The Permanence of Pain

by Desiree Lafawn

  Do you like sushi?

  What a bizarre question to get from a wrong number. I had all my clients set up as contacts, so I was fairly sure this was a wrong number. And it couldn't be Richard because even though his random texts had slowed down and all but disappeared, I had changed his contact name to "Needle Dick." No, this was a stranger.

  I'm sorry, you have the wrong number, I texted back. It was unfortunate though, I liked sushi.

  Ok, do you like sushi, though? The answer amused me, even if it was a wrong number. This person had a personality for sure.

  Who is this? I wanted to know for the simple fact that I would wish them well on their journey to find their sushi date.

  Well, you, Cinderella, can call me Prince Charming.

  I almost dropped the phone—it was Beck, I was almost certain. I looked up at TJ, who was engrossed in a sales call exactly like he should be. He certainly wasn't paying attention to my embarrassment. My face turned red at the thought of Beck, and the thought of why he nicknamed me Cinderella in the first place.

  Beck?

  Do you like sushi? The reply was instant. A thrill shot through me at the thought of Beck texting me, but then I remembered, I hadn't paid him for the tattoo, and I certainly hadn't given him my number. I had been way too overwhelmed with the way he kissed me breathless to remember such niceties.

  How did you get my number?

  You filled out the medical and release of responsibility forms with Cody. You are in my office files—and my heart. The word "heart" was replaced with a heart emoji.

  That sounds like a breach of confidentiality to me.

  You can complain to management if you want. I'd be careful though, I heard he steals panties.

  His last text brought a laugh bubbling from my throat, and TJ, who was on the phone with a client mouthed "you ok?" and went back to his call after I nodded my head yes.

  Yes, I love sushi.

  Sushi tonight? I'll pick you up?

  If he had swiped my phone number from the files then he for sure had access to my address. I don't know why I would even be surprised. I could see Beck again. There were so many things I wanted to know about him, I didn't even know where I would start. As I looked down at my phone again I got a glimpse of my tattoo peeking out from under my sleeve. It was still in the healing stages, scabby and glistening with the salve I had spread dutifully over it, like I had been instructed.

  Seven thirty? That would give me time for a shower and some primping. Holy shit, what would I wear?

  Deal. I'll wear sexy man panties. You know, in case you want to pay me back for the last time.

  Oh my God, he had better be kidding. Hopefully he was, but I don't know, I didn't know him that well—anything was possible. I did the mental math, I had about four hours left until quitting time, and then I had to haul ass home to get ready for a date that could, considering how the last meeting ended up, quite possibly end in sex. I really owed it to myself to get a good primping. Also, Beck was picking me up at my house. Would he want to come in after? Did I have wine? Was my house clean enough for company? Shoot, I probably still had my blankets and pillows piled up on the end of the couch from the night before. Since the couch was now my bed, I didn’t put everything away every day anymore. Nope, that was not enough time. I was going to do something I never did.

  “TJ,” I said as I slung my tote bag over my shoulder and then patted the locked top drawer of my desk. “Do you have your key?”

  “Yeah, Boss Lady,” he said as he jingled his key ring that had his car keys, apartment keys, and also the only existing copy of the smaller key that unlocked my desk drawer. “You have somewhere to be?”

  “I’m leaving the rest of today to you. Don’t forget to check the book. Every order, remember? I’m taking a half day.” A half day, I hardly ever took a sick day, much less an impromptu half day for no reason.

  TJ’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Regina do you have a hot date tonight?” A small smile flirted around the corners of his mouth but turned into a full grin when I didn’t say no right away. I couldn’t help it, the smile was contagious.

  “Maybe,” was all I said as I left the office.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Shower, shave, house clean, hair and makeup perfect. It was 7 o’clock exactly and I had a half hour to finish getting dressed before Beck came to pick me up. I checked myself out in the full-length mirror of my bedroom one last time before putting on the short black bodycon dress I had picked out for the evening. My bra was strapless, smooth black satin cups and matching panties with just a slight hint of lace at the waistband. They matched, sure, but they were simple undergarments. I didn’t want to seem like I was trying too hard. Besides, I didn’t want to wear any of my expensive ones if he was just going to destroy them like he did the last time.

