Becoming His Muse, Part Three

by KC Martin

  My mother saw the good in me. Even before she got crazy. Now she’s gone. She was always my protector. She did her best to protect me from my father. She did the best she could do. When he died, after cracking his skull on the counter top, slipping drunk one night after sending my mother to the hospital yet again, I found him bloody and not breathing on the tiled floor in the wee hours of the morning. His hat had fallen off and rolled toward the front door. He always wore that Fedora, to the day he died. His stylish armor. I picked it up. Put it on. Vowed to myself that I would never end up like him.Vowed to my mother that I would take care of her, that she would never live in fear again. I coiled up my fear and hatred in that hat. I kept it close. My stylish armor. Soon I wasn’t myself without it. It became a part of me. The latch that kept the door to the past locked up and safe.

  Until you came along. With your bright-eyed innocence, fierce passion, tender beauty, and indomitable strength. The hat, the hat. You were always urging me to get rid of the hat. I think you saw the good in me without it. The part of me stripped of armor was the part of me that you loved. And yet I never let myself feel safe without it. Until it was too late.

  It’s gone now. A sacrifice to the East River. My parents are gone, the past is gone, my teaching days are gone, you’re gone, even the novel looks like it’s gone. So I’m free now. I can’t tell if it’s a beginning or an ending. Both perhaps. I’m like that bare branch unfurling a vulnerable green tip that will soak up the sun and rain until it colors and falls and gives up its place to a dusting of snow.

  I will never forget you.

  Love, Logan

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  I cried and ached and cried and curled up in my covers and kicked them off and longed to hold Logan and say I was sorry too and I forgive you and sometimes you have to break in order to be made whole again and even if you feel too broken to fix, wholeness is possible through love and I love you enough to weather the healing through winters and springs and over and over again.

  When my tears were spent and I felt more peace in my heart than I’d felt in a long time I got up, showered, brushed my teeth, and got dressed.

  Tess made a few cheeky comments but couldn’t hide her relief at seeing the me she was used to seeing again. I told her I was planning to head back to school the next day but I had an important phone call to make.

  ***

  I dial from Tess’s landline. My mother answers the phone.

  “Tess? Is everything all right?”

  “It’s me, Mom.”

  I hear her tiny gasp. “Oh, Ava! Are you okay, oh my darling. Will you please come home? You need to come home.”

  “I need to talk to Dad.”

  “You do? He’s just in the den. I’ll get him.”

  This will be the first test. Will he step away from his sports to take a call from his estranged daughter?

  In the distance, through the receiver, I hear his deep impatient voice. “Just pause it Rita. It’s the blue button at the bottom. God dammit, the blue button!” I hear the receiver being handled.

  “Hello? Ava?” His voice is slightly softer for me. Even so, hearing his confident voice calls up my livid rage. I try to contain it. I have to negotiate after all.

  “Hello, Dad.”

  “So you’ve finally come to your senses?” He’s trying to be jovial in his bully-ish way, but I don’t want to fight or dance around. I’m ready to move on.

  “Is it true you filed a restraining order against Logan O’Shane?”

  “Only for your protection. Ava, I—”

  “—Is it also true that you’re representing the college in a suit against Logan’s publisher to prevent them from publishing his novel?”

  “That so called writer is an opportunistic slime-ball who took advantage of my daughter and —”

  “—Are you going to force me to hang up?”

  “I will not let him get away with using my daughter, of all the low-down, dirty scoundrels. If he’s written anything about you … That damned book will never see the light of day!”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “I damn well can! The law says—”

  “—It’s censorship. And while you might succeed in tangling up the manuscript in legal red tape for a while, you can’t bury it forever.”

  “But what if he’s written about you? It could be libel. I need to protect—”

  “—It’s a novel. Fiction. It’s not about me.”

  “He shouldn’t procure any success after what he’s—”

  “—Dad, stop it! I love him.”

  Silence.

  “Did you hear me? I love Logan O’Shane.”

  “You can’t possibly…”

  “I can’t possibly what? Have a mind of my own? Have my own taste, my own desires, my own dreams? I can’t possibly what? Be grown up! And ready to live my own life, on my own terms? I can’t possibly have ideas and experiences that are different from my parents?!”

  “Ava, I only—”

  “—You didn’t only anything! You have bullied and bear-shoved your way into places you don’t belong. Using your strength and your influence, you’ve used people who respect you, like Dean Ascott, to serve your own agenda.”

  “Just to protect you, Ava! When your mother told me about that video I exploded with rage.”

  “So why not sue Derrick and Casey? They crossed so many lines and hurt so many people. Or there’s Sheriann with her exposé, but you know what? They’ll all say it’s in the name of art, and freedom of expression and all that. So good luck there. And I hate what they did, don’t get me wrong. But what happened between me and Logan didn’t hurt anyone.” No one except ourselves. And we can fix that if we try.

  “I fell for him, Dad. As painful as that might be for you to hear. I’ve fallen in love with Logan, and as much as I’d like to say there’s nothing you can do about it, I know that’s not true, because you’ve already done some pretty horrible things. I’m asking you to stop now.”

