Heartache

by Danielle Allen

  “It would be worth the risk.”

  I shook my head. “I’d fuck it up. And I love her too much to put her through that. She deserves to be happy. She deserves better than me.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re not trying to risk getting hurt,” Malik pointed out.

  “She gets to live her life and have a chance to be happy and I don’t run the risk of getting hurt.”

  “But look at you, man. You’re hurt now.”

  He’s got me there.

  Malik was quiet and I stared down at my beer.

  “I just keep thinking… I should’ve… I don’t know. If I had it to do all over again, I would do it differently.”

  “Sounds like you miss her.”

  “Of course I miss her. But that’s life. How does the saying go? You live, you love, you lose.”

  Malik slammed his beer bottle against the wooden bar top. “You live, you love, you lose? What kind of fucked up philosophy is that?”

  I looked over at him and shook my head. “My life, man. It’s fucked up.”

  Malik laughed, “The only thing that’s fucked up is that philosophy. Get a new one.”

  I gave him an amused smile. “Okay, well what would you suggest?”

  He took a long gulp of his beer before he looked at me with a serious expression. “Don’t lose what you have holding on to the past.”

  I swallowed hard.

  “The birthday boy is here. Who’s ready to do shots?” Brad yelled, dropping his arms around us and whistling at the bartender.

  Don’t lose what you have holding on to the past, I thought as I declined the shot glass that was thrust in my face.

  Because it was a Thursday and Malik had to work in the morning, we only stayed at the bar for a couple of hours before we called it a night.

  “Where’s your ride?” Malik asked Brad on our way to our cars. We had both parked across the street.

  “She’s pulling up now,” Brad said with a smile as a blue car coasted to a stop right in front of us.

  Waving, she rolled down the passenger side window. “Hi guys! It’s been awhile.”

  “Hey Jillian,” Malik and I said in unison.

  After saying goodbye, they pulled off and we crossed the street.

  “I thought he was still doing whatever he was doing with Hannah,” I said.

  “Me too. And didn’t he say if he ever mentioned seeing Jillian again, punch him in the face?”

  I gave a short laugh. “Yeah, he did.”

  “I guess the heart wants what the heart wants,” Malik said as we stood beside our cars.

  I got the feeling that he wasn’t talking about Brad and Jillian anymore.

  He opened his car door as he continued, “You have to let go of the past if you want any kind of future.”

  “I hear you.”

  “Yeah, but are you listening?”

  We said goodbye and I drove home. As I pulled up in front of my darkened house, a cold chill ran through me. I reached for my phone and called Bianca’s number.

  “We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again. Thank you. Goodbye,” the operator’s robotic voice taunted me.

  I felt my gut twisting. Beating my hand against the steering wheel repeatedly, I let out a growl. Breathing harshly, I stared down the quiet street.

  I fucked up. I pushed her away too many times. And now she’s gone. She’s gone and I did it. It hurts like hell, but what am I supposed to do?

  I heard Malik’s voice in my head.

  You have to let go of the past if you want any kind of future.

  That deep burn in my chest flared up when thoughts of Bianca mixed with thoughts of the past.

  God, how am I supposed to let go?

  Closing my eyes, I sighed, letting my head fall back against the headrest. My phone vibrated in my hand.

  Looking down, my eyes widened.

  Maybe it’s a sign, I thought, putting the phone to my ear.

  “Hey, Elizabeth.”

  “Hi Roman, how are you?”

  I exhaled sharply, running a hand down my face. “Do you have any plans this weekend?”

  “Not in particular. Is everything okay?”

  “Can I fly out there so we can talk?”

  _____

  July: Depression

  I thought resolving my issues with Elizabeth and William would help. I thought finally processing my anger, frustration and hurt over the whole Tia situation would help. I even thought making a failed attempt to squash the beef with Benjamin would help. And while it did help me let go of those painful parts of my past, it also made me realize how much of my life I’d wasted holding on to that hurt, that anger and that pain.

  “I lost the most important thing to me because I was holding on to the past,” I muttered, dropping one of the brushes Bianca gave me into a jar of water, cleaning it off.

  I didn’t lose her. I didn’t give her the opportunity to be mine to lose.

  She didn’t walk away from me. I pushed her away.

  She told me she had trust issues, but she trusted me. And I told her I didn’t trust her.

  The two things she said she needed in any relationship were honesty and trust. And I fucked both of those up.

  What is wrong with me?

  I did this.

  This is my fault.

  I got up from the stool and looked at the bullshit I painted. I was unimpressed and for the third week, I was uninspired.

  Walking across the hall, I pulled off my clothes and got in the bed. Closing my eyes, I hoped to sleep off the pain that had taken permanent residence in my chest. I no longer felt the sting of betrayal in my heart. I no longer felt the overwhelming cloud of guilt that loomed over me. I no longer felt the hurt of my past that dictated so much of my adult life. I had made amends with my past.

  And while that’s good, I now have to live with the fact that because it took me so long to come to terms with my past, I lost the woman that I love.

