Inky (28 page)

“He was right about that.” Alone with his mom who knew everything and she seemed more than willing to speak openly with me. I might as well take advantage of the situation.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” She said taking a sip of water from her glass and letting my hand go.

“This feels perfect and it’s scary and intense and I know it was a long time ago but do you think he, he said he wouldn’t, but do you think he wouldn’t try to…”

“Do it again?”

“Yes.” I said it in such a small, timid voice, I hardly recognized myself.

“The short answer is no. The more in-depth answer and the reason I wanted to be alone with you is this: I hated Emma. I hated everything she stood for and I saw her for the wolf in sheep’s clothing she is. Last night, I saw who you are. You’re no wolf and you’re not a sheep either. You’re a beautiful girl that has stolen my boy’s heart. He needs a partner, an ally, someone in his court and aside from me, Olaf and Olaf’s father, he has never had that. Especially from the one person that should’ve been that for him; his own father.

Whew!

“Anika, I’m a pretty good judge of character and nothing in life is certain but I wanted you to know what you’re getting into. If it’s too much, well…” I was happy she didn’t continue that thought.

“I get it. I can honestly say he helps me as much as I help him.” What exactly was I committing to? I pondered that a moment until I wondered, “Did he tell you about the painting?”

“Not exactly. He said you would tell me someday. He said it was something you should tell me together. It’s quite beautiful though. You have a wonderful vision.”

“Thank you. And I will tell you, Patricia.”

“You better go get him. He must be panicking somewhere by now.”

Interesting choice of words.

I found him at the bar, drinking some sort of juice concoction, “She said I should come get you.”

“Did she give you the whole,
he needs a partner in life and, oh by the way, did he tell you why he tried to off himself
speech?”

“As a matter of fact…are you wearing a wire or something?”

“No, but I know my mom.”

I smiled at him. I wasn’t scared at all by her abruptness because it came from a place of love. She cared about her son and what happened to him. One day I’d tell him how lucky he was to have that.

Once back at the table, brunch was casual and carefree as was the conversation. It was like we did this every Sunday morning. I could see how easy it would be to fall into this lifestyle. Not the fancy parties and chauffeured cars but the fact that I could be someone’s true partner and he could be mine. The fact his mom liked me helped too. More than that, it was being with Cole. No matter where we were or what we did, in only a couple of days, he seemed to break down my reservations about protecting my heart.

“Sorry, Anika, are you with us dear?” I must’ve been zoning out.

“Wow, you must be rubbing off on me Cole.” I was joking, it was a joke but I’d unknowingly hit a nerve. Both Patricia and Cole looked at me like I was an asshole. “Oh.” I said in a small voice, “God, I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

His brow furrowed but with a sympathetic smile he took my hand, “It’s okay, really. Anika, you don’t have to apologize.”

Mom was a different story. “Has this been happening a lot, Cole?” She looked between us for an answer.

“In the last ten years, mom, not that often. But one of those times happened to be last night on our way back home.”

“And how did you deal with it?”

Hmm, how to answer that one?

“Anika and I have a kind of deal. She knows my trigger and I know hers.”

“But you’ve seen your father several times and that hasn’t happened.”

“Mom, I’d love to tell you that’s true, but I’ve just learned how to deal with it better. I didn’t intentionally not tell you but I needed to learn how to cope on my own. You can’t always be there and I didn’t have anyone else. Until now, that is.” The look he gave me was a mix of hope, fear and love. I could honestly say I was feeling all three and I was fine with that.

“So, Anika. What did you do?” She dabbed the sides of her mouth and settled in for a nice long chat.

“You mean when he got…dark?”

“Yes.”

“Well….?” I just kinda let the word hang out there for her to draw her own conclusion.

“So, sex is now the answer? Well, I suppose it’s a good enough distraction as any. Although I think you should really talk to someone, Cole.” She turned to me. “And did he do the same thing for you? I assume you’ve had an experience that required him to ‘help’ you?” You’d think this would be an awkward conversation but it felt almost clinical, like I was talking to a therapist or something. I did want it to end though.