  Pulling the slinky dress over my head, I let it slide down over my hips, smoothing it with my hands as it went. I had never worn this dress before, and I had bought it on a whim. Old Regina knew she would never wear it, so it went immediately into the back of the closet. Old Regina didn’t have hot dates to plan for, though, new Regina had no trouble pulling the scandalous black garment from its back of the closet coffin. New Regina looked like a stone cold fox.

  A little extra leg never hurt anyone, I thought to myself. Now where the hell are my shoes?

  I had those damn stilettos out earlier when I was digging through the closet, I knew, because I had taken them to the first floor and put them by the door right after taking the price tag off of them—another impulse purchase—but there was only one there now. Maybe I had kicked it around when I had been cleaning earlier. Fifteen minutes of frantic searching later and I still had no damn shoe. My only other black heels were round toed, sensible Mary Janes. That would not work with my smoking hot mini dress. What the hell. The sound of the doorbell screeching through the first floor had me almost keeling over. Don’t tell me he was here already?

  Why the hell did Beck have to be early of all things? Panting from the search for the still lost shoe, I swung the door open and immediately forgot everything I had been doing before that moment. The hell with going out, dinner was standing right on my porch, looking down at me with dangerous eyes that said he also thought I might be good enough to eat.

  Black on black, dark slacks and a black short sleeved button down that clung to his body like it had been painted on. Not so tight that it looked small, but the sleeves sloped against the swell of his biceps and capped out snug against his upper arm. His dark hair was combed back and I had to look up to see his face, his deep brown eyes meeting mine before I had to avert my gaze. I stared at a bit of tattoo that crept out from under his open collar, transfixed while my brain fritzed out at how damn good he looked standing there, and I realized that he had been speaking.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said, can I come in, Regina?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered truthfully. Beck was making me stupid. How slack brained would I get if he walked into my house?

  Embarrassed, I turned to the side to invite him into my small entryway. I couldn’t go anywhere without my damn shoe, so he had to come inside.

  “You smell good, Regina.” The words were gentle enough, but the look in his eyes was hot enough to light a barbecue.

  “You look like sex walking,” I said before I could stop myself. What was it about Beck that caused my thoughts to run away from me like that?” To top it off, that dimple flashed again and, holy shit, I could forget my own damn name looking at that smile. He knew it too. He just stood there in the entryway, not giving me any room to move or to breathe. Dear God, we hadn’t even left yet, and I was ready to melt into the floor. A date? I couldn’t even get through a casual greeting with Beck without thinking of sex.

  “I’m almost ready, but I can’t find my other shoe. Which is stupid really, because I had them both like a half hour ago.” I held up the one shoe in my possession and he raised one eyebrow at the spiky black pat
ent heel.

  “That’s a hot shoe, Princess.” His nostrils flared a little, but that was the only sign that he had any opinion at all about the style of shoe I had picked.

  “Just trying to make up for the height difference, Beck.”

  “You sure you aren’t trying to turn me on?” Hell yes, I was trying to turn him on, and hopefully it was working because he was turning me on just by standing there, just by taking up all of the space in front of me I was already hard-wired to go. Dinner? What was that? I didn’t need to eat, I just needed Beck and his huge hands on me again. The rougher the better, please. I couldn’t say any of that to him though, so I swallowed down all of my rising passion instead.

  “I hate to ask, but can you help me look? It might have gotten kicked under something when I was cleaning earlier. I’m going to check the bathroom and the kitchen. I have no idea why my shoe would be in there, but of course, if I don’t look that is where it will be, right?”

  “I’ll check in here then,” he said, disappearing around the corner and into the front room. I should have remembered then. I should have remembered the thing that I wanted to talk to him about, but how could I have ever known the shit storm that was about to go down. The answer was that I couldn’t have, so I was wholly unprepared for what was going to happen when I came back empty-handed from the other room.

