Possession

by Johnson, A. M.

  Friends.

  I nodded. “I don’t generally walk three miles up a mountain to see people who aren’t my friends.” My smile was wide as she rolled her eyes.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Friends.

  I wanted more. I wanted to kiss her, to touch her face, to feel her mouth on mine. I hadn’t ever kissed a girl before, and I wanted her to be my first. I wanted to do things I probably shouldn’t, but the longer she looked at me like that, with big, expectant blue eyes, the feelings I had stirred into something vicious, and the male in me craved to feel any part of her.

  “What did you mean?” I stepped in, closer than I normally allowed, and linked our other hands.

  I was so much taller than her and I liked that she had to look up at me. Her back would arch just enough that it would close the space between our bodies and the heat made everything I hated about myself disappear. It was just her. Just me.

  Her cheeks were crimson as she licked her lips. “Am I more than a friend?”

  She was more than she would ever know.

  I nodded. “Do you want to be?”

  She sucked on her bottom lip before she spoke and I almost groaned.

  “Yes.”

  I placed a strand of her hair behind her ear, leaned down, and brought my lips to her cheek. The connection made her shudder and I grinned as I said, “Good.” The confident tone of my voice surprised me, and as I pulled away and saw the smile on her face, the lush red color of her cheeks, for the first time in my forsaken, shit of a life, I felt normal.

  The music in the studio couldn’t drown out the memory as I pulled my brush along the canvas. The spindly, bare branches of Aspens fit nicely in the background of the painting. Paige’s eyes were surrounded by the color of summer sunsets and the night of winter. I’d told her today that she was poison and I’d meant it. I’d meant to stab her with the word. I’d meant to make her feel how I’d felt for the past nine years. Unsure, unhappy, lost. Tasting the tears on her lips, feeling her breath mix with mine again… I would suffer her noxious death, her unspoiled oblivion, her tainted kisses because I was sick for them. I was no better in my addiction than my father and his whiskey, than Liam and his useless conquests, and Kieran is his indulgent love of Christ.

  The day I walked into Paige’s childhood home I knew I shouldn’t want her. We were too different, and when I’d felt that burst of confidence, that need of normalcy for the first time, I was hooked. I lived for the fix, for the silence and beauty Paige granted me with each touch. I hated her and loved her and just like the addict, with a monkey on his back, when I’d left the church today I knew I’d never be able to quit her.

  The brush fell from my paint-covered hand to the floor. I hadn’t realized how out of breath I’d become. The anger rushed through me with each rapid pulse of my heart. I closed my eyes and let the music surround me. I needed a break from those eyes, but even in the darkness she could find me. I felt her hand in mine, and the smell of the old cathedral filled my nostrils as I inhaled. Her prayer haunted me.

  “I am wounded, and saddened. I am weak and miserable. Without thee, I am lost. I have sinned, dear Lord, and I do not deserve thy grace, but I seek it… I seek it. I seek thy forgiveness, I seek the forgiveness of thee, and of the one I love, the one I have wronged.”

  Her frame was so fragile. The devils in my head begged to see her bones, see what horror lay beneath, but the human in me couldn’t hate the shell of the woman who’d kneeled beside me… not anymore. I opened my eyes and Paige’s gaze watched me from the canvas. Everything I hated about her had vanished and all that was left was a woman I didn’t recognize. Her youth and beauty had paled and she was a skeleton of her former self, a wraith, just like I’d always envisaged her to be. She hadn’t looked so frail when I’d seen her here in the studio the other day. It seemed I’d ruined her as much as she’d ruined me.

  I bent down, grabbed the brush, and took a rag from my pocket, wiping up the splatter from the floor the best I could. The studio floor was covered in paint anyway. The clock on the wall told me I’d been here way too damn long. I covered my paint and gathered up my brushes. I dropped them in the jar of thinner sitting on the back wall and disconnected my phone from the stereo.

  “Shit.”