“Trish, I want to tell you this and get it out of the way so we don’t have to talk about it again. I’m not trying to be rude, it’s just not something I want to dwell on. I know I have P.T.S.D. I try to think of having an anxiety attack like having diabetes. If my blood sugar is too low, give me some juice. In this case, the second time I saw Cole, I had an ‘episode’ or ‘attack’ and he gave me a tool I’ve used twice since. That painting? The one he bought that hangs in his beautiful home? I had an attack at work one day and he sang me a song and told me when he was little you sang it to him to soothe him. I had to use that song in a very real, very serious situation I’m not going to discuss right now. But it allowed me to cope and get through it and I have you to thank for that. Now, can we please talk about something else before I freak out in the middle of this beautiful restaurant?” I felt my body start to shake nervously.

Cole and Patricia Carlyle each had one of my hands. Trish’s eyes were wet with tears and Cole’s were hidden behind sunglasses.

“I’m sorry, maybe I should go. I’m sorry Cole. Mrs. Carlyle, sometimes my filter doesn’t work very well. I…” Me and my big mouth. I started this entire debacle and here we were having such a nice time together. I’d been imagining this sparkling, shiny future with my gorgeous husband and super mother-in-law. Less than a minute ago I was absolutely fine. Now I was about to drown once again. I could feel the little waves of panic begin to boil in me. What the fuck started this? Oh yeah, that fucking asshole, Joe, and my fucking evil mother. Was it always gonna be like this? I tried to stop it. I thought if I just got it all out there and cut her off at the pass, just be honest and get this little fact of my life out of the way, everything would be smooth sailing from here on out. I was wrong. The thrum of sound was like cymbals crashing around my head, every sound of the restaurant amplified, the conversations of every other normal person around me, the sick feeling making me want to crawl out of my own skin. But a sweet voice, like an angel or something was becoming louder and clearer now…

“
By the seaside
”…my eyes hurt…“
By the sea
… Anika?” Her voice was sweet and soft and gentle and all those things my mother never was. “Anika? Just take a deep breath, dear. Come on back to us. We’ve got you. Come on back now.” A glass was being held to my lips with juice. “Nothing to see here folks.” I heard her say as I drank the juice. “Her blood sugar just got a little low.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

When I had my faculties back, the embarrassment set in. “Oh. My. God. I’m so sorry!”

“Dear Anika. First of all, don’t you dare apologize…you’re exactly where you should be, sweetie. And second, Cole was right, you two are gonna be just fine.”

Neither one of them let go of me. I swallowed my infinitesimal pride and decided maybe it was okay for me to be vulnerable now and then. Maybe it was all just part of the healing process or something.

Chapter 27

Trish dropped Cole and me off at his house. He opened the front door and I went inside while he and his mom talked for a while. I went through the normal gamut of emotions: guilt, embarrassment, shame. Aimes always told me I didn’t have any reason to feel those things with her, that it was all totally fine but it didn’t matter what she said. It didn’t change the way I felt. I could only imagine what they were talking about so instead of eavesdropping, I decided to go upstairs.

When he found me, I was immersed in a drawing. I had a large sketch pad laid out in front of me with a pencil in hand. I hadn’t started to create anything in particular but the action itself was soothing.

“Anika?” His voice was soothing like his mother’s but much lower of course; gentle and smooth, one of the first things I noticed about him.

“I…” A lump sat in my throat. If I tried to talk, there’d be tears. I decided not to say anything at all. He sat on the floor and wrapped his body around me, holding me tight.

“You know, if you don’t want to marry me, I think my mom might be interested.” He smiled and sat down across from me.

“What?” I stilled.

“She’s very taken with you.”

“Really?” I said sarcastically. “After that Oscar worthy performance?”

“That implies you were pretending and we both know that’s not true. No, not because of that. Because you were real with her, you were honest. She also thinks you’re good for me.”

“I…I try to be strong, Cole.” I cried. “I hate this so much. I don’t want to be this weak person. I haven’t been like this in years, literally, years. And all of the sudden, it started that day after I sang and Gus asked me about it. That was the first time in years. And then, after Joe attacked me, and Evan and Lisa, and then you and the exhibit and everything. It’s just everything, all at once. I’m finding it really hard to cope.”

“Tell me what you need, Anika and I will help you. I told you, I’m a lot further along in this process than you are.”

“How attached are you to those billion thread count sheets on the bed here?”

“Not attached at all?”

“Did you happen to get canvas on this art shopping spree?”

“In the garage.”

“Do you own a white wife beater?”

“Yes.”

“A CD player with something angry and dark?”

