Rock'n Tapestries (6 page)

“Asher,
no!”  I pushed back against him, but he held me captive. 

He
frowned down at me. “Whaddya mean, no? You and I make beautiful music together.
I haven’t forgotten.  Let me play you, Chels. You always made the sexiest
little noises when I stroked your clit.”  He ran his nose up and down the
length of my throat.

Jesus
Fucking Christ on toast, no!

I
worked my hands up between the two of us and shoved him with all the force I
could muster. We both stumbled back from each other, both breathing heavily.

“What
the...?” He blinked.

“I
haven’t forgotten either, goddamn you. Goddamn your cheating soul to
hell
! 
I haven’t forgotten opening the back seat of your car during that job you guys
played at Ice Castles.  You asked me to take your guitar out for you and then
you disappeared.  Remember?”  Fury rose in my gut, and I fought to control it.

“Chelsea,
don’t...”

I
was too far gone to stop. “I opened the door and found your cute little hairy
white ass bouncing up and down on the bartender.  I stood there for a minute,
not quite believing what I was seeing.  You turned around and said ‘Shut the
door, baby, it’s freezing out there’.”

 My
chest heaved as I struggled to breathe.  I was hot and cold by turns.  Five
years of pain tumbled across my lips. “You knew I’d find you fucking her,
didn’t you? In fact, you made
sure
of it. And like the dumb bitch that I
am, I did what you told me to do. I closed the door and walked back inside,
your
guitar case in my hand.  We always do what you tell us to do, don’t we?  We’re
content to get by on the scraps you throw our way and count ourselves lucky
that you even bothered to notice us.  I’m done with that bullshit!’  Fists
clenched, I whirled toward to the door. “I deserve better!”

“Why
did you ask me to come along with you if you felt that way?”  he demanded
behind me.

“I
don’t know!” I screamed in frustration.  “Why did you take a fucking job at
Tapestries, knowing I worked there?”

I
spun around. I wanted to see the look on his face when he answered
that
one.

His
shook his head, as though dazed. “I don’t know,” he said so softly I almost
didn’t hear him. “I just...I just need to be around you.”

Well,
that
was an epiphany, but I nodded. I understood. God, what
was
it with the two of us?  We couldn’t be together, but we couldn’t be apart.

I
took a deep, shaky breath and tried to calm down.  After a moment, I felt as
though I could speak.

“It
will have to be friendship or nothing, and you can’t possibly know what a
concession that is on my part.  You have Marybeth and Willow to thank that I’m
even speaking to you.” So far, so good.  I sounded reasonably calm,
very
determined. “I don’t know where this is headed, but my number-one rule is this:
we are not having sex. Ever.  If you can’t abide by that, then we’re through. 
I’m quitting Tapestries, and you can play your games with the next woman stupid
enough to lay her heart bare for you.”

He
looked stricken for a  moment.  I could see the pulse hammering in his neck. He
opened and closed his mouth several times before he spoke, “Friendship it is
then.  I can’t ask for more than that after what I put you through.”

Holy
shit
!  It was as
close to an apology as I’d ever get from Asher Pratt.  And I knew
that
was
a major concession on his part. 

Dinner
at Red Robin was strained at first, but we worked through it.  I’d needed to
give voice to the anger and resentment I’d carried around with me, and with
that out of the way, the night went smoothly.

We
spent a lot of time catching up with each other. I asked about his mom, only to
find out that she’d died three years earlier from breast cancer. 

“I’m
so sorry to hear that.  I liked your mom.” Debbie Pratt had been a tall, thin,
elegant woman, with kind eyes and blond hair. Though I’d only met her a few
times, I think she really liked me.  Curiously, Asher didn’t look much like
her.  He’d never spoken of a father though, and I’d never seen one the few
times I’d been at his house.

“Thanks. 
I can think about her now without feeling like I want to throw up.” He
swallowed and folded the corner of his napkin into a small triangle. I could
see talking about her was hard for him. “She was in a lot of pain toward the
end.  I kept wishing it would be over for her then I’d feel bad for thinking
that.  When someone you love hurts like that, it makes it easier to let them
go.  Does that make me sound horrible?”

“No,
it makes you sound realistic.” I thought of my own maternal grandmother’s death
from colon cancer.  “No one wants to see someone they love in pain.”

