in the dining room of the country club.