  I found him standing still as a statue in the center of the living room, staring at the painting of Beauty Sleeping that I had placed above the couch. Ramrod straight, so tense I was afraid to approach him, hands balled into fists at his sides. He was angry. I could tell that and I was only looking at the back of him. I could tell by the set of his shoulders, the wide stance of his legs, and the whiteness of his knuckles as he clenched his hands so tightly.

  Why would he be angry looking at a painting that he made himself? He was the artist, wasn’t he? He must have heard me enter the room, even as quiet as I was in my bare feet.

  “Where did you get it?”

  Oh, yes, he was angry. Each word was bitten off and spit out of his mouth individually. I didn’t understand, what had I done that was so wrong?

  “What is wrong with you? Why are you angry that I have this painting? I’ve had it for years. I got it right after I bought this house. You painted it, didn’t you? It wasn’t signed so I never knew the artist, but the paintings in Gallery B are so similar in style. I was going to ask you about it but—” He moved so fast I wasn’t prepared.

  “Get rid of it. Get it out of here.” The words were practically a growl, and he put one foot on the couch to lever himself up and take the painting down from the wall. How dare he? How fucking dare he think that he could walk in here and rip something I loved so much down from my wall like it was trash?

  “What are you doing?” Without even thinking I leaped onto his back and wrapped my arms around his neck, shrieking like a harpy. It was like jumping onto a concrete wall, I could barely hold on, but I must have surprised him enough that he lost his balance as he was grabbing the painting and he, and I, and Beauty Sleeping came tumbling to the ground.

  He landed on top of me, and I swear to God that must have been what being pinned underneath a vehicle felt like. I couldn’t breathe, all of the air was knocked from my lungs and stars exploded in front of my eyes. I couldn’t stop the scream, and I don’t think I would have tried if I could. Angry and frustrated and in actual physical pain—what in the hell was going on? This wasn’t a fun date at all.

  As soon as he heard me scream, Beck rolled off of me immediately. The angry light was gone from his eyes as he ran his hands up and down my arms and legs, checking for injuries, I assumed. “Are you ok? Regina, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Why would you jump on me like that?”

  “Why would I jump on you like that? How can you even ask me that, you lunatic? You ripped my favorite painting off the wall and—YOU BROKE HER!” And he did, the bottom left corner of the canvas was smashed in, probably from ramming into the ground after we fell. It may have been my fault too, but I wasn’t willing to take any blame at the moment. I felt betrayed. Angry tears clogged my throat as I clutched my prize to my chest; cradling the painting like the precious treasure it was. How dare he?

  “Regina, calm down and let me explain.”

  “You shut up. I’m so mad at you right now. Is this how you treat every customer who buys a painting? You go into their house and steal them off the walls?” It sounded ridiculous even to me, but it didn’t matter. My date was ruined, my vision of this perfect man was ruined, and I was pretty sure my hair and makeup were a complete mess, along with Beauty Sleeping. “What is your problem?”

  I scooted across the carpet on my butt over to the opposite wall. There was a recliner there, but I had no energy left after that mad scramble, so I just sat there on the floor resting my back against the chair, looking at Beck with what I knew was accusation.

  “Fair enough.” Beck stayed on the floor as well and ran his hands through his hair in defeat. Stretching his legs out in front of him, he rested his head back against the seat cushions of the couch we had just fallen from. Closing his eyes briefly, I got a good look at the thickness of his neck, his Adam’s apple moving slightly as he swallowed, getting ready to start his explanation. It had better be good because I was not in the mood.

  “Just so you know, I do not want to have sushi tonight anymore,” I said.

  “Yeah. Okay. Can you give me a minute to explain myself or are you going to go Xena on me and throw me out of the house?” He wasn’t making fun of me either, he was really asking. Begrudgingly, I nodded for him to continue, but I didn’t loosen my grip on the painting, not fully confident that he would try to snatch it away again.

  “First of all, that painting is garbage.”

  “False, she is beautiful and she is mine.” I shot back hotly. I would defend this painting till the death, not sure anymore why I was so attached besides the fact that he was so against it. I felt like Beauty needed someone in her corner, and that someone would be me.