“I
wanted to keep her home with me, but she wanted to die at Presby among the
people she’d worked with all her life.”

“She
worked at UPMC?”  Asher had kept his private life very close to the vest when
we’d dated before.  I didn’t really know much about him at all.

“Ironically,
she was an Oncology nurse, an RN.  I don’t know if it made it easier or harder
that she knew what she had to go through with her cancer, but she was the
strongest person I knew.  I really miss her.”  He picked up the spoon by his
plate and twirled it in his fingers as he stared off into space. “I’d give
anything to be able to bounce things off of her sometimes. She was a voice of
wisdom when I was clueless.”

“And
your father?”

“No
father.  No father in my life
ever
,” he said hastily, dropping his
gaze.  He must have realized he’d inadvertently given me a glimpse into a
source of pain.  He smiled, and his expression relaxed. “I’m living in the same
house as I was when we...before. In Oakland.  Mom had a large life insurance
policy, so I can follow my dream and keep playing with the Turtles.  We’re
hoping to get signed someday...,”  he scowled and looked away,  “...though that
seems less and less likely the older I get.”

“Don’t
give up.  You’re very good.” I smiled at him, my chin in my hand, as I watched
him across the table.

“Thanks. 
I think about giving up sometimes, but I always try to use that doubt for
fuel.  Other than that damned bartender’s certificate I have, I don’t know how
to do anything else.”

“Well,
I’ve heard rave reviews about your margaritas.  And Willow says your Long
Island iced teas should be preceded by the word ’nuclear’.“

He
laughed then, and all trace of sadness left his face.  “They
are
pretty
potent.”

“You’ll
have to make me one.  When I’m not working, of course.”  I looked at my watch. 
It was 10:00 p.m.  “It’s getting late.  I’ll have to get you home.”

His
face went blank with surprise.  “It’s early yet.  What’s your hurry?”

In
truth, I was exhausted, mostly from the emotional impact of being around him
all day. I wanted to retreat to a safe place and have ice cream.

“Surely
you didn’t think I’d make this an all-nighter.  I have to work tomorrow.”

“So
do I,” he said.  “But it’s Saturday night.  I thought maybe we’d catch some
bands and...”

Suddenly,
I felt as though I were in the driver’s seat. 
He
wanted
me
to do
something with him instead of the other way around.  I remembered begging him
the first time we’d dated to spend time with me on a Saturday night, but his
best buds always came first.   More often than not, I sat home alone and
fumed. 

“Nah,
I’m tired.  You can do whatever you want after I drop you off at Tapestries,
but I’m going home to my bed and my cat. You ready?”  I lifted my eyebrows and
glanced at him before picking up my purse and sliding out of the booth.

The
look on his face gave me an odd sense of satisfaction.  Asher was the one
feeling the sting of disappointment for a change.

After
I signed the lease for the apartment, time seemed to come to a halt.  I only
had to wait two weeks, but it felt like twenty years.

Mom
didn’t take it well.

 “C’mon,
Mom, I’m only twenty minutes away, for God’s sake.  It’s not like I’m leaving
the state or anything.”  My bedroom was filled with packed boxes, and they sent
Mom into fits of weeping every time she looked in my room.

In
fact, Mom cried the whole time I was packing.  I understood, I really did. 
Their baby was leaving the nest.  Mom seemed to feel as though a door was
closing for her and Dad, but I saw a door being flung wide open for me.  I was
about to start a completely new chapter of my life, and I couldn’t wait.

“I
know.  But this house is going to be so quiet without you here.”  She put her
face in her hands, and the waterworks started again. 

Finally,
Dad showed up in the doorway of my room.  He hated to see Mom cry, but he
didn’t quite know what to do with her either.

I
turned a pleading gaze to him. I still had half my room to pack, and I wanted
to get it done.

 “C’mon,
Barb, I’ll take you to lunch. Chelsea needs to finish here,” Dad said quietly,
averting his eyes from me.  I knew he felt as bad as she did, but it wasn’t my
dad’s style to show much emotion. He draped an arm around my mom’s shoulders.

Mom
nodded, her face still in her hands, and allowed Dad to pivot her out of my
room.

I
blew out a breath and got to work.