  _____

  August: Acceptance

  “I was just listening to them on my run,” I replied, opening the front door to my house.

  “Well then come out with us to Brown’s Island tonight. This is the last concert of the summer. Coury’s friend has extra tickets. We could even pick you up.”

  I was quiet for a minute, weighing the options.

  “And we hadn’t all been out since Easy’s birthday. It’ll be a chill, low-key event. It won’t be that crowded in the VIP tent.”

  I guess the VIP tent wouldn’t be so bad, I decided, letting my love of music overtake my desire to be alone.

  “Okay, yeah. I’ll go. I’m going to meet you there though in case I want to duck out early.”

  “Cool! Okay, meet us at the stone bridge and we’ll walk over together. See you in an hour.”

  I showered, shaved, and changed into jeans and a green polo shirt. Traffic was heavy on I-95, but I was able to go the back way to get to the parking lot.

  “Hey, I’m here. Where are you?” I stood by the stone bridge looking around. There were a good amount of people out.

  “We’re in traffic,” Brad replied, answering Malik’s phone. “And you know how Malik drives so this could take a minute.”

  I laughed. “No problem. I’ll just chill by the bridge until you guys get here.”

  Disconnecting the call, I took a seat on a large stone bench. It wasn’t comfortable at all, but it would have to do. I stared at the James River and got so lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear the woman sit down next to me until she laughed.

  “Sorry, don’t mind me. The traffic has taken my friends as hostages apparently.” She lifted her phone and then placed it into her lap.

  I smiled politely before looking back over the water.

  The silence had barely settled between us when she asked, “Who is she?”

  I turned and lo
oked at the woman with the long, dark hair and soft brown eyes. She wore a short dress with cowboy boots, which I thought was weird in the summertime, but she looked good. She was definitely a pretty woman.

  “Who is who?” I replied, feeling my eyebrows come together.

  “The girl that has you staring off into the water, looking like you lost your best friend.”

  Lady, you have no idea.

  I turned back and faced the water with a sigh.

  I am not entertaining this conversation.

  We were both quiet for a few minutes before she spoke again. “Must be some girl. What did you do?”

  “What makes you think I did something?” I asked, glancing at her.

  “Female intuition, my friend. Now what did you do? If you tell me what you did, I’ll tell you if the relationship is salvageable.”

  “No, thanks.”

  If Malik and them aren’t here in five minutes, I’m leaving.

  “Did you cheat?”

  “I would never cheat on her,” I answered automatically, defensively. I didn’t even fully understand why I answered the question.

  “Did you hit her, steal from her, abuse her in any way?”

  “Hell no.” I gave her a look.

  Damn, what type of men does she date?

  “And you love her.”

  My heart rate increased as it did every time I thought about my feelings for Bianca.

  Exhaling roughly, I ran my hands down my face. “Listen, I don’t know you. I’m just trying to sit here and wait for my friends to get here.”

  She smiled, crinkling her nose like a rabbit. “You’re private. I get it. But I will tell you this. If she feels the same way about you as you do about her, then it’s salvageable.”

  “Listen, I’ve made peace with the situation. What’s done is done. I’ve accepted it.”

  I fucked up. I own it. But it’ll be okay because B’s going to be happy. And her happiness is what’s most important.

  “Take my word for it,” the woman said with a wink. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she looked down at the phone in her lap. Picking it up quickly to read the message, she stood up. “Right on cue, my friends are here! Well, it was nice meeting you. Hope you enjoy the show.”

  “Thanks, you too.”

  Finally.

  “Yo!” Easy yelled.

  I turned in the direction of his voice just in time to see Courtney and the woman who was sitting beside me embrace.

  As soon as I realized that I was sitting next to Courtney’s friend, the one who was supposed to be getting us into the concert, I shot Malik a threatening look. He lifted his eyebrows and shrugged as if he had no idea why I was looking at him like that.

  _____

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Wearing one of the two Tom Ford suits I’d purchased upon arriving in New York, I awkwardly stood backstage waiting to be introduced to Sophia of SoHoCo. Although I appreciated the view of models in various stages of dress, I didn’t want the moment Sophia met me to be tarnished because I was checking them out.

  Instead, I checked my phone for any calls or emails I might have missed since the last time I’d checked.

  Nothing.

  I sighed and put my phone in my pocket. I looked up just in time.

  Charlotte Spence walked up with an eclectic looking woman in tow and gestured to me formally. “Sophia, this is—”

  “Roman Harper,” Sophia interrupted, her smile warming her face. She stretched out her hand and I took it, shaking it.

  “It’s an honor to meet you, Sophia.”

  “The honor is all mine. Let me show you where you’ll be sitting.”

  Following Sophia and Charlotte through a curtained area and out of a bright red door, we entered a space that had three rows of black chairs stretching down the sides of a long U-shaped runway. There were a few people milling around and several people already seated. But the very first thing I noticed was my painting hanging in the center of the back wall.

  “The models enter from this side and leave from that side,” Sophia explained, pointing in the direction of the back wall.

  “Right under your work, Roman,” Charlotte chimed in, seeming impressed.

