Reality's Illusion

by Stephie Walls

  Nate had run back and forth to different stores to get supplies. By the time midnight rolled around, Sera was asleep on the couch, and Nate was bitching about having a real job that required him to get up in the morning. He was such a little girl when he got tired. I sent him home before waking Sera. I’d be thrilled if she stayed here, waking up with her in the same place, but I didn’t think that would go well for her later, and I wasn’t willing to risk her getting hurt over me.

  As I studied her face, I captured more images of her features and her beauty in my mind to recall later. She was so tranquil, her face quiet with no movement. I wondered if this was the only time she was ever truly at peace. For so many years, the only time I was remotely happy was when I was asleep, when Sylvie would still visit me. Reality was too harsh to handle. Sleep was euphoric. Sera’s hell was very different than mine but hell all the same.

  Not wanting to contribute to her problems, I rocked her arm, carefully waking her. “Come on, sleepyhead. I’ll drive you home.”

  Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes. “You don’t need to do that. Give me a minute to wake up, and I’ll take myself.”

  Back to this. Not one time had Sera ever let me in her house. It wasn’t like I didn’t know she was in a relationship. I couldn’t imagine why everything was so secretive, but there was no point in pushing. It would only cause an argument, and she’d still do exactly what she’d set out to do.

  I’d gotten into a habit of following her home at night to ensure she not only arrived there safely, but there was no one there that might cause her harm. Albeit, she wasn’t aware of this security detail and would be irate if she found out.

  Most nights, her house was dark except for the one or two lights she turned on as she moved through the space. A couple of times, what appeared to be the same dark-colored SUV or van had been there in the same spot, shadows of the night cast upon it, making it almost invisible. I’d yet to get a clear visual on the vehicle, and I’d been following her home a lot more than I cared to admit. The times the other car had been there, I’d circled the block, parking far enough away that she wouldn’t see my car if she looked to the street but close enough that I could see her front door and make out images in the windows. I’d stay until the lights went out. The car never left prior, but it was never there when I came back by in the morning.

  If anyone knew the amount of time I’d spent tracking her, sitting outside her house, it would be borderline stalking. I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening, though. If I knew he was there hurting her and I did nothing, it would destroy me. I was foolish to think there was anything I was going to see or be able to do. It was a false sense of security, but the truth was, she was more likely to text me if she needed help than I was to detect it in the car on a dark curb. I was lucky none of her neighbors had noticed me on my self-imposed stakeouts and called the cops.

  I waited until she pulled off before I went to my car, and I arrived as she stepped inside. The lights were already on, the usual car parked in the darkness under the trees shielding it from view. The curtains were shut, but I could make out the shadows behind them. Sera’s frame was easy to pick out from the two. The other was a large man, tall and broad, but other than that, there was nothing identifiable—just an indistinguishable form. Upon seeing them embrace, I took my leave, unable to stand the thought of anyone touching her, much less someone who abused his place in her life.

  Monday brought more frantic preparations. Ensuring I had sufficient supplies to touch anything up damaged in transport, but not taking everything I owned was a more difficult task than it sounded. My enormous paintings consumed the limited space in the SUV. They doubled in size when transporting the wooden casings. Luckily, most of Ferry’s things were nowhere near the size of mine. He carried prints in a huge leather portfolio, only framing one of each.

  With Ferry set to arrive at seven, I double-checked the list Sera left for me so I didn’t forget anything I needed. Once there, I wouldn’t be able to run back to my house to pick something up.

  I’d texted Sera several times today with no response. Starting to worry, I stopped what I was doing to drive by her house. It was unlike her to ignore my messages, even if she just said she was busy. Her house was empty, no cars in the driveway, but I went to the front door anyhow, knocking with no response. I peeked in the windows—a glimpse into her private world—nothing appeared out of place. Her home was beautiful on the inside, and I was suddenly jealous I’d never been invited inside. I couldn’t help but wonder why she was so closed off about this part of her. She shared intimate details with me, but the most intimate place in her life, her home, was totally off-limits.

  She pulled up as I was walking down the sidewalk to my car. The irritation was evident in her voice and written all over her expression. “What are you doing here, Bastian?” Her face blistered in anger.

  “I was worried about you. You haven’t answered any texts.”

  “You need to go.” Her terse tone took me by surprise.

  I didn’t argue with her and just did as she requested. With wounded pride, I made the walk of shame.

  It stung.

  Her scorn.

  My brain told me she was protecting herself; my heart just hurt. As I turned, going away from her house, the dark-colored SUV turned into her driveway. Now would be the time to find out who she was hiding. I debated making a U-turn and confronting the asshole in her front yard but feared it would do more damage than good and quite possibly permanently ruin our friendship.

  I pounded my fists on the steering wheel and screamed at nothing and everything. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Why in the fuck does she put up with this shit?” Continuing to curse the entire ride home, my eyes burned from fighting tears, and my voice was hoarse from screaming. I swallowed the lump in my throat, hard, and forced it back down. I refused to allow myself to break over her choices, those she made long before I’d ever met her. Hopefully, she’d be back to herself by the time I saw her in New York.

