“Oh, I love this. This is Rika Ishikawa’s Aiko, isn’t it? I might not know as much as you and Marty and everyone else on this floor, but I remember this one.”
“Aiko was my best friend’s favorite comic book. We started reading it when we were studying in Japan.”
“Oh, honey. It was never completed, was it? That’s too bad. I loved this story. I often wondered what had happened to it.”
“No one knows when or if they’ll ever publish a conclusion. I know Ishikawa was sick, but that was years ago…”
“You guys are really good at this,” she said with awe in her voice, admiring the sketches. “I mean,” she clarified, “I already knew you guys were good, but you do a fine job recreating her style.”
I smiled. What had felt like a provocation at first was turning into something I really enjoyed.
“And look at that smile,” Violet teased. “I can’t remember if I’ve ever seen you smile like that before. Oh, Lena—come on, don’t get mad at me. You do like him.”
“Maybe I do, but so what? He has a girlfriend.”
“For now,” Violet said suggestively.
“And what if it’s forever? You shouldn’t encourage me.”
“I wish you would stop with this attitude of yours once and for all.”
I scrunched up my nose. “This attitude of mine? What do you mean? I’ve always been like this. What you see is what you get,” I said, flattening my palm and moving it along my figure from head to toe.
“It’s like Barbra says.” I looked at her, confused, and she sighed. “Streisand. Barbra Streisand, child. Hello, gorgeous!” She enunciated the quote to make me understand, but to no avail.
I frowned again.
“People need people, darling. You can put up this façade of yours as much as you want, but it’s not right, Lena. Sure, you’re fine on your own. You’re independent, self-sufficient. You have your dream job, but…”
“But?”
“People do need people. I don’t mean romantically, necessarily. Sure, you have me and Marty, but that’s not enough. I’ve seen you do it over and over with men, and I’m sick of it.”
“You’re sick of ‘it’? Sick of what?”
“Sick of you keeping everyone at a distance. Shutting yourself up like a hermit won’t work. One of these days, you’ll realize you’ve been lying to yourself, and guess what? You’ll only end up feeling more lonely and miserable. I don’t want that for you. I want to see you happy.”
“You talk about happiness like something that’s sold on a shelf at the grocery store. I made peace with myself a long time ago, and I realized that happiness is not for everyone. True love is not for everyone. If I’ve made peace with that, why can’t you? Who are you to tell me what’s right or wrong for me? I’m comfortable where I’m at in my life. Why do you want to push me out of this safe bubble I’ve created for myself?”
“Because your bubble is just that—a bubble. One of these days it’s going to burst, and you’re going to take a long, hard look at yourself and realize what a fool you’ve been. It’s one thing if you don’t get to meet the love of your life. It’s another if you keep pushing away everyone who might be the one.”
I shook my head in disbelief and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and counted to five before I said anything else then got up and shut the door of the office.
I had things to say to her, and I was going to get them off my chest.
“How is this going to help me, Violet? There’s a reason I live my life the way I do, and you’re here telling me I need someone, whether a friend or a love interest…and what am I supposed to do with this kind of info? Besides, you know what? You might be onto something. Maybe I do want Amos. Maybe I could have had him years ago, but I acted foolishly and now he’s someone else’s. Are you happy now? You’ve been saying it all along. I want Amos, but he isn’t mine, and he won’t ever be.”
Saying those words out loud hurt more than I’d thought they would. My throat burned as if a branding iron had been stuck in it, my heart sped up, and I had to swallow to stop the tears from welling up in my eyes.
“But maybe…”
“Maybe nothing. He has someone else, and you know I’m not that kind of person. It’s already fucked up enough as it is. It’s one thing to have an unrequited crush when you’re young. At my age, it’s just pathetic. I really don’t need your encouragement to make it more complicated. What exactly are you suggesting here? That I go after him on the basis of some cosmic connection we share?”
“I’m not saying that, I’m just saying—”
“And this comes from you, someone who’s about to get married!” I said exasperatedly, almost wanting to grab her pen holder and throw it on the floor.
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to break them up, but if there’s a chance that in the future things might work out for you, just…don’t run away, whether it’s Amos or someone else. Stop shutting people out, Lena. I’m serious.”
Her words hurt.
She doesn’t understand me.
I turned around and grabbed the handle of the door.
“Lena,” she pleaded, her voice softer. “I’m just trying to watch out for you.”
I nodded, blinking the tears away.
“Are we okay?” she asked hesitantly.
“We will be,” I said, giving her a small smile.
AMOS
Our exchanges became more frequent after that day. She still kept her distance, but every once in a while I could see a different side of Lena, the playful, carefree one I had seen that night out in Seattle.
Her smiles were a rarity, and to be on the receiving end of one felt like a small victory. Sometimes I’d go look for her in the morning and we’d end up having coffee together in the breakroom, discussing our little fanfic project.
I had never seen her eyes light up like that.
