Brant
Anger.
Anger and frustration.
These are the feelings running through me as I lay in bed, playing the events of last night over and over.
After Abby stormed off and I called after her, I got up and lightly knocked on her door but she didn’t answer when I called her name then either. So I went back to the kitchen and after packing her a healthy lunch I cleaned up and put a note inside the brown paper bag that held her food.
I didn’t mean to push her that far. I just wanted something from her. To get to know her a little better. But, I pushed too hard again and she retreated. What she said definitely explained a lot. She’s so proud and guarded and I just want her to know that she doesn’t need to be with me. I just want her to know how interesting I find her. I just want a glimpse inside all of the mysteries that make her, her. I know she’s capable of so much more than she’s allowing herself to have, stuck in this boring routine. I see the glint of interest in her eyes every time she comes across something new. I see the way she looks at people on the street. I see the way she throws herself into her studies she has so much passion and drive for. And it’s wasted on all these books she hides behind.
I wish I could have told her all of that. I wish I could have told her that I understand her reasons. I wish I could have told her that I don’t feel sorry for her. I wish I could have told her that I have so much admiration for her because she not only survived her history but she thrived.
But, in the end, all the note said was: ‘I’m sorry.’
With a heavy sigh I sit up in bed and look over at my latest attempt at painting. After I finished in the kitchen I came back here and picked up a brush, but it’s just been more of the same. Random slashes of paint that mean nothing and went nowhere.
Throwing the covers off me, I get up and head to the bathroom to get ready for the day. I don’t know why she has this effect on me. When she’s around and all her attention is focused on me I’m on the best high, but when she shuts down and shuts me out I’m thrown into this sullen mood where nothing interests me.
I head to the kitchen after finishing in the bathroom. I turn on the coffee machine and brace my hands against the counter while I wait for the coffee to brew. I shake my head and close my eyes, trying to clear my thoughts of Abby, but when I open my eyes I spot the paper bag on the counter. Untouched. With her name written on.
I pick up the paper bag and throw it against the nearest wall. It explodes open and all the things inside come spilling out. The little note I agonized over and ended up only writing two words on slowly floats to the ground. Like a last little ‘fuck you’ to me.
It’s like a constant roller-coaster of ups and downs and they all depend on Abby. I’ve never allowed a woman to have this kind of hold on me. And I don’t know how she has been able to in such a short time.
It’s just… I just know there’s more.
I run into the kitchen. Yes, run. Because like a curious fucking child I need to see if Abby has taken her lunch. I can’t help the smile on my face when I see it’s gone. For almost an entire week the only sign I’ve had that she’s even been here are the missing lunches each morning.
After that first morning when she didn’t take it I upped my game. The second morning instead of putting a note inside the bag I started writing them on the bag. I wrote ‘Please take me. If you don’t I’ll be sad’ on one. Another said ‘Morning beautiful, I have treats inside’ and so on. I also put a drawing at the bottom of each bag. The first one was a girl with a jasmine flower in her hair. The second a girl with curly hair behind a medical textbook. The third, a curly haired girl standing next to a caricature of House. The fourth, the same girl doing a complicated yoga pose. Today’s drawing was of a ninja with curly hair creeping around a corner.
The smile slips from my face. I’m getting tired of this game.
She’s been gone each morning when I woke up and only returned when I was out of the apartment. When I got back she’d already be locked away in her room or wouldn’t return until I was asleep. Those times bothered me the most because it drove me crazy not knowing where she was, or who with. But today I was determined to change it. I have no classes or work today. I would stay in this apartment until she came back.
After having breakfast and another cup of coffee I set about the day. I start cleaning the kitchen, taking time to clear out all the cupboards and reorganizing them, and then move onto the living room and bathroom. I even clean my own bedroom from top to bottom but even that only takes up a couple of hours of the morning.
I’m waiting for the last load of laundry to finish and idly wonder if taking all the curtains down to wash them as well would be taking it too far. I could go shopping, or go idle away a couple of hours in the park near here but again, I don’t want to miss her when she comes in. I walk to my room and look through the books I have on my shelf but I’ve read all of them and there is not one I’d care to re-read at the moment.
