Restoring Us

by Fabiola Francisco

  A waterfall acrylic coffee table sits a few feet in front of the couch with a white tray hosting fashion magazines and a vanilla candle that wafts its delicious scent throughout the apartment. A plush white area rug lies on the floor under the furniture, warming the space and our feet on a cold night.

  Across the room, there’s a white TV console with a flat screen atop it. Inside the console, square openings hold DVDs, books, and more magazines along with fashion accents.

  I walk into the kitchen to make a sandwich. The same gray and white color scheme flows into the kitchen with white cabinets along the wall with frosted glass doors and a gray island housing the stovetop and a linear chandelier hanging above it. I run my hand over the smooth, white marble countertop feeling nostalgic.

  I prepare my sandwich and return to the living room to eat and watch some TV. Thankfully after my morning run to the bathroom, I feel much better.

  Katie enters the apartment an hour later as I’ve finished my sandwich, and I am watching Bridget Jones’s Diary. She drops herself onto the couch and sighs.

  “Unsuccessful with the pool boy?” I ask, mocking her.

  “I think he’s gay.” She sighs and slumps on the couch next to me.

  “Why? Because he hasn’t gone out with you?”

  “Yeah. I mean I’m out there every week, and he hasn’t so much as spoken a word to me.” She pouts.

  “Maybe he has a girlfriend?” I ask, unsure. I know Katie enough to know this will cause major self-doubt and confusion. She’s used to having the attention of men all around her.

  “Maybe. Not that that’s ever stopped a guy in the past,” she says bitterly.

  “Katie, stop being a brat. He’s not a man whore out to get in your pants. Just enjoy the view each week and ogle him from the sidelines.”

  “Yeah, whatever. I’ll get over it quickly,” she says with indifference. It’s true. She gets bored so easily I’m surprised she’s still going out by the pool to take a peek at the pool boy.

  “So, you want to order Chinese and talk about stupid boys?” She asks, hopeful for a distraction.

  “Yes to Chinese. Talk about stupid boys, maybe,” I sigh.

  “Are you going to talk to Matt and tell him you only think of him as a friend?”

  “Yeah. I tried. I know you wanted me to give him a chance, but there’s no spark there. He’s nice. I’m just not feeling it with him.” I shrug my shoulders.

  “Okay. Sounds fair. I just want you to be happy. And you don’t want to lead him on.”

  “Exactly. And I notice his reaction to some things and situations as if we were in a serious relationship. I also can’t shake off the feeling that he wants to mess with Ethan by dating me.” I let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Well, Matt’s always liked you and Ethan did prevent him from asking you to prom. I can see how he’d want to get back at him, but it’s not cool to do that to you.”

  “Yup,” I respond, clipped.

  “What did Ethan say while you were dancing?”

  “He said that he’s only wanted to be with me and something about not knowing how to deal with it when I made a comment about controlling his dick.”

  “Oh. You said that?” Katie asks wide-eyed.

  “Yes. He was hard while we were dancing. He said he couldn’t control it, and I said apparently not. You’re the one who told me how he’s been whoring himself out.” I clench my jaw. The thought that he’s been with anyone else that isn’t me makes me sick.

  “I believe him, though. I do think that’s how he dealt with losing you. You know, not really giving himself to anyone else just fucking through his frustration and pain. He really did love you. He does love you. Your relationship wasn’t insignificant.” I’m not sure why she’s had a change in heart.

  I just shrug. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to keep myself away from him. I’ve already seen that he still owns me completely, and being so close to him almost makes me forget how much he hurt me.

  “Well since you made yourself a sandwich, I guess we’ll order Chinese for dinner? By the way, thanks for making me one, bitch.”

  I laugh at her offended reaction. “You were too busy ogling the pool boy. For all I knew you already had your lunch.” I wink at her and get up to wash my plate.

  “I could have if he wasn’t gay!” She throws her hands up in frustration.

  “Katie, he’s probably not gay. Leave him alone.”

