Jumping Puddles

by Rachael Brownell

  Blake and I manage to avoid Aubrey for a few hours. As if she knew we were decent again, she knocks on the front door, hollering for me moments later to let her in. She must have heard the shower turn off or something. Her timing is always impeccable. It’s actually kind of scary.

  After introductions are out of the way, Aubrey immediately starts in on me about ignoring Zach’s phone calls. He’s been calling me every few days since we all had dinner together, trying his best to convince me to give modeling a shot. He’s even offered to find me an agent if I don’t want to sign on with him. I’ve been giving it more thought after each conversation. Aubrey is harping on me, too, but not the same way Zach is. He’s talking me through things, and she’s attempting to guilt me.

  I stopped taking his calls a few days ago. I knew Blake was coming home, and I haven’t told him anything about the situation yet. I figured we’d spend a few days together and talk about it. If I can get him to meet and talk with Zach, I’m hoping maybe he’ll see this might be a good opportunity for me. I haven’t committed to anything yet, but I want to. At least, I think I do. I don’t know. I’m hoping Blake will keep an open mind and help me make an informed decision. His opinion means a lot to me.

  “I told you, I’m spending the rest of this week with Blake, and then we can discuss it again.” I give her a pleading look, motioning toward Blake with my eyes.

  “I thought you told her you didn’t want to get involved with the modeling thing?”

  I’ve been avoiding having this conversation with him. “It’s not that I do or don’t want to do it, you guys. I want to think about it some more.”

  “You’re entertaining the idea still?” I can hear the shock in Blake’s voice.

  “Can we please talk about something else?”

  “No. I think we need to talk about this, in private,” he states, looking Aubrey dead in the eye. She gets the message loud and clear, letting herself out without a word.

  “I can tell you’re mad. I haven’t committed to anything, just so you know. I was waiting to talk it out with you. Face to face.”

  “Didn’t you hear anything I was telling you that night? You don’t want that lifestyle, Charlie. It’s not for you. Those girls, they tear each other apart. The drugs, the partying, it’ll destroy you.”

  “Are you assuming I’d get mixed up in that? I wouldn’t. You, of all people, should know that.”

  “You say that now, but you never know. One bad decision…” He shrugs.

  “You make it sound like I’ve already made a bad decision.” I’m hollering at him, anger dripping from every word I speak.

  “It sounds to me like you’re about to.”

  “I already told you I haven’t committed to anything,” I reply with a huff. I need to get my anger in check or this is going to end badly.

  “Then why does it matter if you’ve been avoiding calls from Aubrey’s manager?”

  “Because he’s waiting for my answer. I told him I wanted to talk it over with you first.”

  “So talk. Tell me why you think this is a good idea.”

  Blake should know better than to challenge me. I straighten my back and start listing all the positive aspects of modeling. He listens, letting me speak my peace. Never once does his expression change. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even blink. Still as a statue, Blake waits patiently for me to finish. Once I’m done, I nod, letting him know it’s his turn.

  “I don’t even know where to start. First of all, and I’m pretty sure we already covered this, you can’t guarantee you won’t get caught up in the lifestyle that so many of the models are dragged into. You can try, but you can’t promise you won’t so don’t.

  “Second, I’m not sure who this Zach guy thinks he is, but he’s full of shit. He can’t promise you any amount of money. He can’t guarantee you any of those jobs. Every model starts at the bottom, working their way up as they prove themselves.

  “Third, there’s a lot more to modeling than showing up and smiling. As a photographer, I would push you to give me emotion, to give me more than you thought you could possibly give. That’s just for one good shot. Think about how hard they’ll push you for an entire photo spread. Sure it gets easier once you figure out how to trigger the real emotions hidden deep down inside, but that comes in time. It doesn’t happen without hard work and dedication.