Asher
showed up on moving day with the rest of the Dirty Turtles—Mike, Joe, Rick, and
Spencer. Moving went smoothly with all of those extra hands, and I was grateful
for the help. It was late- October, and we were getting our first snow.

It
was noon by the time we got everything into my apartment.  I bought pizza, we
all relaxed for a while, and then the other guys left. Mom  put things away in
my kitchen while Dad and Asher reassembled my bed and other furniture. 

We
organized, moved, and cleaned the whole day.  Sometime in late afternoon, I
noticed my dad slumped in the recliner in the living room, head back and eyes
closed. 

“Why
don’t you and Dad go to dinner and go home?” I suggested to Mom, who was doing
a final inspection of my bathroom.  “I think I can take it from here.”

“Are
you sure?” She turned to me, concern all over her face.

“Dad’s
exhausted.  So are you,” I said gently.  “Go home.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll
stay and help her, Mrs. Whitaker,” Asher interjected.  “We’re almost done
anyway.”

Mom
glanced dubiously between Asher and me.  She knew how hard I’d taken it the
last time we broke up.  I’m sure she was wondering if I’d lost my mind.

There
were hugs all around and tears in everyone’s eyes, even mine.  “My little
girl’s all grown up,” Dad said. He and Mom reluctantly left, with many backward
glances and little heartbroken waves.

When
the door closed behind them, I sighed and turned back to Asher.  “So. What’s
left to do?”

He
had the largest screwdriver I had ever seen in his hand.  “I just have to
finish putting up the blinds in the living room, and we’re done.” He smiled. 
“And then I have a surprise for you.”

I
helped him with the blinds then he disappeared for about an hour.  I used that
time to unpack my toiletries in the bathroom and put some rugs down on the old
linoleum in the kitchen.  The fuzzy purple and black carpets from my bedroom at
home clashed horribly with all the Harvest Gold, but it was all I had at the
moment.  It would be a while before I could afford new rugs.

Asher
came back with three dozen roses, a bottle of champagne, and takeout from the
Wonton Buffett downtown.  He deposited all of this on my table then ran back out
to his car. I watched him struggle across the alley with a large, flat
rectangle wrapped in brown paper.

“Asher,
you didn’t have to do all this for me,” I scolded, though I was secretly
pleased he’d made an effort.

“Of
course I did.  This is a big moment. I wanted to be the first one to have
dinner with you in your new apartment.” He furrowed his brow and looked at me. 
“May I be permitted to congratulate you with a kiss on the cheek?”

“Yes!”
I laughed.  He kissed me. Paco Rabanne again.  My nostrils went wide as I
inhaled.

“You
need to stop with the Paco Rabanne.”

“Oh,
you like it?”  He put the roses in the vase he’d brought with him and set them
in the middle of the table. 

“You
know I do.”

He
pulled two plates from my cupboard, set them on the table, and then turned
around for silverware.  “I guess I do remember you liking Paco Rabanne,” he
said absently.

I
hadn’t seen him bring them in, but he had several partially burnt candles. He
lit them and set them around the apartment.

“If
you’re setting this up to be a romantic evening, you can just stop.  It’s not
going to end up where you hope it will.”

“I
do want it to be a romantic evening, but I have no plans beyond this kitchen
table. I’m just very excited for you,” he assured me. “Please sit down and I’ll
serve you.”  He was scooping beef with snow peas onto plates for both of us. He
laid an egg roll alongside the mound of food and set it in front of me. 

The
champagne was popped open as well, though we had to drink it out of Styrofoam
cups.

Asher
hoisted his up into the air.  “To Chelsea and new beginnings!”

I
touched his cup with mine and wondered what he meant by that.

We
finished eating and made small talk.  I was in no hurry for the meal to end. 
It seemed as though my fairy godmother had waved her wand over both of us, and
all was right with the world.

We
cleaned up the table.  I insisted on doing the dishes before we went into the
living room. My mind was on the large flat package he’d brought with him, but I
was in no hurry to open that either.  He’d thought of someone besides himself
this day, and I wanted to savor the moment.

The
soap bubbles in the sink reminded me of the day I’d been locked in the freezer,
but it didn’t freak me out.  I simply mused over what had caused the universe
to align in such a way that Asher Pratt was there for me in my moment of need. 
Accident of fate?  I don’t know, but I couldn’t help thinking it was a good
accident.