  My hands were still wet and left fingerprints on my phone case. I wiped the excess paint off my hands onto my jeans. As I wiped the back of my phone as well, I saw the blue notification light was blinking. I opened the lock screen and saw I’d missed a few calls from Liam and had a text from Kieran.

  Kieran: Dinner tomorrow at Mom’s.

  It was too late to text and say I didn’t feel like doing the Sunday dinner thing, but I’d missed the last few and I was pretty sure my mom, if capable, would’ve driven to the shop and dragged me there. I stared at Kieran’s previous text. The one that warned me he’d accidentally told Paige where I was. I’d have to let him off the hook tomorrow. Kieran hadn’t meant any harm, he never did, but sometimes I wished he could lie just like the rest of us. The whole not being a liar thing was inconvenient for him.

  I flipped through my contacts until I saw her name, and I wondered if her number was the same. My thumb hovered over the call button. We’d been on neutral ground today. A truce had been called before God as we both felt our sin and heard the other’s prayer. It was always that way with us. Her joy was my joy. My love was her love. Her pain was my pain. Paige and I were one, and we’d felt it today. I wasn’t sure if she was still married. I knew nothing of her these past nine years but the memories I’d dwelled in. Today, I’d wanted to set her free from her pain. She’d sought me out for forgiveness, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to resist her lure.

  I let the screen go black and placed my phone back into my pocket. I walked through The Gallery and locked the front door behind me. The bite of early fall sent a shiver down my limbs as I walked to the apartment. The city streets were abandoned for beds and lovers, and I was alone with my thoughts and the demons that twisted my rights into wrongs.

  “Let me see her!” I shouted.

  Paige’s father curled his upper lip exposing his white teeth. “You’re to never see my daughter again.” His words moved like ice, slow and hateful. “You think I’d let her see you again after what you two have done. You’ve murdered an innocent life, and I will see to it that Paige pays for her sin, that she gets her atonement, but you…” He shoved me square in the chest, but I held steady and rolled my shoulders back. Mr. Simon stepped off the threshold closing the distance between us, so close I could smell his self-righteous breath. “You’re worthless, Declan, always have been, always will be, and I will pay my own price to the Savior for ever allowing you to get close to my daughter.”

  Worthless. Worthless. Trash.

  No.

  I shook my head and shoved him back.

  “Paige!” I called her name in a roar. She had to hear me, she had to know I’d come back.

  “She told us what happened, Declan. She broke down to her mother three days ago. Did you think you both could just throw away a life without guilt… without consequence? She doesn’t want to see you, and if you don’t get off my front porch I’ll call the cops!”

  She’s given up on you.

  She hates you.

  “Paige! Please!” I was frantic and I tried to pass him, but he blocked the door.

  “Call the police!” he shouted over his shoulder, and Paige’s mother glared at me as she pulled her phone from her pocket and flipped it open.

  “Just…” I was out of breath, out of chances. “Tell Paige I forgive her.”

  I didn’t wait for a confirmation, he’d never tell her and if I stayed I’d end up in jail, or worse, the psych unit. I should’ve never told her to leave last week. I should’ve never shut her out… I’d let her believe that I hated her and now I’d lost her.

  The city loomed above me as I neared my apartment, and the laughter in my head was sardonic. The hate inside me had won the
day I broke up with Paige. I could twist and turn the story over in my head a thousand times. She’d given up on me, didn’t think I was good enough to marry, and when I’d told her I’d never forgive her, I’d been still freshly wounded. But over the next few days, it had started to become gangrenous with regret, and I’d been able to see what I hadn’t seen before. She’d said she didn’t want to destroy my future, not hers. She’d said she wanted to protect me. And maybe it had been a lie, and maybe it hadn’t. We’d both been too fucking young, too caught up in our own pain to be capable of dealing with any of that shit, and over the years I’d lost touch with the truth, and I’d let the wound rot. Her father had been right.

  I was worthless.

  “I seek the forgiveness of thee, and of the one I love, the one I have wronged.”

  She didn’t know.

