The Practitioner

by Ronica Black

  “And I don’t wish what I’m able to do on you. It would change who you are. Harden you. And that would be a tragedy.”

  Johnnie sipped her tea. “So what now?”

  “We do your favorite thing. We talk.”

  Johnnie smiled. “I think you seeing those paintings exposed me enough for one day.”

  The woman blushed, and Johnnie wanted to touch her skin and feel its heat. But she didn’t dare, for there was something between them now. Something fierce and alive and needful. If that door was opened, there would be no stopping them.

  “Oh no, we’re just getting started.” The coy smile was back. Johnnie returned it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Johnnie fingered the sweat on her glass. Johnnie knew she had felt something. But saying so would only cause more angst between them, something Johnnie knew they were both trying to downplay. “All I need to do is see your face. Hear your voice and I’m good.”

  The woman swallowed, and she fingered her necklace, a gesture Johnnie was beginning to recognize as nerves.

  “I don’t think I should charge you anymore.”

  “But it’s still your time. You’re still helping me. So, yes I’m paying you.”

  “Then we need to get you working.”

  “I am. And according to my friend Jim, those paintings of you could be wildly popular.”

  “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “Or how to feel?” Johnnie smiled. “Don’t worry. I told him no way.”

  She blinked. “Why?”

  “Because they are private, personal. And they are of you. Wouldn’t it make you uncomfortable?”

  She stirred her coffee. “Johnnie, when I was younger, I modeled.”

  “Oh.”

  “So no, I don’t mind. We are here for your success after all.”

  Johnnie sat back against the booth. The paintings meant so much to her. Could she ever let them go?

  “You seem disappointed.”

  “No, I’m just…I don’t know. I feel possessive of them.”

  The woman pegged her with her eyes. She read into the words, knew what they meant, though she didn’t say it.

  “Do what’s best for you.”

  “I’m not used to doing that.” She sighed and looked away.

  “It’s time to start.”

  “It makes me feel selfish. Like I’m not doing the right thing.”

  “Really?” She sipped her coffee, looking intrigued.

  “Care to tell me why?”

  Johnnie squirmed a little.

  “You’re uncomfortable.”

  Johnnie nodded. “I don’t like bringing up the past. I do better by just going forward.”

  “That’s understandable. So how can I help you do that? What can I do to help make your future better?”

  Johnnie half grinned. “Right, because we both know you can’t keep arousing me forever.”

  She glanced out the window, thinking that possibility wouldn’t be half bad, but then she pushed it from her mind.

  “At some point in your life you learned it was safer for you to agree with people, to please them. And it sounds like you still do it to some degree.”

  Johnnie shrugged. “You’re right.”

  “You live alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you get out much?”

  Johnnie shifted and pushed the empty iced tea glass away. When she found nothing to distract her hands, she played with her straw wrapper.

  “I like to stay home.”

  The woman sipped her coffee. She gave her a few moments before pressing her. “Why?”

  “It’s just what I prefer.”

  “To be alone?”

  “To be safe.”

  The woman paused, holding her mug near her lips. She lowered it carefully instead of taking another sip.

  “Do you have people over to your home? Friends?”

  Johnnie wasn’t able to hold her eyes. She was becoming embarrassed. She knew her life wasn’t typical. She knew people didn’t understand.

  “I have one good friend who comes over.”

  “And do you go out with friends anywhere?”

  Johnnie sighed in frustration. “Sometimes.”

  “Do you have fun when you do that?”

  “Not really.”

  “Because you don’t feel safe?”

  Johnnie couldn’t handle her concerned look. She didn’t want her to know these things. She already knew too much.

  “Johnnie?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  She reached across the table to hold her hand but stopped. Johnnie somehow felt it anyway, so warm, so caring, and her eyes were full of care and concern. Johnnie didn’t want that. She couldn’t count on people to care. They always said they did, but they didn’t, not when it counted.

  “Why does it make you uncomfortable? Do you not feel safe right now?”

  Johnnie swallowed against a burning throat. “I don’t want you to know these things. I don’t want anyone to know.”

  The woman seemed to think for a moment. “You’re afraid of what I might think. That maybe I will reject you.”

  Johnnie’s heart pounded with fight or flight. She couldn’t run because the woman needed a ride. No, she’d have to sit and take it.

  “Johnnie, I’m not going to hurt you. Or think any less of you.”

  “You can’t possibly know that.”

  “It would take trust.”

  Johnnie waved off the waitress, no longer thirsty. The woman did the same with her coffee.

  “That is something I do not have,” Johnnie said.

  “Oh, but you do. You’re already trusting me. Little by little.”

  Johnnie reached back for her wallet and set a few bills on the table. The woman dug in her purse and did the same. Johnnie slid from the booth and politely waited for the woman to walk in front of her. She was dressed more casually today. Tan linen pants and flowy blue linen shirt. She looked like she belonged on an island, holding hands with a lover as the ocean lapped at her feet.

  Johnnie wished for an instant she could be that lover, but thinking such things was only torture.