“Definitely.”

“Can you bring me all those things along with my ripped jeans, a glass of white wine and a bottle of water?”

He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me gently on the lips, “I thought you’d never ask.”

I spread out everything he’d bought and organized it, taking off tags and plastic, setting up my pallet and noting he’d even been thoughtful enough to put empty jars in the bags for the brushes. Slowly but surely, all the items I asked for were laid before me. I plugged in the little boom box and flipped through his CDs, some very surprising selections. Finally, he handed me a bottle of water and laid the clothes folded at my feet.

I arranged the large blank canvas on the easel and started to change. Pulling off the top and my bra, pulling down my pants and underwear, I stood naked, facing the ocean. I pulled the jeans up and the wife beater over my head. “I’ll have to get you a new wife-beater. It won’t be sparkling white when I’m done with it.”

“Are you kidding? I’m gonna keep it hidden away and when you’re not here, it’ll replace my dirty magazines with it.” I had to see his face to determine whether or not he was joking. He winked, which still didn’t explain but I decided he was being funny.

“You’re filthy. Awesome.” I chuckled.

“I’ll bring you some wine later. You have everything you need?” He moved toward the doorway.

“Yeah.” I was trying to decide between two CDs. “I would never have pegged you as a Slayer fan?”

“I went to one concert. During my anxious years.” He smiled. “Is this your standard painting attire?”

“Yep.”

“It’s hot.” He eyes scanned my body. His hands ran through his thick hair.

“I’m glad you think so because later, I’m going to require a hard angry fuck.” I smiled back at him over my shoulder. His erection obvious in his cargos.

“I better go do something else then…uh, I’m not trying to handle you but I called Aimes and told her you weren’t coming.”

“Did you tell her why?” I continued my set up, squeezing paint from tubes onto a wooden pallet and wondering if he’d noticed I use wood at home.

“In a nutshell. She asked if you needed her. I said I had it covered. And I arranged for that painting to be brought to the gallery tomorrow. Is that all okay? I don’t want to over-step or any... ” He didn’t get a chance to finish talking. I threw myself at him and kissed him deeply.

“Thank you, Cole.” I whispered to him as I pulled away, carefully keeping the pallet held out of the way.

“Is it okay if I check in and watch now and then?”

“Absolutely. I’m happy to share this with you. No one’s ever wanted to before. Or maybe I made it seem like it wasn’t okay; I’m not sure, but I welcome that. But don’t be mad if I ignore you.” He brushed his hand down my side to my hip and squeezed.

“No way, Anika. I can’t imagine what you could do to make me mad. Unless of course you decide you don’t like me and even then…it’d be worth it just for what is turning out to be the best weekend of my entire life.”

“You say that now.” I laughed and pulled away from him. “I’m gonna get started. Are the neighbors gonna be pissed about volume?”

“You can’t hear anything from here. I’ll see you soon.”

And there I was. Alone in my borrowed studio in paradise, living my dream. Funny how I looked up at a house just like this when Cole and I walked on the beach that day. I never imagined it would become a reality. When I hit play and repeat all, I began.

I washed the entire canvas in a light grey. I was grateful Cole provided oil and acrylic paint. I chose acrylic, not wanting to wait for things to dry. This was a process I normally did at night, over several days, even months. If I needed the paint to be a little wet, I added a medium. This process was reserved for when I needed to get around a particular memory, excise it and deal with it. Lately, it was getting harder and harder to cope.

In the past, I knew what to avoid. Anything that brought up particular incidents or feelings, I avoided. Singing was a prominent one. I was grateful that sex hadn’t been ruined for me. Somehow I knew what I’d suffered wasn’t sexual, it was psychological - hate and evil. With the sounds of Slayer hammering around me, my grey canvas became host to deep, crimson red lips and jet black hair, flying, whipping around a white, nude female body, delicate hands feebly trying to protect vulnerable parts, the grey melding with black and white, becoming a thin blade jutting out from the ground, the female trying in vain not to be impaled by it. So much anger. So much hate. I just wanted to get it the fuck out of me. With a brush arranged deftly between my fingers, I took a step back and sat on the edge of the bed, picking up the single glass of wine on the floor and taking a small sip – Cole was here. He was behind me, probably on the bed, watching. I don’t know how long it’d been, maybe hours. It was still light outside so maybe three or four I estimated.