  I’d been a coward to walk away from that porch without telling Paige the truth. Without trying harder to tell her in person that I’d forgiven her. Instead of trying to get her back, I’d bowed out. I’d let her go. For years, every month on the thirteenth, I’d go to church and I’d light a candle for our child, for Paige, in hopes she could feel its healing flame. I’d stopped going a few years ago in an attempt to move on, in an attempt to heal the festered wound, but it only made it worse. Not until today, when I felt her hand in mine, her lips against me, had I ever thought I’d be pardoned of our sin. I’d left the church with anger, fear, and uncertainty, but I’d also left with a peace I couldn’t explain, like that part of my life, the hole caused by the choice—the loss of our child, had finally been sewn shut.

  Kneeling together, as one.

  It was as it should’ve been.

  It was as if God had finally heard the call, and our prayers had finally been answered.

  The tree branches were intricate, and the odor of fresh paint might’ve been undetectable to others, but as I stood just a breath away from the perfection of the painting, I could smell it. The sharp scent tickled my nose and the pain, it was everywhere. It was in each brush stroke, each dark color. I stepped backward and the sullen tree branches blossomed in front of me in a wide panoramic. The eyes that watched me from the canvas were now surrounded by wintered bark. The branches and twigs jutted out in every direction. It had been winter the first time Declan had come to my home, and I wished he was here now so I could ask him if this was, in fact, the tree line of my parents’ house, if he still cherished the old days like me. I wished so much to go back to that day. A simpler time.

  I brought my hands to my lips and sucked in a deep breath. I felt him. The tingle of his lips, and his beard, it was new to me, but I could feel it like I’d always known this man, like he was a part of me, like I had no other choice but to find him, be near him.

  “Paige, it’s time to go.” Luca stared at me with annoyance. I only worked with her every once in a while. She was part-time like me so I rarely saw her.

  “I’ll be right there,” I said with as much civility as I could muster. I wanted to stay.

  Three days had gone by since our small armistice inside the church, and I still hadn’t seen him here. But Declan’s painting continued to get more detailed, and I wondered if he came afterhours to avoid me. When I’d checked the rental log earlier, I’d noticed that Chandler had booked Declan another week. According to the log, Declan had paid cash, up front. The idea of sneaking back to the shop later was risky, and my throat was tight just thinking about it as I tried to swallow.

  I wanted to see him again, talk to him, but I wasn’t ready to stroll into Avenues Ink to do so. Lana had said she’d go with me, she’d just book another tattoo and I could go with her. It would all be very innocent and oh shucks, fancy seeing you here. It would be fake, and the last thing Declan and I needed was a façade to hide behind. I was glad to see he still came here each night and poured his heart, his thoughts onto canvas. I was intruding on something very private every time I’d take a sneak peek to see if he’d been here the night prior. This seemed to be his sanctuary, and I worried I’d been wrong to step foot in his place of peace. But seeing each new brush stroke, each new color, the painting was drawing us closer. I nodded my head as I came to terms with my decision to come back tonight in hopes that he would be here.

  “I was about to lock you in.” Luca’s face was dead serious. “But I remembered you have the stupid keys.”

  Luca didn’t talk much and, if anything, it was her only good quality. She was stunning though. Tall with long, silky blonde hair, artsy black-rimmed glasses, and a personality as cold and dull as the color of steel. She was waiting for me by the front door as I walked out of the studio. I grabbed my bag and gave her an apologetic smile as she glared at me while pushing open the shop door.

  The night air was dry and cool, and I wished I lived closer so I could walk home. There was a certain fragrance to the shift in seasons. When summer still clung tight to the soil, but winter begged to differ. It was a mixture that created such vivid colors on the mountainside, as the leaves turned over their last breath to the changing weather. When I used to paint, it was always in warm, earth tones, and Declan was always dark. We had always been total opposites, but it worked.

  “Goodnight. See you next week,” I tried, but she just waved over her shoulder as she walked in the opposite direction.

  I waited till she was gone and contemplated just going back in, but it was early still, just past eight. I walked slowly to my car, the pull of the studio was much stronger than the need to eat, but I caught my reflection in the glass of the neighboring store’s front windows and brought my hand to my stomach. I really was skin and bones.