  They climbed into the truck and rode in silence. The woman looked out the window and pressed her dark hair behind her ear. Johnnie noted the small diamond stud and another smaller one nestled in her upper ear. The image stirred her just as nearly everything with the woman did.

  “This is a nice truck,” she eventually said, looking over at Johnnie. Her eyes settled on her hands.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ve been thinking about getting one.”

  Johnnie laughed. “Really?”

  “Something funny about that?”

  Johnnie pressed her mouth closed. “No, nothing at all.”

  “A woman like me can have a truck.”

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  She laughed. “You’re stereotyping me.”

  “Nope, not at all.”

  They pulled back into the office complex, and Johnnie parked next to the woman’s black Audi.

  “I don’t think Audi makes a truck,” Johnnie said, sliding out of the truck with a smile.

  The woman rounded the truck. “Very funny.”

  Johnnie sank her hands into her pockets as they stood near the front entrance.

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  Johnnie must’ve looked surprised because the woman smiled.

  Flustered, Johnnie unlocked the door and held it for her. Then she followed her inside and offered her a drink, which she declined. Instead, she set her purse on the counter and eased onto a stool.

  “Johnnie?”

  Johnnie turned from the easels. “Yes.”

  “I want you to be able to trust me.”

  Johnnie heated at the look the woman was giving her. She began slowly unbuttoning her shirt.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m sharing myself with you. I want you to tou
ch me.”

  “What?” Johnnie looked away, heartbeat in her throat.

  “Can you paint right now?”

  Johnnie breathed deeply. “I don’t know.”

  “I want you to. I want you to touch me by painting me.”

  She stopped with the buttons and reached up and unhooked her lacy bra and draped it over her purse. Then she opened the shirt just wide enough to show the weight of her breasts without showing her nipples.

  Her necklace reflected in the incoming stream of sunlight. Johnnie forced herself to breathe. She couldn’t take her eyes off her. Her skin was smooth, like cream, save for a beauty mark near her navel.

  “Come here,” she said, voice strong.

  Johnnie walked slowly toward her, feeling like she was going to float right up off the floor. She closed her eyes, wondering if she would actually reach her.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Elaine reached out and took her hand. Johnnie opened her eyes, and Elaine gently pulled her closer. She placed Johnnie’s hand on her heart and inhaled sharply at Johnnie’s obvious response.

  “I have a broken heart,” Elaine said, trying desperately to keep her voice calm. “They tell me it’s fixed, but it doesn’t feel like it.”

  Johnnie stared deeply into her eyes. “It hurts.”

  “More than you know.”

  “I can feel it,” Johnnie whispered. She sucked in a shaky breath and pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry you hurt like that.”

  Elaine grabbed her hand again. “Johnnie, can you…sense my feelings?”

  Johnnie swallowed, pulled her hand away. “Don’t ask me what I can’t explain to you.”

  Elaine covered her heart, still able to feel Johnnie’s touch. She watched her walk back to the easels. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, but she’d never had somebody look at her with such understanding, such empathy. So much so that she felt like crying with relief.

  “Is this a bad idea?” she asked, tugging her shirt closed.

  Johnnie moved a canvas off an easel, turned it, placed a new canvas on it, and began opening paint and assorting brushes.

  “I’ve made you uncomfortable again,” Johnnie said, taking a pencil and scratching on the canvas. She paused. “Do you not want to do this now?”

  Elaine shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I’m just making sure you are.”

  Johnnie studied her body and continued drawing. “I understand things better now.”

  Elaine straightened her back and opened her shirt again. She hadn’t modeled for someone since college. And as she watched Johnnie work, she felt her skin heat. She liked watching her face, the concentration, the clench of her jaw. Elaine closed her eyes and moved her fingertips up and down her chest, giving herself gooseflesh. Johnnie didn’t complain, didn’t ask her to stop.

  “Do you want me to take off my shirt?” she said softly, feeling like she had when she’d touched Kyle’s bare skin, imagining it was Johnnie. Like there was a very fine line stopping her from jumping in headfirst, and she didn’t give a flying fuck if the line snapped or not.

  Johnnie paused, looked at her closely. “No.”

  Elaine softened, disappointed. Johnnie was still showing control.

  “Pull your shirt open just a bit more.”

  Elaine did, but Johnnie shook her head and approached. She reached out and moved the shirt deftly with her thumbs to where just a peek of her dark nipples showed. Elaine held her breath. Johnnie held her gaze, and with the tip of her finger, she lightly traced a line down her chest.

  “This…” she said, “is beautiful.”

  Elaine held her hand and didn’t want to let it go. “Tell me, Johnnie. Tell me what hurts you so.”

  Johnnie looked down at their hands. “Let me paint you,” she said. “Let me capture this beauty.”

  “You’re more sensitive than I’m aware of aren’t you?”

  Johnnie met her gaze. “Yes.”

  Elaine released her hand. She watched her return to the painting. Watched the muscles move in her forearm as she painted.

  “I want you to sell this painting,” she said. “Make some money.”

  Johnnie kept working, never breaking focus. “No. This one is special.”

  “What makes it special?”

  Johnnie paused. “It’s you showing me you.”