  Ferry arrived promptly at seven—typical. For an artist, he was far too punctual. He was pulling a small, enclosed trailer. The moment he opened his mouth, I knew not to cross him. He was in one hell of a shitty mood. This had been difficult to pull together on my end, and I was sure it had been equally as hard for him. I’d never tried to prepare for a showing in a matter of days. Add the magnitude of Le Musée to the equation, and it’s a task of monumental proportion. Treading lightly, I waited for Ferry to tell me what he wanted me to do, which didn’t take long. He was in a hurry and not interested in spending all night loading, which meant he started barking out orders fast.

  His stuff was already in the trailer; together, we gathered my pieces, starting with Black Clutch since it was the largest. It was like playing Tetris to get both of our works in the metal box behind his SUV and feel confident it wasn’t going to shift in transit. Two hours later, he pulled off, never admitting what his anger was over, and I never asked.

  Ferry and I had become friends, but we didn’t exchange heartfelt stories or look to the other for advice on anything outside of art. Our friendship absolutely centered on our ability to use the other for artistic gain, but we were both aware of that. It was mutually beneficial and worked. I would never reassign Ferry to Nate’s position in my life, and I had no expectation of garnering one of equal proportion in his. I’d like to say I knew who his friends were, but honestly, I’d never heard him mention anyone outside of an acquaintance. The closest thing to a friend he’d ever acknowledged were the random women he slept with in different cities as he traveled. Surely, he had friends, but if he did, I had no clue who they were.

  With the trailer and subsequently Ferry gone, there was nothing left for me to do but pack my suitcase. Sera had left me different lists for each portion of the trip, one for the artwork, one for my toolkit, and finally one for my suitcase. I laughed as I read through it because she listed my tuxedo twice. It was first and last with a P.S. at the end. It was the most important g
arment, and likely, the only one I wouldn’t remember since it was in a separate bag. Retrieving it from the closet, I opened the bag, double-checking each piece was there. Satisfied, I grabbed two pairs of Chucks to go with it, a different color for each night at Le Musée. Smurf blue and bright purple. Hopefully, Aaron Dubois knew I didn’t do dress shoes. If not, I guess he was about to learn the hard way.

  I didn’t do understated, either.

  Black Converse would be the logical choice if I weren’t going to wear the matching penguin feet, but it just doesn’t work for me. I didn’t do subtle very well. I was unassuming; I blended in like a wallflower, but I was still me, a splash of color. It didn’t hurt that it typically irritated the hell out of gallery owners and curators. As an artist, it was difficult to allow someone else to decide the direction and appearance of my artwork. They dictated black tie because it drove up prices, in turn, commissions soared. Ugly ass Chucks were my way of saying, “Fuck you. I think for myself.” I doubted anyone cared as much as I wanted to believe they did, but the shock value still entertained me. It was my signature.

  With my suitcase packed, my belly full from leftovers courtesy of Nate, I tossed myself, exhausted, onto my bed. This time tomorrow, I’d be in New York, seventy-two hours away from my debut at Le Musée. Reflecting on the last year of my life, I recognized how far I’d come and the people who’d been integral in my success.

  I couldn’t deny Nate, Sera, and Ferry had brought me to where I was. Each one of them had played a different role but a significant role nonetheless. I hated that two of the three were having such a bad day. Ferry could work out his own shit, but I worried about Sera.

  I texted her, apologizing for showing up unannounced and explained my concern. Her only response was two words, words I hated hearing or seeing because they were always a lie from any woman.

  Sera: I’m fine.

  There was no point in responding. She was pissed. I got it. Knowing Sera, she’d be over it by the time she arrived in New York, and we’d pretend like nothing had ever happened. Nate wouldn’t allow her to wallow in a crappy mood. I took comfort in knowing my best friend would be with her, and she’d be safe for a few days.

  My plan didn’t bode well with Sera. The texts started rolling in faster than I could read them.

  Sera: Do you know how much trouble you could’ve gotten me into tonight?

  Sera: Even worse, do you know how much trouble you could’ve gotten yourself into tonight?

  Sera: Approaching someone else’s sub is a complete violation of protocol.

  Sera: What were you thinking?

  What was I thinking? Was she fucking kidding me with this shit?

  Me: Are you kidding?

  Sera: No. I’m not.

  Me: First of all, I’d love some motherfucker to try to touch you with me around or even better, come after me. I don’t give a shit, Sera. I’m not afraid of him or anyone else. I have lived on the edge of death for years. Do you think that frightens me? Believe it or not, I can handle myself.

  Sera: You don’t get it.

  Me: I didn’t approach you as someone else’s fucking sub. I approach you daily as my friend. That has nothing to do with your relationship with any Dom or Master. I was worried about you and afraid you might be hurt. That’s what friends do. They look out for each other, especially when one of them frequently turns up with injuries.

  Sera: Two minutes later and it could have ended very differently.

  Me: I saw him pull up Sera. I could have turned around and ended this entire charade once and for all. I didn’t, out of respect for you. Don’t make me regret that decision.

  Sera: Do you have any idea what he would’ve done if you’d been here when he pulled up?