  “Last, you can’t make this a part time gig, Charlie. It’s all or nothing. There’s no way you’ll be able to balance modeling, traveling, and school at the same time.” Pausing to catch his breath, Blake doesn’t give me but a moment to take in what he’s just said before he continues.

  “Have you talked to Alice and Scott about this? Asked their opinion?” When I look away, he knows my answer. I’ve talked to them three or four times since first meeting Zach and failed to mention it to them. “I’m sure they wouldn’t like the idea any more than I do.”

  “Stop!” I shout, cutting him off before he can continue talking to me like I’m a child. “It’s obvious you don’t like the idea. In fact, I’m pretty sure you hate it. You can stop breaking it down for me. I hear you loud and clear.”

  Leaving Blake on the couch, I push the slider open and take a seat on the patio. I need fresh air. Maybe it’ll help to clear my thoughts. The only thing I can hear right now is Blake’s disapproval. His words, although truthful, were still a little harsh. He’s never been one to beat around the bush. He’s always told me the truth no matter what. I didn’t expect this situation to be any different, but I also didn’t think he would be this against everything. He may not be a fan of the industry, but he could be supportive. If not of my decision, of me.

  Will he support me if I decide to do this?

  I can’t imagine he will.

  What do I do?

  If I decide to do this, to try at least, I may lose Blake. I can’t imagine my life without him in it. He’s been there for me for so long now. We’ve had our ups and down and had to battle to get to where we are now. I don’t want to ruin that. Modeling could put a detour in our relationship if it isn’t the end of the road for us completely.

  Am I willing to take the risk?

  Blake has gone to bed by the time I come back inside. The sun set a while ago, darkness falling, surrounding me. I wanted to come back in and try talking to Blake again with a level head, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up. I wasn’t ready. I’m still not ready. The chill in the air is what finally drove me inside for the night.

  Leaning against the door frame of my bedroom, I watch as Blake tosses and turns. I hate going to bed angry. I’m never able to sleep soundly, and it looks like our fight is having the same effect on Blake. I contemplate waking him, but he spent the day traveling on a plane. His body is still in a different time zone. Letting him sleep is a better option. We can talk it out in the morning, assuming he wants to talk to me at all.

  My sleep is as restless as Blake’s. I’m not used to having someone else in the bed with me. Every time he moves, I wake up. Every time I roll into him, I wake up. It’s a long night and by the time morning arrives, I’m even more tired than when I crawled into bed.

  I find Blake in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee when I finally give up on sleeping. Tossing me a weak smile, he passes me a steaming cup with cream and sugar already mixed in.

  We both sit down at the breakfast bar, sipping our coffee in uncomfortable silence. Every time I think he’s about to speak up and say something, he clears his throat and takes another drink.

  “I can’t do this. I don’t want to fight.” Finding my voice, I attempt to slice through the tension in the room. I don’t want to spend the precious time we have together fighting with him.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, either.”

  “Good. Then, we’re done fighting.”

  “Are we? Did you make your decision?”

  “No, I haven’t. I have no idea what I want to do.” That’s a lie. I know what I want to do, but I’m scared to lose Blake over it. I
should tell him that.

  “Charlie, I love you, more than you’ll ever begin to understand. I’m not trying to fight with you or control you or make this decision for you. But I can’t support you if this is something you want. I just… I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Why? I don’t understand. Supporting me is a choice. You don’t have to like my decision or agree with it. That had nothing to do with supporting me.”

  “It has everything to do with it. This will change you”—he points to my heart—“here.”

  “I control my heart, Blake. You’ve been in the business for a while now, and it hasn’t changed you. It won’t change me, either. Asking me not to do this would be like me asking you to give up your camera.”

  “That’s completely different.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “My camera is my career.”