I loved seeing that side of her.
It was hard not to get carried away with our side project, but we both had deadlines to meet. Still, we passed the notebook back and forth an average of two times a week. I sometimes wondered what we were going to do if we ran out of room. Would we keep going and get a new notebook?
I often re-read the pages we had already drawn.
I wished other people could see it. I wished Ishikawa’s readers could at least find some consolation in our fanfic.
I searched the internet for any updates on the status of the manga but found nothing other than an interview from two years prior in which Ishikawa confirmed her commitment to finishing it.
There was a Reddit page where a user said she suffered from an autoimmune disease that debilitated her to the point where she couldn’t hold a pen or a pencil anymore. I didn’t know much about autoimmune diseases, but I did know having a very stressful work life didn’t help. Your body eventually gave in, unable to withstand the constant pressure it had been subjected to for years.
I looked at our drawings and the minor differences between my style and hers.
They went together quite well.
My cell phone screen lit up—a text from Olivia.
Yes, I was still with her. I still intended to break up with her, but she had gone through a very rough patch recently.
I wasn’t making excuses; I just didn’t want to be the jerk calling it off when she was already going through a bad time.
First, she’d lost her job at the nonprofit where she had been working as a marketing assistant because they’d lost the funding for her position.
It had been three weeks since she showed up at my house in tears. She’d been job hunting ever since, but was a bit depressed because she couldn’t find a position that paid like her other job had. On top of that, she kept talking about how soon she’d have to move out of her apartment because she couldn’t afford rent.
What was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to offer for her to come stay with me when I was really looking for the right time to tell her we should break up?
Once again, she made sure to let me know that if I wanted to go to her parents’ house together, I was most welcome to join her. I told her I would rather wait for a better occasion, and at that point she accused me of being selfish.
Fine, I was the jerk. I could handle it. She was right, anyway. After all, I was just biding my time.
If I’d had any doubts about my feelings for her before, in the last three weeks, I’d become sure I was making the right decision.
Olivia: My dad’s biopsy results came in! He’s still going to have surgery, but at least it’s benign.
* * *
Me: That’s great, Olivia. I’m really happy for you. So, the doctors are optimistic?
* * *
Olivia: Yes, they’ll do the surgery and then he’s supposed to go through a few rounds of radiation. They make it sound like it’s not a huge deal, but still, my father has never had surgery before.
* * *
Me: I’m sure everything will go well, you’ll see. I’ve looked up the doctor who’s treating your father and he seems to be highly recommended. Your father is in good hands, kid.
* * *
Olivia: Thank you, A. I feel so relieved. I’ll feel better when all of this is over, but for now this will do. Are we still going to that wedding this Saturday? I’d almost forgotten about it. I could use the distraction…it’s been a rough month.
* * *
Me: Sure. I didn’t know if you still wanted to go…
* * *
Olivia: I’m up for it. I love weddings.
Is that supposed to be a not-so-subtle hint? I groaned, struggling to find the words to type back.
Me: Okay. Well, we’ll go. I’ll pick you up on Saturday?
* * *
Olivia: Actually, I was thinking of coming up on Friday to spend the night. I miss you, A. We’ve hardly had any time together lately. My life has been a mess and you’ve been working so much…
* * *
Me: I’ll see you on Friday night, then. Dinner and a movie?
* * *
Olivia: Takeout and Netflix will do. I want to snuggle. :-)
* * *
Me: Okay then, it’s a date.
I stared at the screen, and I almost considered sending a breakup text, but that would have been the shittiest thing I’d ever done in my life. I might not have been a model boyfriend, and I already felt shitty enough because from time to time I had thoughts about another woman, but I could never do something like breaking up over text.
I sighed, threw my phone on the desk, and folded my arms in front of my chest.
Would I ever find the right time to break up with her? I wished I could change her mind about going to the wedding.
I thought about trying to convince her not to go, but I knew it would hurt Marty’s feelings if I didn’t show up.
“Hey, are you done with that?” Lena asked, pointing at the notebook.
I stared at her for a few seconds.
“You look different,” I told her. She did. Her makeup was more pronounced than usual, and she looked great. Smoky eye shadow framed her blue eyes. Her lashes looked thicker, her cheeks looked rosy, and her nude-colored lips looked more defined.
She looked beautiful, even more than usual.
“Ugh, it’s the makeup for the wedding. Violet insisted that I meet with her makeup artist for a test run. So, are you done with the notebook?”
“You’re in the wedding?” I asked, and she narrowed her eyes at me. The heavier makeup made her look even more dangerous.
I wished I could nibble on her lip and kiss her again. I wished I could get her out of her distressed tee and skinny jeans—I had to stop. Stop thinking about her that way, Amos.
“Of course I’m in the wedding, you moron. Don’t you know who I am?” She sounded snippy for a moment, but then she let out a nervous laugh and came closer to me, grabbing the notebook off my desk.
I stared at her as she flipped through the pages.