  “Yeah, yeah whatever. By the way, I love that I’m rubbing off on you. Great lunch metaphor.”

  We laugh and talk until we’re suddenly jolted when the door bell rings.

  “Were you expecting someone?” I ask Katie.

  “No,” she says shrugging and stands up to answer the door.

  I hear her say, “Well, you wanted to relax and talk about stupid boys. Here’s one of them.”

  My heart begins to race wondering who is at the door and Katie’s freaking announcement of talking about guys.

  “You ladies were talking about me? I’m flattered.” It’s Ethan. I give Katie the death stare, squinting my eyes at her.

  “Don’t look at me that way. This is payback for you yelling that I was staring at the pool boy while we were out there with him.”

  “I hate you. Besides don’t you think the pool boy knows you’re out there checking him out? It’s March in Chicago for God’s sake. No one else is lying out by the pool,” I say, ignoring the fact that Ethan is standing in the middle of this. He should be used to our bickering by now.

  “Whatever. For all he knows I do this every day. He only witnesses it once a week. And he’s hot!” Katie argues back.

  “Some things never get old. Hi, Ava. I brought you these,” he says, holding a beautiful square vase with white and pink roses. They are placed perfectly inside the vase, fanning out along the edge, barely caressing it with their short stems. “It’s a small housewarming gift and congratulations for the new job. I brought champagne. I thought we could make a toast to you being back and finding your dream job.” He places the flowers on the coffee table in the living room. They’re gorgeous and match flawlessly with the décor in the living room. He has a gift for choosing the perfect flowers.

  This has to be a joke, right? Katie put him up to this. She had to. She’s a bitch like that. I look between them for some sign of conspiracy but they just stare back at me waiting for my response.

  “Um, thank you. You didn’t have to do this. I already celebrated with who I wanted to.” I hate that he just shows up all the time. He’s seriously becoming a persistent ass.

  “Yeah, and now you’re going to celebrate with me.” His voice is firm.

  “Excuse me?” I narrow my eyes. Who does he think he is commanding things?

  “You heard me. It’s a glass of champagne, Ava, not a marriage proposal. Although… I wouldn’t mind that either.” He smiles mischievously.

  “You can leave and take what you brought with you. I don’t need anything from you.” I cross my arms over my chest and notice him flinch. He passes his hand through his hair; such a simple motion, yet he makes it look so sexy. As his hand goes up, I notice something peek out from under his Polo sleeve.

  “If you can manage dancing with me, you can drink a glass of champagne. I promise I won’t touch you… too much. Although I can’t control my buddy’s reaction to seeing you.” He looks down to his pants. He gives me that crooked grin I love that showcases his deep dimples.

  “It’s just a glass of champagne,” Katie says, nodding in reassurance. “I’ll be here, too. Don’t think I’m not drinking. You brought Moet & Chandon. That’s my favorite champagne.” She grabs three flutes from the bar cart off the living room as she laughs lightly at Ethan’s honesty.

  “It’s Ava’s, too.” He removes the cork with a loud pop, such a festive sound. He serves the champagne, and I watch the bubbles foam to the top and slowly sizzle down, leaving smaller bubbles dancing up and down the golden liquid.

  “Here you go,”
Ethan says, handing me a glass, as well as, Katie. “Cheers. Congratulations on your success Ava, and on your return back home,” he says, giving me his perfect dimpled smile, again.

  “Cheers,” Katie and I say in unison. I take a sip of champagne and close my eyes to savor the smooth liquid that trickles down my throat. It’s delicious. He knows me well. This is my absolute favorite.

  “So tell me about your new job. When do you start?” Ethan asks with curiosity. I feel hesitant to talk, to let him in. I know it’ll be hard to keep him at arm’s length.

  “I’ll be working as the gallery curator,” I begin.

  “So you’ll be buying and selling art pieces? Putting together art shows, as well?” I’m surprised he remembers so much about the job I always wanted.