  “Yes, it’s the focal point of the show. It’s what ties every piece together. It truly is inspired,” Sophia pointed out.

  It felt like I was dreaming. “Wow,” I breathed staring at my work.

  How did I get here?

  “This is… I don’t even know what to say. Thank you for this opportunity.”

  “This will be good for both of us, Roman. The fashion world will understand my inspiration and the art world will be better dressed.” She laughed lightly.

  I gave her an awestruck smile, still too blown away to joke around.

  “Well, I need to make sure everything is perfect for the show. But your seats are here. Best seats in the house!”

  “Thank you,” Charlotte and I said in unison.

  Sophia looked at me. “If you need anything, let me know. I’ll have my assistant come out and check on you. Depending on how things go for me, I’ll be in attendance at your show tonight.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  Sophia left and Charlotte and I took our seats. Over the next twenty minutes, Charlotte told me about the early buzz surrounding my exhibition that I was scheduled for after the fashion show.

  “People are really excited to see your follow up work, Roman. I didn’t expect you to have so many pieces done.”

  “I didn’t either, to be completely honest.”

  “I was worried that you’d arrive today with more with you. I’ve had my team work out a map so that each one of your pieces is highlighted. We would’ve had to redraw the map if you did anymore.”

  I gave a short laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t expect to complete the collection. But in addition to that, I’ve been working on a few ideas over the last month for my next collection.”

  “Good, good. Because for most of the summer you had me worried that you weren’t going to be able to produce anything from the way that you sounded over the phone. But you pulled it together. You should be proud.”

  I smiled at the praise. “Thanks.”

  She continued in a clipped tone, “So this will be over in approximately fifteen minutes. Fashion shows never take too long. So that’ll put us at five o’clock. You’ll have time to grab something to eat and then head over to Orchard Gallery for your exhibition at eight.”

  I nodded.

  As the lights dimmed and the last remaining seats were filled, loud pop-rock music started pulsating through the crowded room. With all of the people, the camera crews, the photographers, and the lights, it had started to get a little warm.

  I hope this doesn’t take long. And why is it so hot in here?

  The models started walking out and in each dress, I could see how Sophia used my color palate and paint splatter. I saw the use of sharp lines and soft curves in the designs that seemed to be modeled after the lines and curves I put on the canvas. But beyond that, I had no idea what I was looking at. None of the dresses seemed functional. I’m pretty sure I saw six ass cheeks and three pairs of nipples.

  Once the show was over, I congratulated Sophia and then Charlotte and I split up. She went straight to Orchard Gallery. And I went straight to my hotel room. I needed a burger and a shower.

  After ordering room service, I took a shower. The food arrived just as I wrapped myself in a towel.

  “Be right there!” I called out as I shuffled to the door.

  “Oh hi,” the hotel staffer said as her eyes traveled down my body.

  “How much do I owe you?” I asked, dipping my head a bit so I could catch her eye.

  Her face turned red instantly. “I’m sorry. Umm… it’s…” She dropped the papers that she had in her hand and they floated to the floor. She fell to her knees immediately, scrambling to pick up the receipts. “It’s this one,” she mumbled almost inaudibly, jumping to her feet and handing me
a receipt.

  I looked at it and then I gave her the twenty dollar bill in my hand. “Keep the change.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Really? That’s a ten dollar tip for a ten dollar burger.”

  “Yes.” I pulled my tray of food off of the cart. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you.” She put the money in her pocket and then smiled. “If you need anything at all. At all. Please don’t hesitate to call. I’ll be here all night. My name is Emma. Ask for me personally and I’ll come. Anytime.”

  “Okay thanks,” I said, as I started to close the door. She continued standing there, staring at me and it became increasingly awkward. “Okay… goodbye now.” I closed the door gently.

  I shook my head as I walked to the desk to eat my food. My stomach rumbled and after I took that first bite, I instantly felt better. It didn’t take long for me to finish.

  Standing in just my boxers, I looked at the options I brought along with me. It was not a formal event. I told Charlotte I wanted to keep it as close to casual as possible because I didn’t want to do the whole tux thing again. So my options were jeans and a nice button up or the other Tom Ford suit.

  “And yet another thing I would’ve run past B,” I muttered under my breath as I looked at the two options.

  On one hand, the jeans are casual. On the other hand, the suit is a good look. The jeans would be more comfortable. But the suit fits better with the collection.

  I glanced over at the clock and saw that it was seven o’clock.

  The suit it is.

  Getting dressed and rushing out of the door, I headed in the direction of Orchard Gallery. I checked my phone for any missed calls or emails.

  I had none.

  Walking slowly, I took in the city and I imagined living somewhere so different from Richmond.

  The plan was for me to end up here, I pointed out silently as I arrived at a small brick building. I was supposed to graduate from VCU and then move to New York City and throw myself into the art scene.

  “Charlotte?” I called as I walked into the space.

  I knew I was at the right place because my paintings were the only artwork being displayed. Each painting was positioned with two spotlights on it and a little plate with the name and description.