by Alicia Rades
I’m hoping that Juliet understands what an accomplishment this is. She hasn’t said much about the exhibit at all, but perhaps I just haven’t been listening. I have been acting like a selfish bitch lately, and I’m a bit annoyed at myself for it. Tonight, however, I’m not going to let anything bother me. I’m prepared for an elegant, relaxing evening.
After a moment, Juliet sees someone she knows, and I let her run off and make conversation as I explore the maze of artwork surrounding me. Immersing myself into it, I take my time to admire each painting by different artists.
One painting in particular catches my eye, and I let myself get lost in it for several minutes. It’s a painting of a glorious landscape that depicts the setting sun over a beautiful lake. It’s not the landscape that captivates me, though. It’s the magnificent brush stroke that makes the sun’s reflection off the water come to life and appear as if in motion. Something about the painting seems familiar, and when I check the caption, I know why.
This is Juliet’s work of art, and although I’ve seen her talent before, I can’t pull my eyes away from it. I’m forced to, however, when a man with a tray of Champaign glasses walks up to me.
“Champaign?” he asks. I graciously accept, taking a glass from his tray. I sip on it, and it tastes sweet.
I’m still admiring the painting when another man walks up to me. He’s older and slim with a grey mustache. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments as he admires the painting along with me.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, making conversation.
I look at him, then back to the painting. “Yeah, it really is.”
“This artist has real talent,” he compliments as he turns away to view other paintings, and I’m excited by his words. I want to tell Juliet what he’s said, so I turn from the painting to go find her. This is such a huge accomplishment, and I want her to know exactly how amazing this is for her.
I’m not sure precisely where I am. I’m still lost between the walls in the maze. I shuffle between stand-alone walls and pieces of artwork in the center of the aisles, trying to remember how exactly I got so far back into the room.
I’m expecting to emerge into the entrance any time now, but when I round the corner, I immediately spot Jacob Bishop. His elbow is propped up on his opposite hand again, and he’s studying the painting in front of him.
I turn, putting the wall between him and me, but he’s already caught a glimpse of me. “Siobhan,” he calls after me. I freeze and press my body against the wall, trying to blend in. I’m hoping that I’ll turn invisible, but he catches up with me.
In an instant, all the effort I put into relaxing yesterday is rendered useless. My body tenses, and all my thoughts about Jacob come rushing back into my head.
“Look, can we talk about what happened?” he asks. “I mean, I’m not sure what’s going on. I wish you would tell me.”
I want desperately to escape, but Jacob is so close to me now, I’m not sure if I can. I haven’t yet mastered the ability to melt into walls, either. Nevertheless, I’m trying very hard to disappear. My heart is racing, and I’m just barely able make out my words.
“No, Jacob.” I try to stay calm, but a bit of a snarl escapes with my words. “I don’t want to talk.”
He doesn’t listen to me. “I understand you have difficulties trusting people, Siobhan. I get that now, and I don’t blame you for not telling me about your past. It makes sense.” His voice stays calm and quiet. “I just wish you could take a leap of faith on this one and trust me.”
I’m am fully annoyed at him. I hate that he’s pushing the issue and that he’s also blocking my escape route. He’s so close to me now that I can smell him. Although I don’t want to, I can’t help but take a long inhale to enjoy his fragrance. Damn you Jacob Bishop for smelling so great.
After a moment, I realize what I’m doing, and my breath instantly ceases then returns to normal. “Jacob, I don’t want to talk,” I say as I push past him, shoving him out of my way with my elbow. My face is flaming, and my fists are clenched in exasperation.
Why in God’s name is he here? Did Juliet invite him just because I was coming? I’m mad. I’m upset at both of them, and without taking the time to find Juliet, I down the rest of my Champaign. Then I leave the gallery as quick as I can find my way out.
Once out in the night air, I stop and press my hands into my knees, bending at the waist. I am trying to pull in as much air as possible, but it’s not making its way to my lungs. There’s a pain in my chest, and I think I’m having a panic attack. I take another deep breath, and that seems to help. After a few moments, I regain my strength and I’m able to breathe again. There are a few people outside staring at me, but I ignore them.
I have no idea where I’m headed. All I know is that I want to distance myself from the gallery. My heels click against the sidewalk for what seems like quite a while. I’m drained of all my energy, so I slow, finally giving in and waving down a taxi. I give the cab driver my address, and we continue on toward my apartment.
I stare out the window, trying to process everything that’s happened to me in the past two weeks. I don’t know what to think of it all. I’m not sure if I’m angry at myself or at something else entirely. After a while, I notice that my fists are clenched so tight that my nails are digging into my palms. I release my hands and tell my body to relax. Taking in deep breaths slowly, I try to channel some of what I’ve learned in yoga into this moment. It works a bit, but not to the extent I was hoping for because I’m still tense.
I’m still staring out the window as we drive through the city streets, and I’m suddenly intrigued by the nightlife. There are lights flashing at me from every way, and people are crowding the sidewalks. The scene appears so enthralling to me right now like I could easily get lost in it and forget about my troubles.