  “No, I mean that painting was thrown away. Or was supposed to be thrown away.” Beck sighed and looked at the ceiling for a moment before he continued. “I painted Beauty Sleeping almost twenty years ago. I wasn’t even a professional painter then. I had just started my tattoo apprenticeship, I was just a punk kid with emotional problems, and I didn’t know how to deal. That painting was one of my ways to deal.”

  “Was she a lover?”

  His head snapped down and he looked at me then, really looked me right in the eye like he was debating even telling me the rest. I resolved not to interrupt anymore.

  “Ew. No, she was not a lover, but I did love her very much. Beauty Sleeping is Bailey, my sister. Bailey my sister before she became Bailey the Beast. Let me ask you something since you are so attached to the painting. What do you see when you look at it? You say you’ve had it for years—barring me asking you where the hell you got it, considering it was supposed to be trash, what do you see when you really look at it?”

  I had spent a lot of time really looking at the painting, especially those many lonely nights I had spent wailing into a wine bottle and passing out. I knew my answer almost before he had even asked the question.

  “I see a beautiful girl at peace in sleep. And don’t shake your head at me, Beck Gallagher, I’m not done talking so don’t give me your attitude. I see the wheelchair in the background on the other side of the bed. I see the multitudes of pill bottles on the nightstand, one of them is even knocked over on its side in the background. I see the closet door partially open and clothes on the floor and spilling out of dresser drawers. I see piles of books on the carpet, and I see the dark shadowy area under the bed—is that where the monsters stayed? At least that was where they stayed when she was sleeping. Because even though the entire space around her was chaos, her face is calm and smiling as she dreams. You know what I see in that painting, Beck? I see that no matter how full of shit the rest of my life is, how crazy my surroundings are
, I still have that small space of time where I can sleep, and life can be as I need it to be. So don’t fucking act like you are so high and mighty, art is relative, and that is what I see. So, you tell me something now. Why do you hate it so much? You painted it. What do you see?” I was so close to crying again, and irritated that this man could make me admit, out loud again, that my life was basically shit and I was barely hanging on to my sanity. Jesus, could he dig at my sore spots a little harder?

  My chest still hurt from being squashed under Beck, and my arms and legs were becoming sore as well. Beck had brought his knees up in front of him as I’d been talking and laid his forearms down across them. He laid his head down briefly on his forearms before he answered me.

  “I see some of those same things as you do, and more. But you have to remember, I was just a twenty-year-old kid, watching my sister fall apart in front of me. She’s younger, you know? Big brothers are supposed to protect their baby sisters, but I couldn’t save her from the accident that paralyzed her. And then I couldn’t save her from the opiate addiction she ended up with either. Do you know much about addiction, Regina?”

  I had to admit, I didn’t, but I was afraid to speak and interrupt his story, so I only shook my head a little bit.

  “It doesn’t just destroy people, it destroys families and friendships. It destroys lives. I painted her like that.” He gestured to the painting I had finally let go of and set on the carpet next to me, leaning against the wall like a slightly crumpled prize. “In the beginning she was in so much pain. She couldn’t get around and she couldn’t’ do anything without help. She was so angry and depressed and hated everything. She lashed out at Mom and Dad, me, all of her friends. She was only relaxed and looking like herself when she was sleeping. I only saw my real sister again when she was unconscious.” His breath caught on those last words, and I finally got a glimpse of just how painful the memories were for him. “I basically watched my baby sister dissolve in front of me and become someone I didn’t even recognize anymore. Definitely something I didn’t even know how to handle, I was just a kid, too. That painting, that painting was me trying to get rid of my hurt the only way I knew how. Like, maybe if I painted her the way she was before, then she could come back to it someday.” The raw pain in his voice tugged me to my feet, and I was across the room and kneeling beside him before I could question the reason why I was doing it. Wrapping my arms around the man curled up into himself in front of my couch, I squeezed as hard as I could. This time it was my chin that rested on his bent head as I asked, “Did she get better?”