  Elaine tried to regain her composure. “Sell the others then.”

  “I might,” Johnnie said, once again working. “But there is one in that series I will not let go of.”

  “Which one is that?”

  Johnnie seemed to hesitate, but then answered. “The first one I painted. The one of you sitting on the couch.”

  “In the black skirt?”

  “Yes.”

  Elaine had the urge to finger her necklace. “The one where I’m looking at you with desire.”

  Johnnie stopped. Elaine saw her flush. “Yes.”

  Elaine smiled. Johnnie was talking to her, admitting things that were difficult to admit to someone she knew so little. Could she admit these things to her? No. She couldn’t even admit her own feelings to herself. Johnnie was open and brave in ways she couldn’t possibly understand.

  “Thank you for talking to me. I know you don’t trust.”

  “I don’t. That hasn’t changed.”

  “What has?”

  Johnnie sprayed the painting with a squirt bottle. Elaine assumed it was to keep it moist.

  “You showed me a little of you. And I know doing that is also hard for you. We are very much alike that way.”

  Elaine stared into the dust motes dancing in the sunlight. “I think you’re right.”

  “Unfortunately, I almost always am.”

  Elaine decided to change the subject. “Tell me about your friend. The one you let come over.”

  Johnnie grinned and gave a little laugh. “Eddie? He’s a big pain in my ass.”

  “Eddie. How is he a pain?”

  “He mothers me. Nags me.”

  “Do you need mothering?”

  “He would say yes.”

  “What would you say?”

  “No.”

  “He worries about you?”

  Johnnie mixed some colors together. “Endlessly.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “He says I don’t eat enough, or I eat too much. I don’t get out enough. I don’t date. I’m a recluse. On and on and on.”

  Elaine smiled. “Sounds like he cares.”

  “He drives me nuts.”

  “Do you take care of yourself, Johnnie?”

  Johnnie paused again. Her facial expression changed. “I do fine, thanks.”

  “But if I were to ask Eddie…”

  “He’d disagree with me.”

  “So how does he help? Does he have solutions?”

  Johnnie smiled. “He gave me the number to your practice.”

  Elaine straightened. “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “And we were able to help him?”

  “Oh yeah. He went on and on about a guy named Pedro. Thought he would never shut up about him.”

  Elaine laughed a little. “Pedro. Yes, he’s quite popular.”

  “What about you?” Johnnie asked. “Are you popular?”

  “I do all right.”

  “Men?”

  “Mm, mostly.”

  “You prefer them to women?”

  Elaine shifted a little. “Professionally, yes.”

  “Personally?”

  Elaine gave her a crooked grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “What makes you think I don’t know already?”

  Johnnie stood, worked harder, more focused.

  “How are you doing? Need to move around some?”

  “I’m fine. I just don’t like being under your microscope.”

  Johnnie smiled. “Sucks doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe you’ll have mercy on me now.”

  “Not a chance.”

&nb
sp; Johnnie laughed. “Okay, now I need you to look at me like—”

  “I want you?”

  Johnnie flushed. “Like I’m the one who can mend your heart.”

  Elaine grew silent. She forgot to breathe. “I’m not sure I can.”

  “Pretend.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Think about why your heart hurts and what would make it feel better.”

  Elaine was quiet again. A vision of Barb came, standing right next to Johnnie. Her eyes teared, and she begged her to be real. To return. To walk up to her and touch her. To take her in her arms and take her home. To never leave their safe haven again. To never cry, never hurt. Never curl into a ball in pain. Please, Barb, walk to me.

  She blinked and Barb was gone. Johnnie was there, painting her, stroking her face with her brush, looking at her with such love and understanding. Reaching out to her, touching her heart and mind.

  Should she break the invisible link between them? Or should she let it remain and flow with electricity, sharing each other, understanding, feeling?

  A tear slipped down her cheek. Johnnie saw, but she didn’t stop. She kept painting, gently wiping the tear away with a caring, soulful look. She was holding her now, suspended. Above everything that was dangerous. Johnnie wouldn’t let her fall.

  When Johnnie finally stopped, Elaine was lost in her own world. Johnnie was standing before her. Touching her face gently. “We’re done.”

  Elaine blinked back tears and tugged her shirt closed. Johnnie continued stroking her face. “Are you okay?”

  Elaine nodded. She held Johnnie’s wrist, stilling it. She couldn’t let the touching continue or she’d get lost in her. She stood and buttoned her shirt.

  “Would you like to see?” Johnnie asked.

  Elaine wiped her cheek, found it dry, and felt relieved. “Not right now.”

  Johnnie watched concerned as Elaine reached for her purse and slung it over her shoulder. When she approached, Elaine fought closing her eyes and kissing her.

  “You’re uh, shirt is buttoned crooked.” She concentrated on fixing the buttons. Elaine breathed rapidly. “You’re not okay,” Johnnie said.

  Elaine pushed back her hair. “I will be fine.”

  Johnnie looked into her eyes. “That’s my favorite saying.”

  Elaine smiled. “Then you know it well.”

  “Yes.”