“Hurry
up!” Asher called from the living room. “I can’t wait for you to see this!”

“Gimme
a minute.”  I grabbed a dish towel and dried my hands.

He
made me sit in the brown recliner that came with the apartment before he stood
the package on end in front of me.  It was at least three-by-four feet in size,
wrapped in brown kraft paper. 

“Go
ahead,” he urged, his eyes bright.  “Open it.”

I
took hold of the paper at the top and ripped it down the middle. It was a
picture of some kind.  As I continued to pull off the wrapping, I got a sense
of what it was.  The food in my stomach solidified into a solid lump, matched
only by the lump forming in my throat.

“Do
you like it?”  He propped the picture up from behind.  The look on his face
brought tears to my eyes. 

I
inhaled slowly, painfully.  I had forgotten that Asher was also an artist. In
fact, he’d been a damned good watercolor artist when I dated him. He’d won
numerous awards in the Pittsburgh area for his colorful abstracts.

The
painting itself was gorgeous, but it was the subject matter that was
threatening to fuck me up.  On the day that I’d graduated from high school,
he’d taken me to Kennywood, a local amusement park, to ride the roller
coasters. 

The
day had been magical.  Sunny, warm, perfect.  He’d treated me like a queen that
day.  There’d been no hint of the storm to come.  I didn’t know then that the
biggest roller coaster I’d ever ride would be Asher Pratt.

He’d
taken a picture of me that day, standing in front of the Thunderbolt, just
before we got on.  I was wearing a pink sundress with a white Kennywood
baseball cap turned backward on my head, a blend of innocence and promise,
oblivious to what was coming.   I had a big grin on my face, one hand on top of
my head, my hair blowing in the breeze.

He’d
recreated that moment for me in watercolor on canvas.

“Oh,
Asher.”  It was said in a tortured whisper.  My throat had closed up.

He
bent over and asked again, “Do you like it?”

I
looked up at him.  I knew my eyes were brimming with tears.  He’d captured a
moment of my life when I was deeply in love with him, so alive with optimism
for the future that it oozed from my very pores.  How I wanted to go back to
that moment, sink to my knees, and soak it in.

I
couldn’t speak.  I put my shaking hands over my mouth as my eyes spilled over. 
Something broke loose inside me—hope?  I knew it was dangerous and would need
to be recaptured and imprisoned again.  But for that moment, I let it go.

“It’s
beautiful.  I remember that day like it was yesterday.”

“I
remember it too.  I think that was the single greatest day of my life.” He
smiled, and his eyes grew misty as he looked at the picture.  “You were just as
beautiful then as you are now.”

“Stop
it.”  I practically spit it at him. 

I
watched him curl his hands into fists. His eyes were as round as a summer moon
as he stared down at me.  Things were moving there—he was thinking—but he took
care not to show too much emotion on his face.  It was all there in his eyes.

“What
are you doing?  What do you want with me?”

He
exhaled in a slow hiss of air, shaking his head slightly. My stare must have
been equally intense; he was the first to look away. “I dunno, Chelsea.”

“I’m
not going to let you carve my heart out again.  You understand that, don’t
you?”

He
glanced  down at me.  “I never meant to carve your heart out the first time,
baby.  What we had was real.”

I
nodded, surprised to hear him say something like that.  “But I wasn’t enough
for you, was I? I just don’t have what it takes to hold your attention.”

His
larynx bobbed up and down as he swallowed.  “You should never think that.  You
were more than enough.”

“Then
what was it?”

“I
just…” His eyes were haunted.  “I just can’t…”

“Can’t
what?  Love someone?  Make a commitment? For fuck’s sake, it’s what everyone
out there hopes for!  We had it. We
had
it, goddamn you, and you threw
it away with both hands!”

The
troubled look he wore quickly morphed into panic.  It was my first real clue
that I had not been the problem in our relationship.  It wasn’t that I hadn’t
been good enough.  Something inside Asher’s psyche had sunk our boat.  But
what?

“This
was a bad idea.  I should go,” he mumbled, turning away.

I
stood quickly, leaned the painting against the couch, and stepped in front of
him.  I flattened my hands on his pecs.  He wasn’t leaving until I got some
answers.