  “Yeah, in a nutshell. There’s more to the job than that, but I will be scouting out collections and artists that would interest the owner of the gallery and the audience. I’ll be keeping record of the artifacts and works of art we bring in and keep an eye out for new up and coming artists. It’s a competitive field, especially here in Chicago, but I’m really excited.”

  “We’re proud of her,” Katie says, winking before taking another sip of champagne.

  “I am very proud of you, too.” Ethan’s eyes dull a bit and his smile reveals sadness. He shakes his head and drinks what’s left of his glass. “I’m sure you’ll be using the knowledge you gained during your time in Europe. Did you love that trip as much as you always dreamed?”

  “Yes! It was amazing, Ethan. You should’ve seen the buildings, the architecture, the statues throughout the streets, the castles. It was like living in a fairytale,” I say excitedly, bouncing up and down on my seat remembering my years in Europe.

  Ethan smiles back at me, relaxing into the sofa and serving us all another round of champagne. I suddenly become aware of how normal this is. How familiar we are with each other and how I’m acting like we are still best friends. We’re not. I sit still again and drink my champagne.

  “I’m happy for you. You look great, and I know you’ll be an amazing curator. What gallery is it? Have I heard of it?”

  “Thank you,” I say, looking away and over at Katie, who’s busy drinking her champagne and smiling between us.

  If I tell him the gallery, he’ll probably show up uninvited. Then again, I’m sure he’ll find a way to get the name of the gallery out of someone. This way I can be prepared if he does. “Webber Art Gallery.” He nods in recognition.

  “Aw, I feel like my divorced parents are actually getting along!” Katie throws her head back laughing. “Thank the fuck you guys can hold a conversation for once. Well, I’m going to order Chinese. You still want some right, Ava? Ethan? You want Chinese food?” Katie asks, looking between us, taking it upon herself to decide that he’s invited to join us for dinner.

  He runs his hand through his hair again contemplating her question and I see that same mark peek under his Polo sleeve again on the inside of his arm. Is that a tattoo? He never mentioned wanting one. I’ll need to ask Katie about that later.

  It’s unbelievable how normal this feels, him being here drinking champagne with us like old times. Except it’s not the old times. A lot has happened to get us here where we are right now at this moment. It took me having cancer, him leaving me, and my escaping to Europe to get to this point in time. A lot of pain, a lot of hurt, a lot of loss.

  “Thanks, Katie, but maybe I should leave you two alone to continue talking about stupid boys.” He winks at me. He’s obviously pleased that he caught me talking about him.

  “Okay, your loss. Their honey chicken is delicious. Since this bitch didn’t make me a sandwich for lunch, I’m starving.” Katie eyes me, her voice filled with accusation.

  “Why did I move back in with you?” I ask her, feigning annoyance at her demands.

  “Because you can’t live without me,” she says, walking into the kitchen to order our dinner and leaving Ethan and I alone.

  “She never changes,” Ethan chuckles.

  “Yeah, at least she’s still the same. I wouldn’t be able to handle everything being totally different,” I blush realizing what I said, and Ethan forms a hard line with his lips.

  “Go out to dinner with me. I’ll show you not everything is different.”

  “No. Give it up, Ethan. We aren’t going out on a date. We aren’t getting back together. It’s over. It’s been over for a long time. You made that choice when you left me.”

  It was so painful, the cancer and the chemo, but I had something and someone to fight for. When he left, it killed me. I’d take the cancer all over again over the emptiness I felt when he abandoned me.

  “You can keep saying no, but I’m going to keep coming back. I always will. The same way I’ve always loved you, Ava Evans. And I know you love me.” He gives my a kiss on the cheek, his lips lingering on my skin a second longer than necessary, before walking into the foyer and out of the apartment, rendering me speechless with my skin burning where his lips just left it.

  Chapter 12

  Ethan

  It was so hard to leave Ava’s apartment. I wanted nothing more than to stay all night, eat dinner with her, talk to her, be near her warmth. But I didn’t want to push my luck. I already stayed longer than I thought she’d let me. I’ll need to thank Katie later for encouraging my stay.