  “And this could be mine.” Bowing my head, I know what my answer is. I can’t look at Blake while I say it. I don’t want to see the look of disapproval on his face. I don’t want to see the door close behind him when he leaves me. “We shouldn’t have to sacrifice who we are, who we want to become, to be together, Blake. You have your camera, I’ll have modeling.” A single tear forms in the corner of my eye, and I do the best I can to blink it away. “This will not change me, but it will change us. It already is. I want to do this, Blake. I’m sorry you don’t approve.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I’ll always love you, Blake. That’ll never change. I always thought you were the one, from the moment I met you. I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

  “We are meant to be, Charlie. One day you’ll realize that.”

  CLASSES ARE STARTING next week. I should be worrying about buying books and where to park on campus. Instead, I’m worried about what to wear to a gala tonight so Zach can show me off.

  It sounds stupid, the gala. I’m not an art lover. People see things when they look at paintings that I don’t. It’s not that I’m uneducated, but I did drop all my classes last month and unenrolled from UCLA. Alice and Scott are being supportive of my decision to pursue other interests. Blake, on the other hand, is still being an ass.

  Sure, we broke up that morning. He packed his bags, and we waited in silence for his roommate to come back and pick him up. I watched them drive away as the tears fell, knowing nothing would ever be the same between us again. I secretly hoped he would call and apologize, but after two weeks of silence, I knew I was dreaming.

  I finally called him last week and invited him to come tonight. I want him to see this hasn’t changed me. I’ve only had one photoshoot, and no one has called Zach to book me for anything yet, hence the reason I have to go to the gala tonight, but it will happen eventually. According to Zach, I need more training. My training begins next week.

  Monday afternoon, he has me meeting with a walking coach. Tuesday, I get to meet with him and a stylist. Wednesday, I have an appointment with a nutritionist. I can’t remember what I have going on Thursday or Friday, but I know there’s something. It’s all on the calendar in my apartment. The next three weeks are booked solid. On top of all that, I am expected to be at the gym to meet with my trainer every morning at six o’clock. That started last week. I could barely walk after the first day. It’s gotten better, but I’m still sore.

  Tonight, Zach and Blake will meet for the first time. I think I’m more nervous about that than anything else. Aubrey is going to be there with me, introducing me to people when Zach is busy. They’re working as a team to break me into the industry. I appreciate all the effort, but I’m starting to rethink my decision.

  Not because Blake was right. I’m not changing who I am on the inside. My outside appearance, however, is another story.

  Once I signed on with Zach, Aubrey whisked me away to the salon. My hair was cut, styled and colored. My fingernails and toenails were manicured. Hours after we arrived, I walked out with a bag full of products, looking like a different person. I like the look they gave me, it’s nice. I still don’t recognize myself when I look in the mirror sometimes, though.

  I step into my new black dress, careful to gently pull it over my hips without ripping it. It’s snug in all the right places according to Aubrey. She picked it out, of course, and made me buy a size smaller than I felt comfortable in. I have a shawl I plan to bring—and wear if I’m allowed—to help cover my assets.

  As soon as the dress is zipped up, I slip into my heels, another thing I’m getting used to. I wear them every day, at least for a few hours, and practice walking in them. I’m getting better at it. It’s been almost a month since I’ve tripped on anything.

  Aubrey should be here any minute to reapply my makeup and fix my hair. I took extra time on both tonight, but I have a feeling she will find flaws and have to “work her magic” so I’m presentable.

  I close my bedroom door and take a look at myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the back. I think I look really nice. Tugging my dress down as far as it will go, I remember the last time I told Aubrey I thought I looked nice. “Nice doesn’t cut it in this industry,” she said. That was promptly followed by excessive teasing of my hair and a full reapplication of my makeup.

  I’ve tried to pick up some tips from her. Instead of getting upset with me, like she used to at first, she now explains what she’s doing to me and why: ‘I’m fixing your hair over here because… You have too much shading on your eyes which makes you look… This is a better color for your lips with that dress because…’

  I’ve also learned which fashion magazines I should be reading as soon as they hit the shelves. This is a must, according to you-know-who. Damn! Aubrey can be such a bitch sometimes, especially when it comes to modeling. I can’t get past the feeling I’m her Barbie doll.

