The Realm of You: A Novel

by Amanda Richardson

  “I should go,” he says, staring at my lips. I pull away in agreement, nodding.

  “I need to go home and change for the party you’re not having,” I joke, and he smiles. “Can you give the van key back to Darcy please?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answers, saluting me and taking the key from my hand. His finger brushes my palm, and it sends an electric shock through my arm. I pull away.

  “Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you later.” I stick my hands in my pockets, where they are safe, and turn to walk away, headed for my car.

  “Hey, Marlin?” Sebastian calls out. His voice is lighthearted, and when I turn around, he’s crossing his arms and watching me with a raised eyebrow. “Thank you for today. I’ll never forget it.” With that, he reaches down to his wheels and turns himself around. I watch him as he wheels himself up the ramp and into the retreat.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  PRESENT

  I fling the millionth dress onto my bed and sigh. I have absolutely no clothes—nothing that feels deserving of Sebastian’s last night. I have to admit that I may be playing an unfair card here—I want to look sexy, to remind him of sex, but in addition to that, I need to look professional. It’s a fine line.

  The powerful looks we shared today give me hope for the future. The past doesn’t even matter to me anymore. The old Sebastian is irrelevant. The life we had in our dreams… unimportant, because although it led me here, it’s not our life.

  This is our life, and I have to take it by the reigns and make damn sure that Sebastian sticks around. We might actually have a chance to be happy. I just have to convince him of all of this without coming off as crazy.

  How do I convey all of that with a dress?

  After much hemming and hawing, I choose a red, button-up dress with a tie belt. It’s simple, classy, professional, and if I unbutton the top two buttons, incredibly sexy. I pair the dress with gold sandals. I throw my hair up into a loose twist at the nape of my neck, and I finish the look off with a dab of blush and an application of red lipstick.

  I can’t help but fidget the whole car ride to the retreat, my nerves frazzled. I have no idea what to expect tonight. The five-minute drive seems to take forever, and when I finally pull into the parking lot, the sun is setting, and I have to take ten deep breaths to calm myself down.

  I grab my purse and walk into the retreat, holding my head up high. I’m not nervous, I say to myself. The colorful lobby is decorated with balloons, and as I walk down the hallway, I see Cecelia carrying a cake into the recreational room. I follow her in, but it’s empty.

  “Where is everyone?” I check my phone. 6:55 p.m. “I thought the party started at seven?”

  She sighs. “We’re running a bit behind. Sebastian is with the doctor, and once he’s done, he knows to come here. Darcy and Emma got held up with a new patient. Checked herself in today… bit of a nightmare.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Is Sebastian okay?” I ask, trying to mask the worry in my voice.

  She nods and gives me a dirty look. “He’s fine. Routine stuff.”

  “Okay.” I breathe a sigh of relief and look around. Balloons… so many balloons. And there’s a bar, but I only see soda. Of course, I remind myself, it’s a psychiatric hospital. Tonight of all nights, I could’ve used a drink. A television and pool table make up the rest of the furniture.

  “I’m just going to bring in the table for chips. Everyone should be here soon.”

  “Do you need help?” I offer. Anything to burn off some of this nervous energy…

  “I’m good,” she says curtly.

  I nod, and just as I turn around, the small piano catches my eye. I’ve seen it a few times before. Patients play it every now and then. I set my purse down and walk over to the bench, taking a seat.

  Before I know what I’m doing, my fingers start to fly across the keys, and Ave Maria fills the medium-sized room. I get lost in the song, and I have to bite my lower lip to keep from crying. The last time I played this song was with Sebastian. I’m suddenly overcome with emotion, bit instead of crying, I close my eyes and play my heart out. Each note fills me in a different way, and pretty soon, I’m playing the last part, my eyes watery, my heart full. When I finish, I let my chin fall to my chest. One single tear slips down my cheek.

  “Ave Maria. My favorite.”

  I whip around, and Sebastian is leaning against the doorframe. Everything about him is different. For one, he’s standing. He has crutches, but still. He’s upright. Second, his hair is short and neat. Third, his face is shaved. He looks so handsome in a white button-down and black slacks. I feel my jaw drop.

