Framed (14 page)

I skipped dinner, feeling mentally and physically exhausted. I lay in bed wearing only my underwear; the heat was more unbearable than the previous night. It was small consolation, but at least I knew why.

It took me forever to nod off. As I drifted away, the image of Sean's face the very first time I ever saw him floated into my consciousness. Everything about it was perfection. The lighting that framed it, the expression of concern he wore, and those impossibly green eyes. His dark hair fell tentatively around his face, his tousled waves blowing in the wind as it carried softly spoken words with it. As it blew harder and harder, the words became louder and louder.

“Don't you leave me. I won't let you...come back to me." They repeated over and over again until the wind blew so hard that it carried Sean away, off into the bright light behind him. “I love you,” I called after him. “I love you too, now don't you fucking leave me,” he growled in return. My mind flashed to the memory of lying in the back room of the shop, bleeding in his arms. “Come back to me, Ruby, Goddammit. I will not lose you,” he told me as he looked down at my broken body, his face panicked and fearful.

I'd forgotten how frightened he was that day; I was too busy trying not to die to really notice. That memory played several times over, and I memorized everything I'd initially missed. How he cradled me gently in his lap. How he stroked my face to calm me and keep me awake, and how he would have done anything to keep me breathing and with him. In that moment, I was everything to him. Even half-dead, I don't know how I missed it.

My mind quickly contrasted that memory with the one from earlier that morning when he left my apartment, the fear of losing me again parading across his face. I put my frustration aside in my dream and really took in his emotions, feeling this time instead of listening. My mind could trick me, but my body always knew.

He was grieving when he left.

He mourned my loss even before it happened. Had he accepted my terms? I tried to ask him, but he faded away as the background muddied and swirled, becoming a place I'd never seen before—a house. A bedroom.

Sean walked through the door toward me as I lay across the bed in the darkened room.
His
bed. I stretched out comfortably as though I'd been there many times before. He smiled as I did it, eyes widening to take in the sight of me, my paleness contrasting the dark sheets beneath me. The shade of green darkened slightly.

“You thought I'd let you go?” he asked as he approached slowly. Watching him made me weak, being apart from him was torture. “I've told you before, you are mine.” I smiled and purred as I arched slowly up off the bed, rolling to my feet to meet him. “But I allowed you the choice, remember?” he reminded me. I nodded slowly in agreement. He reached his hand around the back of my neck and ran it through my hair gently, taking it in his hands to draw me in. My breath caught in my throat as his face neared mine, and I pulled up on his shoulder to meet him.

Just before our lips met, he threw me violently back onto the bed.

It was no longer Sean standing before me.

“You chose wrong!” the Rev screeched before pouncing at me, fangs bared.

I launched out of my bed screaming, soaked from head to toe. I had the worst case of déjà vu ever, except this time Cooper didn't come storming into the room at the sound of my disturbance. Once again, the Rev had frightened me out of my sleep. I'd hoped it would be the last.

* * *

“I pray that coffee is for me,” I groaned as Peyta pushed the shop's door open with her butt. I was too tired to get off my stool to help her.

“It is. Fully leaded and ready for consumption.”

“You're a saint.”

“Hardly,” she replied, plopping the cup down in front of me. “Omniscient or psychic maybe, but no saint. Saints don't have any fun.” She winked at me playfully, but I just didn't have it in me to take the bait.

“Whatever. Don't care what you call it. I'm just happy to see my black elixir of life. So warm...so fragrant. Yummers.”

“When exactly did you start drinking coffee, anyway? I thought you hated it when I first met you. Now I rarely see it without you.”

“I did. It's become a necessary evil in my life,” I sighed. "Like so many other things..."

“Judging by the bags under your eyes, I'm inclined to agree,” she stated, observing my face closely. “Rough night?”

“Yep.”

“Care to share?”

“Nope.”

“Reasons?”

“Unimportant.”

She huffed loudly out of frustration as she threw her hands up in surrender. “Well this has been fun," she snipped. "I'll drop it, but I'm getting the sinking suspicion that you're trying to protect me from something again. I thought we'd ironed all that out.”

“We did, Peyta. This doesn't have anything to do with you,” I said before muttering into my cup. “Not yet anyway.”

“What was that?” she asked, turning on her heels to stare me down intently.

“Nothing. Sorry, I'm just tired and especially cynical this morning.”

“OK, but, Ruby?”

“Yes, Peyta?”

“No secrets...not between
us
.”

I tried to maintain facial composure while the stabbing in my heart sent shock waves throughout my body.

“No secrets,” I agreed, lying through my teeth. "Not between us."

My cell phone blared, saving me from myself and my horrific poker face.

“I have to take this, P.” I made my way to the back room for privacy. I didn't want to have this conversation in front of Peyta. “Hello?”

“Good morning. May I speak to Ruby Dee, please?”

“This is she.”

“This is Rebecca from the Law Office of Rory, Waite, and Nichols. You wanted to schedule an appointment?”

“Yes, I did. As soon as possible, please,” I said, trying to keep my voice as low as possible and still sound relatively normal.

“What services do you require?”

“I need to do some estate planning.”

“OK, I have some time next week available.”

“I really need to get this done before then,” I said, sounding as desperate as I felt. “It's kind of an emergency.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding politely startled. “I see. I could fit you in this afternoon, but it will be a short appointment. I'll need you to be sure you have all your paperwork with you and organized.”

“Not a problem. Just email me a list of what you need and I'll have it ready.”