My phone rings from the living room where I left it. Thinking it might be Abby I run to grab it and answer it, panting.
“Hello?”
“Good afternoon, son.” It’s my dad.
“Oh, hi.” The disappointment in my voice is obvious. I don’t know why I thought it might be her. She’s never called me before and the only time she texts me is when I text her first.
My disappointment doesn’t even register with him as he continues. “How’s school?”
“It’s good. Going well.” I know he’s not really interested. He has never been. This is all just a precursor to why he’s actually calling. To bug me about the board again.
“Well, I don’t have a lot of time so just let me get straight to the point. Todd Henry is giving up his seat on the board and I would very much like to put your name forward.”
Am I right or am I right.
“Dad, I’m not interested.”
“Son, when are you going to give up this ridiculous hobby and start being a responsible adult?”
“I’m still in school. And we made a deal. I have until I get my degree to make a success of this…”
“And it’s been four years and the only things you’ve achieved are commissioned portrait paintings. Is that the kind of life you want? Living hand to mouth off the meagre earnings of an artist?” Listening to him it sounds almost like he cares about my welfare though I know that’s not true. His only concern is for his reputation and his legacy and a starving artist son would be a black mark against his perfect record.
“There’s a big exhibition coming up. I could get a massive gallery contract from one of the biggest galleries in the country. If I get a foot in the door…” I stop when I hear that familiar sigh of his. Filled with contempt and feigned patience and the unsaid words: why is my son such a disappointment.
“Pipe dreams, CB.” CB, the name my dad calls me and the name that feels like nails down a chalkboard, pompous and pretentious. “You need to start taking a realistic look at your future and start planning what you’ll do when this all fails.”
“I’m not interested, dad.” I bite out the words. I’m pissed. “I’ve never been interested and I never will be.”
“Son, if you’d reconsider I could help you out. Financially. Get you through the last year of school easier. And then, if you still feel you want to explore this art thing, as a hobby, I have a few gallery owners on my portfolio I’m sure I could...”
“Goodbye, dad. Send my best to mom.” I say as I press the button to end the call.
I head down to the laundry room we share with the rest of the building and seeing that my clothes and sheets are done in the dryer I tug them out and angrily start folding them.
My father just doesn’t get it. He never did. Art isn’t just a hobby to me. It’s what I live and breathe and think about all day. If I’m not able to paint or draw and had to be stuck in a suit all day my soul would die and I would become a soulless, angry, unhappy individual just like my parents. And I don’t want any favors. I want to do this on my own terms. I want this for me, something to be proud of that nobody can take away from me.
Once done I head back up and put everything away in their place. I grab the sketchbook from my backpack and go sit on the couch, feet up on the table, and continue to wait for Abby from my perch.
For once she isn’t the only thing on my mind. I had a single spurt of inspiration that night I watched her in the darkness of her room and since then it’s been nothing but nothing. She not only seems to have control over my moods, but also over my art and it’s frustrating as fuck. This call with my father didn’t help either. Nobody ever takes me seriously. I’m the player. The charmer. The guy with the dimples and an interesting hobby. Nobody thinks I take this seriously, well, besides Alex. Nobody takes me seriously.
The piece of charcoal in my hand flies furiously across the page and after a while the picture starts to make sense. It’s a portrait of my father. The hard lines of his mouth and dead eyes are all captured on the page. I don’t want to become this.
I sigh as I take in the image of what my future may become and just as I’m doodling devil horns and drops of blood from his mouth the apartment door opens. I quickly get up and close the sketchbook on the table. I wipe my smudged hands on my grey sweat pants just as she walks in, nose in her bag.
“Abby,” I start. She jumps when she hears her name and her eyes flick to mine. She looks like a deer caught in headlights.
“Coyer.. I.. I forgot I need to,” She points a thumb back to the door. “I need to go pick up… things for class tomorrow.” She’s lying. She turns around and her hand is on the door when I spring into action.
“Stop!” I walk towards her and close the door in front of her with the palm of my hand. “Where have you been?” I whisper into the back of head.
She side steps out from under my arm and moves away from me. “Nowhere. Classes. Tutoring. Yoga. Library.”