  “Look who’s not in a wheelchair,” I say, standing. I walk over to him. My smile is so wide, I feel like my lips might fall off. He just smirks and nods, mirroring my smile. I’ve forgotten how much taller he is than me.

  “Darcy is letting me walk around in these tonight. I just had an appointment with the doctor. The bones are healed, but I’m supposed to take it easy.”

  I nod. “And you clean up nice,” I say, my voice quiet.

  “As do you, Ms. Winters.” His voice is smooth, and if it weren’t for the dark circles underneath his eyes, I’d have never guessed he was a patient here. It’s miraculous what a haircut and shave will do. He reaches out and touches my dress, the part on my shoulder, and I suck in an audible breath of air at the contact. “I like this color on you.”

  “It’s an old dress,” I say, brushing him off.

  He doesn’t say anything, and he also doesn’t remove his hand. Instead, he takes it and traces it up my shoulder, and then up my neck, finally resting on my cheek. He strokes my skin there for a beat, and I have to close my eyes. Surely, he can hear my heart pounding. He must… it’s beating a thousand beats per second. I swallow and look up, and he’s watching me raptly.

  “Sebastian, I—”

  “Can I paint you?” he asks, his voice soft and vulnerable—desperate. He’s afraid I’ll say no.

  “Wh-what?”

  “After the party. I’ve wanted to paint you since that day at the lake, with the sun… Please.”

  I stare at him with my mouth open, and I try not to get distracted by the way his eyes are tracing my lips. Is that why he wasn’t interested in painting the nude woman from earlier? Because he wanted to paint me?

  “Sure. Yeah. I mean… it is the last thing on your list.”

  “Almost the last thing.”

  I laugh. “Right. Okay, if I do this for you, will you promise to tell me what number seven is?”

  “Of course,” he says, his voice so earnest it startles me.

  Just then, Cecelia, Darcy, Emma, Lily, Mr. Kringle, and a man I don’t recognize come walking in, and when they see Sebastian, everyone starts to yell.

  “This was supposed to be a surprise!” Darcy starts, anguish filling her voice.

  Sebastian pulls away from me, and I already miss the warmth he created by standing so close. He limps over to the group, his movements still a bit awkward.

  “What are you talking about?” he jokes, giving her a lopsided smile and embracing her in a hug. “Thank you, Darc.”

  “Well, that was anticlimactic,” Cecelia says, harrumphing and making her way in with a small folding table and a bowl of chips.

  Emma comes over to me and hugs me. “You look gorgeous,” she says, taking my hands. I do a little spin.

  “Thanks, love. You look great as well.”

  “Oh, Marlin, this is Jeb. Jeb, this is Marlin.”

  Jeb walks over, and I shake his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” Both in this life and the other one. He’s tall, with a scruffy beard, blond hair, and icy-blue eyes.

  “Same with you. How’s Vermont treating you?” he asks, sticking his hands in his pockets.

  “It’s great!” I chirp, feeling suddenly very comfortable. Just as I’m about to ask about his job, Sebastian walks over and embraces Jeb in a tight hug.

  “Thanks for coming
,” Sebastian says, his face taut with apprehension.

  “Of course, dude. It’s great, tomorrow is a new day.” Jeb claps him on the back, and Sebastian smiles. His eyes find mine.

  “You sound like her,” he says, smirking.

  “Hey man, whatever works.” Jeb puts an arm around Sebastian and leads him off to the chip table.

  “They used to be best friends,” Emma explains, watching them closely. “About a year ago, Sebastian had a meltdown and pushed Jeb away. Nearly broke his heart, let me tell you. This is progress.” I don’t say anything. Instead, I watch the two men with Emma, and I can’t help but feel nostalgic for the other life—the one where the four of us were all good friends. The one that doesn’t exist. “Sebastian looks good. Haircut, shave, no wheelchair… it’s like he’s a new person.”

  My lips form a tight smile. “I hope so.”