“Do you think you’re done? Mind if I go ahead and finish this one page? I already have an idea.”
I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
She turned around without saying goodbye, and I found myself staring at her ass swaying down the hall even though I knew every bit of it was wrong.
LENA
I cleared my throat.
“Hi, everyone. My Lena name is Andrews, and I’m the maid of honor.”
Everyone laughed. Shit. “Fuuu-dge, I messed up already, didn’t I? People with kids, you’re lucky I remembered not to say the F-word out loud just now.”
More people laughed. Come on, Lena. It can’t get worse than that.
I let out a nervous laugh.
“Well, let’s start all over again, shall we? My name is Lena Andrews and I’m the maid of honor, and by now you’re all probably wondering why such a task was even bestowed on me. Well, just to be clear, I’m a way better writer than I am a public speaker, so you’re just going to have to stick with me. Please be patient,” I whispered awkwardly into the microphone. A few more people laughed and I straightened myself up, pulling my shoulders back. I glanced at my cue cards.
I knew my speech by heart, but I was really nervous and had already fucked up once. I could see Marty’s grandma looking at me, eyebrows raised in confusion. I looked away and glanced over at my friends, who seemed quite amused by the mishap. Marty had an arm draped around Violet while his other hand held hers.
I smiled at them, took a deep breath, and started my speech.
“Most people don’t know this, but when Marty first asked Violet out, she said no. Mind you, it was a long time ago, and Marty was—or at least looked like—a certifiable slacker. He was nothing like the successful businessman he is today.”
I wasn’t lying—he really had dressed like a slacker.
“I didn’t personally know Violet at the time, but from what Marty told me, she was…unimpressed.”
A few people laughed, while Marty just shrugged and looked lovingly at his bride.
“Anyway, he was a persistent mother-effer even back then, and he didn’t give up. He was stupidly smitten. He knew he had to win her over with some grand gesture, so he decided to do what he did best: he put his talents to good use and created this,” I said, pulling out the rare copy of the comic book that had won Violet’s heart: RBF Violet, a superhero story. “Yes, as some of you might have already guessed, Violet’s superpowers were triggered by RBF—resting bitch face,” I said, mouthing the last few words since there were quite a few children present. The wedding party laughed, and I paused for a second until the laughter died down. I made the mistake of looking around and my eyes fell on Amos—and his beautiful girlfriend, Olivia, a petite brunette with tan skin.
I tried to ignore the ache squeezing my heart and glanced at my cue cards.
“In the comic book, Violet was a scientist. After a couple of male colleagues sabotaged her cutting-edge biotech research, Violet’s vision was damaged. She was able to heal, but when something really aggravated her and she inadvertently put her RBF on or wanted to roll her eyes, laser beams would shoot out and obliterate every living thing around her.”
Everyone laughed even more than before, although Marty’s grandma was asking the person next to her what RBF was.
I didn’t even need to add how Violet thought all this was hysterical. She loved the idea that her character could incinerate an enemy with her laser beam eyes. Once again, I scanned the crowd and made the mistake of pausing on Amos and Olivia.
He whispered something in her ear and when he pulled back, she was staring at him adoringly, biting her bottom lip. A twinge of pain spread through my chest, and I felt like I was intruding on their intimate moment. As soon as Amos looked my way, I looked at the opposite side of the roo
m and continued my speech.
“When Marty had the comic book finished, he covered the walls outside Violet’s dorm with the cover and sent her a few copies. I am the lucky owner of one of them. Violet said yes to that first date, and the rest is history. I won’t keep everyone by going into the details of how Marty and Violet are the best friends a girl could ask for, but they are. They are my family, and seeing them so in love gives me hope. You see, I didn’t have the greatest example of love growing up, but I believe in the two of them, and I know they are going to make it. So, raise your glass and join me in wishing Marty and Violet a long and happy life together!”
The wedding party erupted in cheers and claps and we all toasted the happy couple. They both smiled at me genuinely, and I knew they had to be at least a bit surprised I wasn’t being a complete sourpuss, since weddings were not my jam.
I didn’t believe in love and I hated promises of forever, but I loved them and I knew they were always going to be there for each other.
Love was a lie we believed to suppress our innate feeling of loneliness.
I didn’t need it. I knew I wasn’t missing out on anything.
Sex, on the other hand, I thought as I scanned the entire wedding party and made a mental list of all the eligible bachelors.
Maybe I’d meet someone able to erase my annoying, constant fantasies that featured Amos St. Clair as the hero.
AMOS
“Do you want to dance?”
“Not really,” Olivia replied. “My shoes are killing me.” She downed her glass of champagne and looked at the people dancing.
I leaned back against my chair and loosened my tie just a little.
The band started playing Chubby Checker’s “The Twist,” and a lot more people rushed to the dance floor. I scanned the crowd for people from work, and then I noticed someone I hadn’t expected to see out there.
The Art of Us Page 10