“All night long, Abby?! I don’t believe you.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” She squares her shoulders and that angry glint in her eye is back. This is not the way I wanted this to go. I take a deep breath and start again.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” I say in a quiet tone. “And I want to know why.”
“I haven’t been avoiding you.” Her voice is steady but her eyes are on the floor. She IS lying.
“Then why haven’t I seen you once this week?”
“Crazy schedule.” She shrugs one arm. “I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to come home for dinner?”
“Why do you even care?” Her eyes flash to me. “We live together. It doesn’t mean that we have to be friends and share all our secrets and have dinner every night and braid each other’s hair!”
Ok, that stung.
“I.. I just thought we’d gotten into a routine. I make dinner every night. You eat it. We watch an episode of House…” Christ, I sound like a pussy.
“Well you can stop cooking for me. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for most of my life and you don’t need to pretend to be my father. I already have one and he’s useless. I don’t need another.”
“I don’t want to be your father, Abby. Christ.” I push a hand through my hair and then try a different tactic. “Although if you want to call me Daddy…”
She exclaims in disgust and makes a beeline for her bedroom. But I refuse to let her get away with this again and go after her. I’m inside her bedroom before she has a chance to slam the door in my face.
“Get out of my room! You have no right to be in here.”
“Well if you would talk to me I wouldn’t need to barge in here to get it out of you!”
We both stare at each other. She’s angry but so am I. I don’t do well with being ignored. I hold her stare until she looks down. “Please get out, I have things to do.” Her tone is much quieter now.
“No.” Is my simple reply. “Not until we talk.”
She doesn’t reply but I refuse to leave. I will stay here until we’ve cleared up whatever this uneasiness is between us. This is the first time I’ve actually been inside her room in the daylight and I take the opportunity to observe it. Neat, ordered, no decoration aside from the bookshelf with a single picture frame and next to it, above her desk…
“You kept it.”
“What?” She looks at me in panic. Like I’ve just discovered another dirty secret.
“The painting. You kept it.” I look down at her and smile.
“It would have been rude to throw it away. That’s the only reason.” She shakes her head in frustration and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Sure.” I don’t believe her but I’ll let her have this. I walk over to her bookshelf and pick up the frame. It’s a picture of a little girl, she’s beaming up at a man and to her other side is a woman with her head thrown back in laughter. “Are these your parents.”
“Used to be.” Her arms slip down next to her sides. I nod and place the frame back on the self. I look at all her books. Most are medical textbooks and old English classics. But then I spot something peeking out from behind a thick anatomy textbook. I reach behind it and pull it out. Its dog eared and had obviously been read a lot of times. I read the title out loud. “The Billionaires Seduction.” I flip the book around to read the back and then raise an eyebrow at her. “Porn, Abby? I’m shocked.” I question in mock shock.
Her face has turned a bright shade of red and it’s adorable. “It’s not porn!” She lunges for the book in my hands but I hold it above my head so she can’t reach it. “Give it back!” She tries jumping to get it from my hand but she’s way too short, she’s determined however and keeps trying. “Give it back to me. You have no right!”
“I will give it back on one condition.”
She stops her jumping and looks at me. “What?”
“You tell me why you’ve been avoiding me, and I will give your porn back.”
I smile at her, barely holding my laughter. Who knew little uptight Abby had a taste for porn books. She huffs but admits defeat.
“I haven’t been avoiding you.” I still don’t believe her but I don’t say anything. “My mom called me. She thought I was her dealer.” Her shoulders are slumped and her mouth turned down. I don’t like this look on her.
“I’m sorry, babe.”
“I’m used to it,” she shrugs. “My mind has just been preoccupied and my work load has been intense. My grades are slipping and I needed more time to study. I’m stressed out.”
“Well,” I hand the book back to her. I know she’s not telling me the entire truth and only the parts she’s comfortable with me knowing but I feel like I’ve still won this fight. “Doing more of the same is not going to help. Why don’t you help me with dinner tonight? Take your mind off things for a couple of hours and then start again.”
She looks dubious.
“Or I tell everyone what kind of books you like to read.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Wouldn’t I?” I start backing out of her room. “I don’t know, Abs. I’m really desperate for your help. Who knows what I may do to get it?” I turn around and slip out of her room but as soon as I enter the kitchen she’s right behind me.