  “Where’d you take him today? My mom said you took him up in a helicopter yesterday? My god, Marlin. How’d you swing that one?” She nudges me with her shoulder.

  I laugh. “I had to agree to go on a date with my boss’s nephew, who is awful. He took us up in the news copter. And today I took him to New York City. We went to the MoMA and saw Starry Night.” I don’t mention the nudist colony. I have a feeling Darcy wouldn’t approve.

  Emma blows out a loud breath of air. “Right. His Van Gogh tattoo.” She looks over at me, but I don’t meet her gaze. I know she’ll be able to see right through me. “You must really care about him,” she says quietly.

  I nod. “I do.”

  We’re quiet for a minute, and then Emma pushes herself off of the wall. “Well, I should go help my mom. I told her not to check up on Sebastian tonight during her final rounds. You know… in case you guys want to… hang out.”

  I gasp. “Oh my god, Emma. I’m not a hussy.”

  She laughs and starts to walk away. “Well, just in case…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, and I feel my cheeks redden. The silent approval from Darcy and Emma mean everything to me.

  A second later, a warm hand touches my lower back, and I jump.

  “Whoa, jumpy much?” Sebastian teases, a Fanta in his hand. The coincidental irony is not lost on me. He must see me staring at his soda, because he shrugs and takes a sip, leaning against his crutches. “You know, I used to hate soda. Rots your teeth,” he says casually.

  I straighten. “That’s what I always say!” I exclaim.

  “But lately, Fanta has been sounding really good.”

  “Hmm.” I look at him seriously, remembering that day at Wendy’s. I decide to reply with a joke. “Maybe you’re diabetic.”

  He matches my serious demeanor. “That’s not funny. My dad’s diabetic.”

  My cheeks flush. I reach up and put my hand over my mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I had no id—”

  He bellows with laughter, and it takes me a second to realize that he’s joking. “I’m kidding! Your face…” He bends in half, laughing.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Well, at least you have a sense of humor now,” I reply, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “I always had a sense of humor,” he says, brushing me off. “It was just hidden underneath layers of… I don’t know. Layers of discontent, I think.”

  “So you’re content now?” I ask, hopeful.

  He cocks his head from side to side. I can’t help but stare at his chiseled face—the angular jaw, the sharp nose and chin… now that they’re not hidden underneath a pile of hair.

  “Maybe not content, but I’m getting there.”

  “That’s so great to hear, Sebastian. I’m so glad.”

  “You helped.” His eyes wander from his hands and then slowly up to my face. I feel the blood rushing in my ears as he watches my every move. I meet his stare, and if there wasn’t a whole room of people here, he might’ve kissed me. I can see it in his eyes, and the way they search my face for permission. “Do you want to dance?” Without saying anything else, he stands straighter and leans his crutches against the wall.

  It’s the first time I’m even realizing there’s music, but once the words are out of his mouth, the song comes into focus. It’s a slow Adele melody. Emma and Jeb are dancing, so at least we won’t look too out of place.

  “Sure,” I answer, taking his hand. He squeezes it once and leads us to the center of the room, hobbling slightly. I ignore Emma’s wink and Jeb’s smirk. This is just a dance between a volunteer medical helper and her patient on his last night. Nothing unusual to see here…

  Sebastian takes my right hand and places it on his left shoulder. I instinctually put my other arm around his waist, and he mirrors my movements, placing his hand on the small of my back. With a single subtle movement, he pulls me in closer, and I feel my chest explode with anticipation. Our bodies are close now, and I can feel the heat radiating off of him.

  Without realizing what I’m doing, I lean forward a bit and rest the side of my face on his shoulder, closing my eyes. The scent of vanilla and peppermint is overwhelmingly familiar. Even though we were only together the one time in my dream, I swear I can still smell him sometimes. And right now, he’s real.

  “Where are you headed tomorrow?” I ask. My voice is unsteady. I’m feeling everything, all at once, and it’s overpowering.

  “Probably back to my place. I have a house down the road from the West Dummerston covered bridge.”