  “What exactly are you asking for?”

  “Get rid of the restraining order and tell Dean Ascott to drop the lawsuit.”

  He’s silent for a few moments. “If I agree to that, will you return to school and get your degree?”

  “That’s up to the Dean and the College Board.”

  “I’ll talk to them.”

  I sigh, of course, he will. He can’t just let things unfold in their own way. He has to control what he can. And I’m going to have to let him if I want to help Lowell and have any hope of seeing Logan again.

  “I want to see my daughter graduate. I want to see you walk across that stage, Ava. That’s the deal.”

  “Fine. Tell Dean Ascott I have one condition.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s between him and me.”

  When I hang up the phone my body is shaking and I’m all sweaty. My heart takes a long time to slow to a normal pace.

  “Well done,” says Tess, stepping out from the kitchen. “You know, you probably would make a good lawyer.” She winks and smiles and ducks out of the way as my fake-slap comes winging through the air.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Tess drops me off at the train station the next morning.

  “Good luck,” she says.

  I’m not sure if it’s luck I need but rather stamina and fortitude.

  I give her a hug and tell her I’ll be back to see her soon.

  “Don’t count on Sponge Bob,” she says. “I’m burning those pajamas.”

  We part with laughter and smiles only a few days after I arrived broken-hearted and teary. So much can change in a few days or a month or a year, and so much does. I think I’m going to have to get used to that.

  ***

  When I arrive on campus, I go straight to the Dean’s office and continue my negotiating.

  “Who came in second for the Most Promising Artist Award?”

  I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this question, but after looking in his fil
es, Dean Ascott confirms it.

  “Good. I want the award to go to him.”

  “The judges already made their decision, Ava. They would have revoked it if you’d been expelled, but as we’ve ironed out those unsightly creases, the judges stand by their initial assessment. Plus, your father’s aware of the accolade. We can’t take it away now.”

  “I won’t accept it.”

  “You have to. You can do what you want with the money. You can give it to Ronnie Larkin if you want to.”

  “He wouldn’t take it. I know him.”

  Dean Ascott gives me a look of genuine concern. “Off the record, won’t you need it now? I know your father’s awfully angry about what happened.”

  “My father is a bully. He’s bullied you into launching a case against Logan for his manuscript, just to get me back to school.”

  Dean Ascott sighs. “I couldn’t care less about that novel but he really did breach our student/teacher policy. He shouldn’t be able to benefit from any work he did here.”

  “But that’s his work. You know he taught his students well. Ruby and all the writing students benefitted from that. And they’ll attest to it. He even taught me an incredible amount, albeit with unorthodox breach-of-policy but consensual methods.”

  “Ava—”

  “—You’ve stripped him of his title and put him on a college teaching blacklist so it’s not like he’s going to get a chance to do it again. All he has left is his novel, and his shattered reputation.”

  “Which wasn’t great to begin with.” Dean Ascott frowns.

  “And you knew that going in. We all did.”

  “He’s still responsible for his actions. The rules are very clear.”

  “With all due respect, Dean Ascott, this isn’t about rules. This is about people. You’re breaking your own rules by making exceptions for me, because of my father’s pressure. I’m now asking you to make an exception for Logan. For my sake. Tell my father you’re going to drop the case so Logan can publish the book he worked so hard to create. And give Ronnie the award and the money that goes with it. He deserves it. I’ll tell my father I withdrew myself from the competition. He’ll be mad at me, not you.”

  “But then what will you do, Ava?”

  “After I graduate?”

  He nods.

  “I don’t know.”

  I look past his desk, through the sliding glass door onto the balcony. There, on a dark fall night many months ago, I chose to say yes to something I didn’t fully understand, something that has taken me to the edge of myself and back again. It’s over now. I know that. Logan was saying goodbye in his letter. It was an ending. I know that, too.

  Beyond the balcony, against the bright backdrop of a blue sky, the spring trees spread and arch, their tips unfurling bright green ribbons of leaves.

  I think of Logan looking out a different window, at different trees.

  The thing about endings is that they contain beginnings. Like a tree that loses its leaves in the fall, looking lifeless all through the winter, inside each seemingly dead branch lies everything needed for new leaves to form. They’re just waiting for the right conditions to be reborn.

  ***

  I have two exams left to write. Ruby has three. We both write our last one on the same day and then make plans to celebrate at Mick’s.

  I smile when Ruby shows up with her arm around Jonathan. My smile is even wider when Owen and Ronnie show up together.

  “Well, Girlfriend,” says Owen. “You gave us all quite a shock.” He shakes his head in admirable disbelief. “How did you get away with that?”

  I can’t help blushing. “As you are well aware, I didn’t get away with it.”

  “The world’s full of bad art,” says Jonathan. “It’s best just to ignore it and move on.”

  “I agree,” says Ruby giving him a peck on the cheek.

  We’ve earned our degrees but the official convocation, with the hats, the gowns, and the walking across the stage formalities, won’t be for a couple more weeks. When the time comes, I will move through that ‘proud moment’ for the sake of my parents. I will take the requisite family photos, and I give my best smile because I know the picture will sit on my parent’s mantel for years to come and I don’t want to look like I have a chip on my shoulder or bear a mean grudge. I know this challenge will pass in time. Part of it already has.