“Stop the cab!” I shout, and the driver pulls over. “Let me out here,” I say. I hand him my fare and climb out.
22
There are people everywhere walking up and down the sidewalks, but what really catches my attention is the line of people forming at the entrance of a club. I suddenly want in.
It’s been so long since Juliet and I went dancing. Since I know yoga hasn’t been helping me relax, I wonder if a night out dancing will help.
I realize that there’s a line forming, but instead of waiting at the back of it, I head to the front of the line and approach the bouncer. I only want to ask him about how long it will take to get in, but before I can say anything, he unlatches the barrier and lets me pass. I hear the crowd groan behind me, but I don’t care.
I’m a bit shocked by this. Do I look that great? Am I one of those people? What does this mean? I try not to look into it too deeply. Instead, I clear my mind the best I can, thank him, and continue down the hallway until I emerge into a massive room packed with people.
I almost forget about Jacob entirely once I’m inside. The music is reverberating throughout my body, and before I know it, my hips are involuntarily swinging along to the beat.
I’m not exactly dressed for this type of nightlife, but I know I look hot—at least I feel sexy in here—so I’m not self-conscious about my body right now. I make my way to the center of the dance floor and let my body sway along with the beat. As if the music is soaking up my sorrow, I slowly begin to let go. It doesn’t take long until I dance away my bad mood.
I’m smiling now, and I’m not holding my body back. I feel like a goddess. It’s not my confidence telling me this. The real indication is the people who are staring at me. Do I look hot, or am I dancing like an idiot? I think it’s the former.
One guy watches me from a few people away, and I stare back at him. He’s tall with a strong build, dark skin, and a smile to die for. His shirt is unbuttoned slightly so that I catch a glimpse of his chest. With our eyes locked, he makes his way toward me and shouts over the music.
“You alone tonight, baby?” he asks loud enough so I can hear him.
Without trying, our bodies press together due to the fact that there are so many people crowding the dance floor. We move against each other.
“Yep,” I shout back.
“Good,” he shouts over the music. “So no one will mind if I do this.”
He wraps his arms around my waist and presses me even closer to him. I don’t mind. It takes my mind off of everything else.
I turn my body around so that I’m facing away from the guy, but I still press my backside up to him and grind against his body. I let my own body move closer to the ground, bending at the knees, and then in one swift, sexy motion, I make my way back to a standing position, pressing my backside along his form the entire way.
This feels great. I don’t recall a time that I’ve ever done this with a stranger. The situation is simply thrilling. I can’t tell if I look ridiculous, but people have told me I’m a good dancer before, so I’m not worried.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, but I can’t hear him over the music.
“What?” I shout back.
He raises his voice. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’d love one!”
He leads me off the dance floor and to the bar. He orders a drink for me, yelling at the bartender over the music, but I can’t hear what he’s ordered. I’m a bit taken aback by this. I’m suddenly reminded about how Jacob lets me order for myself. When the bartender places a shot glass in front of me, I down the sucker as soon as possible in hopes of erasing Jacob from my mind for the night. It burns on the way down. I’m not sure what it was, but it wasn’t terrible.
The guy I’ve been dancing with—I never do get his name—swallows his own shot before we return to the dance floor together.
I dance with this guy until I am too tired to dance any longer. I estimate that I’ve been here for a couple of hours judging by how many song changes there have been.
“I’m sorry,” I lean up at him and shout into his ear so that he can hear me. “I’m just too tired to keep dancing.”
He doesn’t seem disappointed by this. Instead, he graciously leads me off the dance floor. Once we make our way to a less crowded area near the bar, he pulls me into him. Before I know it, he leans down to me and sticks his tongue down my throat.
I am not pleased. I try to push him away, but he only holds onto me tighter. When he finally pulls away from me, he speaks. “Let me take you home,” he says. I am suddenly afraid of him.
I wasn’t looking for a relationship of any sort, and I’m certainly not interested in a one night stand. All I wanted to do was dance. Judging by his appearance, this is not a guy who gets rejected often. I am terrified of what will happen if I reject his offer.
I think quickly, and my plan works. “Is it okay if I use the ladies room first?” I ask, and I quickly escape his grasp.
“I’ll be right here waiting for you,” he tells me with a seductive raise of his eyebrows.
I get out of there as soon as I can, slipping out the back door when he isn’t watching. I suspect no one has ever snuck out on this guy before because he’s quite attractive, but I am in no place to get involved with someone, especially when I don’t even know their name.
Despite the recent assault, I’m still feeling a bit more at ease than when I left the gallery. I wonder if it has anything to do with the Champaign and the shot that I had tonight.
I’m not that far from home, so I walk, even though it’s quite late—or rather early now. When I enter the apartment, Juliet is standing in the living room, her arms crossed and her lips pressed into a hard line. She’s no longer in her dress, but her hair is still styled in her beautiful updo. She explodes.
23
“Where the hell have you been?”
I’m shocked by Juliet’s anger.
“The reception ended hours ago, and when I went looking for you, you were just gone. Jacob said you left, and when I got back, you weren’t here!”