“Okay then. We'll see you at three-thirty?”

“Perfect. Thank you so much, Rebecca.”

“Of course. See you soon.”

“Bye.”

I clicked off the phone and walked back out front where Peyta was diligently cleaning a display case and redesigning it as she went along.

"Looks good,” I said, gesturing to her handiwork. "You've got a great eye for this stuff, you know that? Maybe I'll leave you in charge from now on."

“Thanks,” she replied with a smile. Peyta couldn't have known the subtext my statement held. She thought I meant I would leave her in charge of the displays. I meant I would leave her in charge, period.

“Hey, I've got some things I need to get together for an appointment this afternoon. Are you good on your own for a bit? I'll be back in an hour or two. I promise.”

"Ruby?" she called to me as I hovered in the open doorway, "Are you sure everything is alright?"

"Yeah, P. I'm just tired and a little stressed. I promise, I'm fine."

“Okay," she replied softly, eying me tightly for a moment. I could see the second she decided she believed me because the sparkle immediately returned to her eyes. "Do you care if I fix the rest of the displays while you're gone?”

“Nope. Knock yourself out,” I said, pushing the door open. Once the door closed, I muttered the rest of my thoughts aloud. “It'll be yours soon enough.”

* * *

The list of paperwork was a little more in depth than I'd bargained for, so I spent the full two hours racing around my apartment and the town to collect everything I needed. During those two hours, I had time to contemplate what was inevitably going to be asked of me by the attorney that afternoon. Who would I leave my life to?

I had no family to speak of, so that made that easy, but I had created a family that I needed to consider. When my parents died, I received a rather large inheritance, and I didn't want it to go to just anyone. I would make sure that Cooper was well taken care of and his schooling paid for. He would inherit the TT because he needed wheels and he practically humped it the first time he realized that it was mine. He would both appreciate and love her as I did; Dad would approve of him looking after her too. Cooper would also inherit the building. He'd made himself so much at home there that I didn't think he'd want to leave it or Portsmouth, even if I wasn't there with him. That thought stopped me dead in my tracks. I tried to breathe slowly while I fought back the tears.

I already knew that I would leave the shop to Peyta. She loved it so much, and she was showing amazing promise in her design work. She was a far better business woman than I was, so there were no concerns there, and, since Cooper would be her landlord, I was comfortable knowing that he wouldn't charge her much for rent, other than a maintenance and tax inclusive fee. She could do nothing but succeed under those circumstances.

There were still two question marks in my mind, and I spent the rest of the day before my appointment trying to figure out what exactly to do with them.

I eventually figured out that there was really only one thing that Sean would have wanted from me if I were gone. I made a note of it so I wouldn't forget to tell the lawyer about it; it wasn't in the mound of paperwork. As for the other person, I decided to do what I felt was right once the lawyer was sitting in front of me. I was tired and didn't want to stress about it anymore.

When three-fifteen rolled around, I poked my head in to say goodbye to Peyta and walked out the door. I crossed the street between traffic and stopped to look back at my home before continuing on. I would miss it. I would miss the shop, my apartment, my studio, my street, my town—I'd grown to love them all. A mournful smile painted my face as I turned to walk away. I didn't want to be late.

There was much to plan for.

13

Forty-five minutes later, I left the office with my affairs in order, feeling much better about things. I found solace in knowing those I cared most about would be looked after in my absence. I strolled through town with a newfound lightness in my step. Apparently acceptance could do that for a person.

With the weight of the world off my shoulders, I just enjoyed the sights, stopped in shops, and bought an obnoxiously large ice cream sundae for Peyta and me to pig out on. I said hello to passer-bys and tousled children's hair. I felt drunk with happiness and contemplated the irony of being happy to die. I don't think it had so much to do with actually being happy to die, but more so that I had taken back some control over my life, however short it would be.

That feeling was worth its weight in gold.

I strolled past
Better With Age,
stopping just beyond it, ice cream in hand. Looking up at the sign over my shoulder, I smiled, remembering the first time I ever saw it—the first time I met Ronnie.

A couple of weeks after I had moved to Portsmouth, I was still getting a crash course in the seeing world. I hadn't gotten my driver's license yet (and for good reason), so I walked everywhere, including the various doctors’ appointments, occupational therapy sessions, and meetings with various counselors. They had the most unenviable task of teaching me a lifetime of visual information in a very short period of time. I needed to be able to function on my own, and quickly.

On my way home from an ophthalmology appointment one day, I passed by a storefront full of clothing with wonderful textures and colors. Though nervous, I decided to go and check it out. I'd never gone clothes shopping on my own before.

The tinkle of the bells startled me when I opened the door, and I jumped to the side nearly knocking over a shoe display.

"If you break it, you buy it," a female voice called from behind the front counter. A middle aged woman with flaming red hair popped up from behind the register and looked at me curiously. "But luckily, it's hard to break anything around here. I wouldn't suggest going next door to the glassblowers, though. I think you could rack up a bill in no time with elbows like those."

She smiled wide, coming out from behind the counter towards me.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked.

"I'm...I'm not sure," I stammered, "I just really liked your window display."

"Do you want to look around for a bit?

"Yeah. Sure." I quickly pulled my attention over to the far wall containing shelves upon shelves of shoes.

"What size are you?" she asked as she shuffled her merchandise from one rack to another.

I said nothing for a moment
—
I didn't have the answer to her question.

"I don't know," I whispered, feeling instantly ridiculous. "I've never bought shoes before.