  All that aside, she’s been an amazing friend. She was here all hours of the day every day after Blake left. She comforted me and got me out of the house to try and take my mind off of the breakup. She’s an amazing person with a huge heart. She makes me believe this industry won’t change me if I don’t allow it to.

  It wasn’t until last week after I called Blake and invited him, I really started to open up to her. I was heartbroken all over again after talking to him. Hearing his voice almost sent me into a fit of tears on the spot. I was able to contain myself until he agreed to come. Aubrey found me an hour later, in a ball, crying on the couch.

  We talked for hours. By the time the sun came up, my entire life story had been told. I told her about my parents. My aunt. Alice and Scott. How I met and fell in love with Blake. Every detail of our relationship. After all was said and done, Aubrey was left confused. The only thing I didn’t explain was about the money.

  I live alone. My rent is more than Alice and Scott’s house payment. I don’t work, and I’m a foster kid. She couldn’t understand how that was all possible. I didn’t tell her everything, but I told her enough to explain the situation. I don’t like to talk about money, especially since I have so much. It either makes people jealous and hateful, or it makes me sound snobbish. Neither of which I like.

  There’s a knock at the door, so I run to answer it. I’m about to open the door when I realize I just ran across my entire apartment, in heels, and I didn’t trip. I reward myself with a smile, opening the door so Aubrey can begin her standard assault of my appearance.

  Not Aubrey.

  “Zach,” I state, surprised to see him standing outside my door. “I thought Aubrey and I were going to meet you there.” He’s looking even more handsome than usual. In fact, every time I see him, he looks better and better. Today, though, he’s in a tux, and he looks delicious.

  “Aubrey’s in her apartment, throwing up. She was supposed to tell you I was picking you both up, but it doesn’t sound like she ever made it down here. The exhibit sent a car for you girls,” he states, motioning to the black stretch limousine blocking my car in.

  “In that?” I’m in awe, and he can hear it.

  “Only the best for my girls. Wel
l, tonight it’s just you and me, Charlotte.”

  Still smiling, I excuse myself for a moment to grab my wrap and purse. When I return, Zach extends his elbow and I take hold of it as I close my door behind me. The driver opens the door for us, and I carefully get in, cautious not to bend over too far. Sliding over to make room for Zach, I take in the limos interior.

  This, I could get used to.

  THE GALA IS INTENSE. I’m not used to being around so many people. Zach’s been leading me around the room, arm in arm, and introducing me to people. Thankfully, none of them have asked my opinion on the artwork hanging on the wall.

  After a while, my feet begin to ache, so I excuse myself and head toward the front door. The limo is parked outside, and I plan to climb in for a moment to rest my feet. I should check in on Aubrey, too. I’m sure she’s upset she had to miss the event tonight. She’s been talking about it since we first found out.

  As I’m searching for my phone in my purse, I run into a rock-hard chest. Without looking up, I apologize and move around the person.

  “Where are you going, Charlie?”

  My hand freezes inside my purse, my feet stopping dead in their tracks, and I close my eyes, his voice bringing me back to a time when we were happy together. When I feel his hand on my shoulder, I take a deep breath, open my eyes, and turn to face Blake. It’s the first time I’ve laid eyes on him in two months.

  Avoiding eye contact, I smile and take in his suit. “You look so nice, Blake. Thanks for coming tonight.”

  Pulling me into him, Blake wraps his arms around me and squeezes tightly. I go willingly, remembering the way our bodies fit together perfectly. “I wouldn’t have missed it. Thanks for the invite.”

  Someone grumbles behind me and then clears their throat. We’re blocking the entrance, so I step to the side, Blake releasing me so we can move out of the way.

  “You must be Zach,” Blake says, looking past me. I turn to find an irritated Zach, staring Blake down. “Charlotte has said a lot of nice things about you. I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet last time I was in town.”