I don’t say anything as I start pulling ingredients from the fridge, no need to rub my victory in her face. She’s standing in the doorway looking uncomfortable. She wants to be here. I call this a victory but I know she never does anything she doesn’t want to. She just needs some persuasion.
“Why don’t you start on chopping the vegetables?” I gesture towards the cutting board on the counter. When she starts in on the peppers I dock my phone into the speaker system and find the right playlist. I move my body to the rhythm of the upbeat songs as I start breaking eggs and beating them in a bowl.
“You like music.”
“Yes. Music is life.” I smile at her. “In a bad mood? Music is the answer. Good mood? Makes it better. You don’t like music?”
She looks down at the peppers and mushrooms she finished chopping and shakes her head in the negative. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t make sense?”
“No.”
“Not everything in life has to make sense, babe. In fact, some of the best things don’t make any sense at all.”
“That makes no sense.” She frowns at me and I smile at her. She blushes slightly and then hands me the chopped veggies. “What do I do next?”
“Oh, now we’re getting our hands dirty.” She looks on as I grab another bowl and throw in some thawed vegetable sausage patties. “We have to crumble and mash those up.”
She pulls back from the bowl in utter disgust but I grab her hands and push them inside the bowl. I cover her hands with mine and begin squeezing the mush through our fingers. She looks even more disgusted now and I laugh at her.
“You want to be a doctor but you can’t handle this?”
“It’s so messy.” She complains.
“Life is messy.” I argue but I’m concentrating on her hands under mine. The gooey vegetable mixture mixed in hour hands is strangely sensual and I have to press my hips into the counter to hide my semi from her. The feel of her hands working under mind is making me think of bodies. Hers and mine to be exact, but the sound of her clearing her throat brings me out of my stupor. I give her a guilty smile and take the bowl from her. I mix it with the other vegetables and egg mixture before pouring it into the pan. I try and concentrate on the frittata instead of on Abby.
I’m just about done when Lowlife by Poppy starts playing. I’ve always loved this song and it’s happy tune. I can’t help but shake my ass to it.
“Do you ever wear a shirt?” She sounds annoyed again.
I turn my head and catch her checking me out. She looks down quickly and blushes when she sees me looking at her. I take the pan off the stove and turn my body to hers. “You don’t like me shirtless?” I raise an eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes in reply. I take a step towards her, my eyebrow still raised. “I think you do…” I take another step. “I think you like it a lot.” And another. “In fact I think you LOVE me without a shirt.” Another step. “ I think you’d love to touch all this shirtless hotness.” Finally I reach her and slowly raise my hands. She takes a step back from the counter and holds up her hands in defense when I start moving my body to the music, dancing on her.
“No, no you’re dirty.” I ignore her and go after her. I roll my hips against her, my arms stretched wide. “Oh my gosh.” She mutters but she doesn’t move away this time and I take it as a good sign.
I grab her arms from her sides and twirl her around in the kitchen. I sing the words to the song as I pull her to me and dance us around the floor. “Baby you’re the highlight of my lowlife, take a shitty day and make it alright, yeah alright.”
She’s laughing and having a good time and I’m struck by the way her face changes. She seems free and open and Christ she’s beautiful in this moment. I pull her closer and watch as she giggles into my chest. I want inside her so bad. To make her come undone underneath me. She sobers when she realizes I’m no longer dancing and searches my faces curiously.
“Your secrets are safe with me Abby. I would never tell anyone.” She blinks at me for a second and then pulls back and lets go of my hands. She’s crawling back into her cave and I won’t have it. “Want to go somewhere with me tomorrow?”
She swallows and thinks about if for a second. “Where?”
“It’s a surprise, but I promise you’ll have a good time.”
She looks down and starts fidgeting with her hands and I think she’s about to say no when she looks up with a smile. “Ok.”
“Good girl. Now, grab some plates and put on the next episode of House.” I watch her leave the kitchen before I pull out my phone and open my reading app. I search for what I’m looking for and one-click on the title. I have to read about a billionaire and his seduction tonight.