  “Owen and I are road-tripping to New Orleans,” says Ronnie, sliding into the booth. “Anyone else want to come?”

  Jenny says, “Sounds like fun. Can I bring a friend?” I’m guessing it’s the leading man from one of her plays. I heard from Ruby they’ve gotten hot and heavy.

  “Ruby and I are going to check out places to live in Princeton,” says Jonathan. “But I’m not inviting any of you along,” he says, winking. “I get Ruby all to myself. Finally!”

  “What about you, Ava?” says Owen. “Going to hide out at home until the rest of the drama dies down?”

  “My running home for cover days are over I think.”

  “Did you ever find out what happened to Logan?” says Ruby. “Why he left so abruptly?”

  All my friends wait for an answer. I see real concern and empathy on all their faces.

  I nod. “But none of it matters now. It’s over. He’s gone. School’s over. It’s time for a new beginning.” They don’t press me for more information. They know I’ve been through a lot already.

  Jonathan holds up his beer. “Here’s to new beginnings!”

  As we toast and guzzle, Sheriann walks in, sees us, and heads to our booth. I don’t know who invited her. I send a mock glare Ruby’s way. She shrugs innocently, a ‘wasn’t me’ look on her face.

  Sighing heavily, Sheriann plops down on the edge of the booth next to Owen, forcing him to squish even closer to Ronnie.

  “I just met with Dean Ascott. He’s marked my exposé paper himself and is giving it an ‘A’ but only if I bury it. He made me sign something. I can’t even talk about it.”

  I smile to myself, wondering if my father had anything to do with that. For once, I’m grateful for his meddling.

  “Oh, well. I’ll find something else to write about.” She takes a swig for Owen’s beer and looks over at Jenny. “I bet you’ve got some good stories.”

  Jenny laughs and begins to recount one. I slip out of the booth to go to the restroom.

  Ronnie follows, catching up to me as I’m passing the bar.

  “Listen, Ava, I know what you did for me.”

  “I didn’t do anything for you, Ronnie.”

  “You won that award fair and square, and then you gave it up for me.”

  I sigh and lean against the bar. “I’m beginning to wonder if anything in life is fair and square. I’ll never know if my father being on the board, him being friends with the Dean, and the Dean knowing the judges, had anything to do with the final results.”

  “I’m sure it didn’t. Your work is amazing, Ava. All on its own.”

  I hold up my hand to stop him. I’m not looking for praise.

  “What I do know for sure is that you came in second place fair and square. I didn’t step out just because I think you deserve it more than I do.” He’s gearing up to protest, but I shake my head, because that’s not the point I’m trying to make.

  “I’m going to try to make it on my own, Ronnie. As you know, I’ve had a lot handed to me. You haven’t. You really earned this award with your hard work and talent. Don’t you dare walk away from it.”

  He grins. “Hey, if it’s not going to you, I don’t want it to go to anyone else.” He slides his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t worry, hon. Things have a way of working out better than any of us can imagine.”

  He can’t know how much I’m counting on that.

  “In fact,” he continues. “I just found out my uncle has a friend who’s got a place in the Bronx and he’ll be away for the summer. If you want, we can share.”

  I laugh. “I just might take you up on that.”
>
  “So what are you going to do now?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.” There’s no harm in keeping more secret.

  Chapter Thirty

  The next morning. I leave campus without saying goodbye to anyone.

  I have just enough money left in my account to buy a ticket to New York, a few subway tickets, and a couple of meals.

  On the train, I tuck my bag and one wrapped painting onto the overhead shelf and then I settle into my seat and pull out the thick envelope I’ve been hauling around. Written on the back of the envelope, in Lowell’s handwriting, is an address in Soho. I’ve already memorized it.

  As the train pulls out of the station, I flip through the bound galley pages. A passage catches my eye.

  He had never felt this way about anyone before. Not even himself. It was a feeling as raw and brutal and encompassing as the awareness of death, as the bone chilling realization of his own mortality.

  I flip a few more pages.

  Liam leaned toward Anna. He had only one thing on his mind. “Aren’t you dying to get out of here?”

  Immune to Liam’s charm, her gaze flitted about the room.

  “You mean, together?” She laughed, and Liam felt as if the toothpick she was holding has just pierced his heart. He turned away, mortified.

  He knew he wasn’t worthy of such a woman, but no one else was supposed to know it. He poured on the slick charm, trying to shock and intimidate, trying to corner her into his seductive trap. The one thing on his mind was overpowering him with a vengeance. He was determined to have her. Even if he had to break her.

  I close the pages, not sure if I’m ready to read this. I watch the scenery roll by. Verdant fields, blossoming shrubs, turned-over earth ready to be planted.

  Does his writing matter that much? It does and it doesn’t. It matters because he created it, and it takes effort to create things. I told him that once. Yes, it matters. Not because of what it is but because of where it came from, and how it was created. Inspiration, experience, change. And the courage to create something that didn’t exist before.