  Me: Guess it’s lucky for him that I chose not to have that confrontation today.

  Me: Mark my words, Sera. That day is coming. I will confront him. I will have my day with him. He will answer for every scratch, every bruise, every stitch, and every broken bone. He will pay retribution for ever harming a single hair on your head. I will deliver that bill.

  Me: Stop worrying about me. Has it occurred to you if you’re afraid to have friends at your house, this is quite possibly the most horrific relationship you could have in your life? You shouldn’t have to hide your friends, especially ones he already knows about. Why can’t you see how detrimental he is to you?

  Sera: Please let it go, Bastian.

  Me: Never.

  It was a promise I made to myself more than to Sera. I wouldn’t let it go until I got revenge for her. I wouldn’t let it go until I shook some sense into her and beat the fuck out of him. I wasn’t a physical guy. Violence was typically the furthest thing from my mind, but I would unload on him.

  I didn’t know when.

  I didn’t know how.

  But when it finally came to blows, he would rue the day he’d ever met me.

  16

  Chapter Sixteen

  I couldn’t shut my brain down after arguing with Sera. My adrenaline pumped, my heart raced, and at four in the morning, I got up to shower after staring at the walls for as long as I could stand without going insane. Ferry was supposed to be here in an hour, and I hoped like hell the stream of water did more for me than trying to sleep had.

  My eyes burned with fatigue, and my mood wasn’t any better. I’d waffled between irate at Sera’s text messages and her concern for my well-being. I wasn’t Nate’s size, but I wasn’t scrawny, either. I’d put back on a good bit of weight in the last few months. The more I thought about the entire situation, the more pissed off I got. Sera wasn’t protecting herself, so there was no logic in her believing she could or needed to protect me.

  The water beat down on my back like little daggers, piercing my skin until it finally warmed. The cold sting of the droplets was enough to wake me before the heat started to soak in. Sera’s image floated in front of my closed lids, her lips turned up. I couldn’t stay angry at that face. Her eyes called to me, her lips puckered, and her nipples pebbled beneath her whimsical blouse. Catching myself before I fell, my head snapped up. I was more tired than I had realized. I braced myself against the chilled-tile walls and dropped my head to allow my mind to wander back and forth. Her beauty and my irritation were at constant war with each other. A shower did nothing to resolve that battle, and I gave up and got out.

  By the time Ferry rang the bell, I’d had a cup of coffee, but my outlook wasn’t much brighter. I should have been elated with the opportunity in front of me; instead, I was irritable and punchy, and Ferry picked up on it as soon as he came through the door.

  “This should make for a fun trip.” His upper lip quirked in a snarl, apparently in no better state himself.

  I dragged my luggage behind me, grabbing my coffee from the counter. “What’s crawled up your ass?”

  “Long night, unhappy morning. You?”

  “Same.”

  “Nate?”

  I stopped on the sidewalk; Ferry stopped, too. With my bags in hand and my shoulders slumped, I let out a loud huff. “You do know that Nate and I aren’t gay, right?”

  He cracked the first smile I’d seen from him in days and then roared with laughter. “Lighten up, Bastian. I wasn’t implying you were. Simply asking because you two have kind of been on the outs recently.”

  “Sorry, I’m a little on edge. No, not Nate. Sera.”

  He started moving again, leaving me to stare at his back. “You need to stay away from that girl. I’m telling you, Bastian, she’s not beneficial to you in any way.”

  “What’s your beef with her? This is the third time you’ve tried to warn me off but never with any explanation.”

  “Just trust me on this one.”

  Again, I didn’t pursue the conversation, and he offered no explanation. Whatever it was he had against her, he wasn’t going to share. It was unlikely it would change my opinion anyhow.

  With my bags loaded, I jumped into the front seat to start our twelve-hour drive. Dawn
started to break when we hit Charlotte. Either I was still asleep when Ferry had gotten to my house, or it had been so dark that I was blind. Scabby scratches covered his arms and the side of his face.

  “What the hell happened to you? You look like you got into a fight with the tree, and the branches won.”

  He waved me off and kept his eyes on the road. “I was doing some stuff around my house last night and got scratched up. It’s all superficial. It’ll be gone by the opening. I’ll put on a long sleeve shirt before we go into Le Musée.” It didn’t look superficial, but who was I to judge.

  Small talk didn’t appeal to Ferry. We didn’t like the same type of music, and Ferry lived by the rule that the driver was the DJ. By the time we’d made it to Roanoke, I was ready to slit my wrists. I had to get the hell out of this car, and Ferry finally agreed to stop for gas.

  Whatever had taken place last night had Ferry in the same fowl mood I was in, but I still tried to be polite. While I was tired and irritable, it wasn’t the cashier’s fault I hadn’t slept, nor the guy standing in front of the restroom, blocking the door. They were innocent bystanders, but damn, Ferry had no problem ripping them a new one when they didn’t move as quickly as he deemed appropriate. I apologized to the girl behind the register as I left, embarrassed by Ferry’s uproar. And when we returned to the car, I ignored his snide comment and got back in to finish this awful journey. I could’ve driven my own car and should have.