  “That blouse is too small, change it.” Clark narrowed his gaze as he eyed me through the mirror and adjusted his tie. “You’re gaining weight, Paige.”

  I pulled at the hem of my blouse trying to get it to cover my belly. I dropped my eyes to the bedroom carpet. “The doctor said if I put on some weight, it might help with regulating my ovulation. I won’t get above one-fifteen.”

  He turned and his lips twitched on one side as he moved toward me. My heart sank in my chest as he brought his hands to my waist. He’d always wanted a taller wife, a thinner wife… children. I was such a disappointment.

  “Look at me,” he demanded, so I obeyed. He searched my expression, and I hoped he wouldn’t be able to discern the fear in my eyes, the sound of my heart was like a bull-horn in the silent room. “One hundred and fifteen pounds is acceptable.”

  I exhaled a small breath and he brought his mouth to mine. His lips were thirsty and his breath was warm with a stale mint. He lifted his hands to my face and tilted my head backward, as his tongue pushed into my mouth without grace or permission. He always just took. There was no romance, no lust… no love… I was his and that is all that mattered. He pulled away and took a step backward as he appraised me and narrowed his brows. “Take your place, Paige.”

  “But, we’ll be late for church.” My mouth went dry.

  He clenched his jaw. “You’ve already caused us to be late. I asked you to change for a reason, did I not? You can’t wear that, it’s too small, and now… you’ve gone and riled me up… take your place.” His command was dripping with disdain, and his lips were in a firm line as he loosened his belt, untucking his dress shirt. I brought my eyes back to the floor as the familiar feeling of dread spread across my skin in a damp, cold sweat.

  The cool air turned to ice in my veins as I hurried to my car. I had lost too much weight. The divorce, Declan, it was all taking a toll on me and, if I wasn’t careful, I’d let my memories turn me to dust and ashes. My place. My place had been on my back, always still, no sound, no enjoyment. Three nights a week or more if he deemed it necessary. We were to have sex for procreation not pleasure, so Clark had always said, but he’d slept with Cheryl. I was sure that was specifically for pleasure. My hands balled into fists. When I was with Clark, I’d let myself forget what it was like before… I’d let myself think that was my worth, that I was no better
than a prized horse. I’d exchanged love for ownership. I’d forgotten what it was like to enjoy physical touch. Clark had destroyed any notions of romantic attachments. Our marriage had always been about him, his needs, his wants, and how I’d never measured up.

  I grit my teeth as I sat in my car and slammed the driver side door. I’d let him control my life, my mind, and my body. He used me. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I remembered how soft Declan’s lips had always been, how his touch pulled feelings from me, from my body that Clark had never been able to attain. Declan loved me… he loved me, and when our lips met again in the church, it had briefly washed away all the ugly Clark had covered me in.

  There was no question anymore. My past was linked to my present, and if I didn’t try to talk to Declan, try to fix the wrongs I’d committed, then that girl who stared at me from the store front window… she would win, and even death wouldn’t be enough to end my suffering.

  “Um… are we eating for two? Is there something you need to tell me?” Lana’s eyes were wide as I shoveled stir-fry into my mouth.

  “It’s really good,” I spoke around a mouthful of rice.

  “I can tell you like it… are you in a hurry, because if you eat any faster I don’t think it’ll digest, and you’ll be shitting full pea pods.”

  I choked down a laugh and struggled to swallow my bite.

  “You haven’t eaten in days and now… are you binging?” She gave me a knowing look and I narrowed my eyes.

  “No,” I said with an exasperated exhale. “I’m thinking…” I fiddled with my napkin as I diverted my gaze to the table. “I’m thinking I might go back to The Gallery tonight, he booked another week.”

  “Declan?” Her fork scraped against the plate.

  “Yes.”

  It was quiet for a few moments before either of us said anything. She watched me push my food around my plate before she said, “I think this is good. I mean after what happened at St. Ann’s… you guys need to reconnect, get all this shit… out… in the open… done.”