  I don’t reply. Instead, I squeeze my eyes closed tightly, never wanting this song to be over, never wanting this night to end, not wanting this feeling between us to disappear… After tomorrow, he’s on his own, and there’s no telling what might happen. I’m not entirely confident that he won’t try to kill himself again.

  The song ends, and we pull apart slowly. I open my eyes, and they slowly travel up to his. The look on his face nearly kills me. His eyes are so emotive, and his face is so responsive. He’s feeling all of it, too. Whatever connection we had in my dream is real. This is reality, and Sebastian is reciprocating my feelings in real life.

  This all might actually work. It has to work. He has feelings for me. That means he won’t do anything stupid. Right?

  “Let’s go,” he says, bending down and whispering in my ear. “I have to paint you right this very second, or I might implode.”

  “But, everyone is still here, and—”

  “It has to be now.”

  Before I can say anything, he’s leading me discreetly out the door and towards room nine, his gait unsteady. He doesn’t let go of my hand. I wonder if he needs his crutches, but his urgency is contagious.

  I follow him without saying a word.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  PRESENT

  I keep my head down as we duck out of the recreational room. I’m thankful that Emma mentioned we’d have privacy tonight. I’m sure we’re breaking all of the rules. In fact, I know we’re breaking one major rule: no visitors in the patient’s room outside of visiting hours.

  I push that entire fact aside and bite the inside of my lip as Sebastian pulls me behind him. His quick-paced steps echo my quickening heartbeat. I let him pull me into his room, and once we’re inside, I turn around and close the door. When I face him again, he’s already ripping through his supplies. He begins to lay paints down on his workspace—canvas, brushes, oils… he’s so fervent in his movements. His passion is so intense that it’s erotic.

  “How do you want me?” I ask, looking around. I sit down on the bed. My voice is unsure, and I know I look absurd sitting so stiffly. Relax, Marlin.

  “Actually, can you sit in that chair?” he asks, pointing to the armchair by the door. I hop up and scoot it over to the window, close to where he’s setting the easel up. He flicks a desk light on, illuminating the canvas, and walks over to the room light switch, dimming the lights significantly. I swallow nervously.

  “Legs crossed?” I ask, moving one leg in preparation to cross it. “Or flat?”

  He’s staring at his workspace, lost in thought, and he spins around,
studying me completely artistically. The eroticism is gone—he’s just Van Gogh with his muse now.

  “Be natural. However you’re comfortable.”

  That doesn’t help me at all, but I adjust myself on the chair, wondering how the hell I normally sit comfortably. I decide to cross my legs, and I drape my arms lazily on the arms of the chair. I let my body slide down a bit, and finally I feel normal.

  “Good,” he says quietly, unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t move.”

  I couldn’t even if I tried. He removes his shirt and tosses it to the ground. My nails dig into the fabric of the chair. I try to keep my face passive, but it’s hard when he removes his shoes, standing before me, in the dark, in only his trousers—my god, if he removes those, I can’t say for sure how I would react.

  He walks over to his dresser, which happens to be right next to me, and my eyes follow his bare chest as he searches for an old T-shirt. When he finds it, he throws it on quickly. His eyes travel down to me, and I quickly look away, keeping my face straight and my mouth neutral.

  “Yes, you look…” he starts, walking over to me and kneeling. Now he’s eye level with me. “Can I take your hair down?” he asks, his voice quiet.

  I’m caught off guard. “Umm… sure.” I begin to reach up, but he places his hand over my arm and directs it back to the armrest.

  “Don’t move. You’re perfect. I’ll do it.”

  My arm is still burning from his touch when he reaches up and begins to feel for the bobby pins. I don’t say anything—I can’t—and I get a whiff of his deodorant. Ah, so that’s the peppermint. I inhale covertly, breathing him in. His warm hands reach around, feeling my skull with the pads of his fingers. He begins to pull the pins out, one at a time, and I feel my hair falling over my shoulder, tendril by tendril.

  My whole body begins to shake under the indirect intimacy, and I close my eyes to calm myself down. I feel him stop, and I snap my eyes open. He’s watching me with concern.