“God,” I answer. “I didn’t know I needed permission to go out.”
“I was worried about you, Siobhan. I had no idea where you were.”
“What was Jacob even doing there? You should have told me he’d be there,” I snap at her.
“He was there because he’s my friend, Siobhan,” she bites back.
Tears are welling up in her eyes—a rarity for Juliet—and I suddenly realize why she wants Jacob and me together so badly. We’re her friends, both of us, and she wants us to be happy. I can hear it in her tone that there is no other reason but that, and I know that she really wanted this to work out.
“What is your issue with him, anyway?” she asks.
I start my way toward my bedroom door, not wanting to talk about it, but she steps in front of me, blocking my path.
“No. You are not hiding out in your room until you tell me what’s going on.” God, she can be so damn bossy sometimes.
“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” I snarl.
“Well, you’re never going to want to talk about it if you keep this up. Jacob told me about what happened at his apartment. Are you afraid of him because you think he knows about your childhood? My God, Siobhan, you need to get over that. First of all, Jacob didn’t know until you told him, and second of all, he doesn’t give a shit. He likes you, and you’ve sabotaged it.”
“Juliet,” I say in a soft voice, finally deciding to open up to her. Honestly, I don’t feel like I have any other option. “He’s written about celebrities before.”
“New flash, Siobhan: you’re not a celebrity anymore.”
Her statement bites. I don’t want her to be, but she is completely right. I’m not a celebrity anymore.
But for some reason, I still can’t let it go. “Well, what about his article about childhood actors? People still care about people like me.”
“Yeah, and people can get your goddamn picture off your Twitter account. They don’t have to sleep with you to get a great story.” I can practically see the smoke escaping her ears and nostrils. “Damn it, Siobhan, why did you have to let a great guy like him go?”
I know arguing about his writing career is getting me nowhere, so I change the subject.
“Why do you even care so much? Why don’t you just butt out if it and stop trying to set me up with every straight guy you meet?”
“Because, Siobhan, I actually give a fuck about you!” We are screaming at each other now. I don’t think I’ve ever fought with Juliet like this before. “It seems like I’m the only one in this room who actually cares.”
“What the hell does that mean?” My voice is loud as I growl at her, and it’s almost exhilarating screaming at her for once instead of simply letting her boss me around. “Are you saying I don’t give a shit about my own well-being?”
“Yeah, Siobhan, that’s what I’m saying.”
“Well, news flash, Juliet. I don’t need a guy in my life to be happy.”
“You may not need a guy, but you need Jacob.”
What does that mean? “I was fine before he came along.”
She lowers her voice a bit. “Maybe Jacob needs you.”
“My God, Juliet.” My voice is still at full volume. “Why are you so adamant about this? It feels like you’re only pushing this to make yourself feel good about actually making a relationship work for once.”
She winces. Holy crap. I hit a nerve hard on that one. I don’t think I’ve ever insulted Juliet like that before. Part of me feels empowered by the statement while the other part pangs with guilt for saying such a thing to her. For a moment, I almost think that I’ve diverted the conversation and that we can start talking about her love life, but she doesn’t back down.
“You will not make this about me, Siobhan. At least I have relationships.”
I roll my eyes in exasperation. “A one night stand is not a relationship.”
“I said this isn’t about me!” she hisses, and I don’t know if it’s because she wants to keep talking about Jacob or because she doesn’t want to talk about her o
wn misfortunes. “This is about you and Jacob. He is the perfect guy for you.”
Back to Jacob now. Yes, I have a few things I’d like to say about him.
“Juliet, I can’t trust him. What about the kid he never told me about?” I argue with rage.
Her face transforms into a confused expression. She doesn’t know about his kid either? “You mean Ben?” she asks. Okay, so she does know about his kid.
“Yeah,” I say, like it’s a no-brainer.
“My God, Siobhan. Learn to give people a chance. That’s not his kid, and he’s not writing a story about you.”
I freeze and then blink a few times. My voice is soft as I stand in place, stunned as if someone just slapped me out of nowhere. “That’s not his kid?” The little boy looked just like him. It made so much sense.
“That’s his sister’s kid. Jennifer and Ben just moved to the city and are staying with Jacob until she gets a job and a place of her own.”
Oh. That makes a lot more sense now. So he didn’t cheat on anyone? Jen is his sister? Ben is his nephew? I try sorting all this out in my head, but I don’t want to stop quarreling for some reason. Perhaps it’s the sense of empowerment that I get from yelling at Juliet. No, that’s not it. I won’t admit to myself, but I know that the underlying purpose of this argument is that I’m trying to find a reason not to be with him.
“Why does he leave early from every date, then?”
“Because he has to babysit his nephew while his sister is out interviewing and looking at apartments. That’s why he doesn’t come into work until the afternoon.”
With every answer she gives me, the realization of what’s going on strikes me even harder, and my chest compresses.
"Well, why isn’t a guy like him already married?” I’m trying to come up with every excuse I can, and I slowly realize what I’m doing.