  Ava looked beautiful. Her blush when she realized she was caught talking about me was adorable. I just wanted to embrace her forever in my arms and never let her go; love her with every ounce of my heart. Dancing with her felt heavenly, but being willing to open her home to me again and not walk away like she’s done for the past week and a half was paradise.

  The twinkle in her eyes when she spoke about Europe was perfection. She always got that way when she spoke about going there, but back then, that trip was supposed to be with me, not alone. We had spoken about it so many times.

  We had planned to leave for Europe as soon as we graduated from college. We would take a few months to travel all around; Ava researching, admiring, and learning about art history, and I would keep her company.

  “Are you sure you want to stay in hostels?” I asked Ava.

  “I’m positive. I want to backpack through Europe. I don’t want to go the way I have in the past. I don’t want to go as a tourist only, I want to immerse myself into the culture.”

  “Okay, baby. I just want you to have the best.” I sat back and admired her beauty. She was roaming around her room putting laundry away and organizing her things. She made everything look appealing.

  “I will. I promise. If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t do it,” she told me. It was true. She didn’t hold back with me. We were always open and honest with each other. “Are you okay with backpacking? Man enough to hold out five months of crossing Europe without any five star amenities?” She teased, her eyebrows shooting up in amusement.

  “Oh, I am man enough and you know that.” I pulled her into me by her waist where she could feel just how man I was. I kissed her softly and looked into her hazel eyes. “Anywhere with you is perfect, love.”

  She smiled up at me and wiggled over my hardness. “Oh I know you’re a man.” She winked. “I love you.”

  I grabbed her wrists that were wrapped around me, holding them behind her back, and pushing her back onto her bed as my weight fell over her.

  “Are you ready for me to prove to you how much of a man I am?” I teased her, rocking my dick into her. She was already panting; her eyes wide and excited.

  She reached up to kiss me but I pulled back, releasing her hands that were caught under her body and began kissing her neck, moving down her collarbone to her shoulder. Her hands ran up and down my body, caressing me with love and lust.

  She reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my torso. I helped her finish taking it off by pulling it over my head and threw it on the floor.

  I began to slowly undo each button of her blouse, one by one, kissing and licking the ski
n that I would expose. Once I reached the last button, I undid it, looking at her as I grazed my fingertips over her sensitive skin.

  She tried to pull me up by the shoulders and I let her, dropping my lips to hers lazily as my tongue invaded her mouth, tasting her sweet breath. My hand reached down to her skirt skidding down the zipper. She lifted her hips to allow me to remove it completely. My hand went back up rubbing her clit over her underwear. She was soaked. I removed her drenched underwear and threw them on the floor with the rest of our clothes.

  I eased a finger into her and began to move it in and out at a steady pace. She moaned deeply. I loved watching her come undone before me. And I loved being the reason she was coming undone.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” I said, before attacking her mouth again. We made love that night incessantly.

  We still had time before the trip, but we talked about it often. We were both excited to escape a bit after graduation before starting our lives in the “real” world.

  We would go everywhere, starting with England, where royalty still stands above all, Spain and indulge in the foods and wines, and Paris, the city of love and her favorite city, where I would propose.

  I had bought a ring already, although there was still a year and a half left before graduation. It was perfect. I had no doubt I would spend the rest of my life with Ava, but I knew she wanted to graduate without distractions and planning a wedding would be very distracting.

  Months later, she got diagnosed with cervical cancer and all our plans were put on hold. I just wanted her to survive. At that moment, all I cared about was her and her will to fight. So many people gave up when it came to cancer. I wanted to make sure she didn’t. But seeing her suffer was excruciating, and we all know how well I handled that. She fought, but I gave up.

  I feel like I have every memory of Ava categorized in my mind. It’s still early as I’m heading away from her apartment. Damnit, I should’ve stayed, but I could see in her eyes that it was difficult for her to act so normal. At first I don’t think she really put thought into how carefree she was acting around me. Then, I could tell she noticed this wasn’t the same as other times and became closed off. That gives me hope, though, because her initial reaction was to treat me like me.