Waking to Black

by V. H. Luis

  I press my head against his chest, his smell again intoxicating my senses. In his arms I’m safe. “Because you say you want to know everything about me, and knowing someone like that takes longer than a month.”

  Adam’s fingers trail down my stomach, grazing my navel. “I take it our conversation yesterday upset you.” He avoids my gaze as he speaks.

  I fidget at the question. “What woman wants to hear that the man she’s seeing has a four-week expiration date on relationships?”

  Adam presses his lips against mine abruptly. It’s a quick kiss, the type that burns fast and leaves you hot and panting. He pulls back and stares into my eyes. “When I’m around you I’m confused, and that’s new to me. You throw me off balance and make me lose my focus. I haven’t felt like that in years. What I said yesterday was a warning. I don’t want to hurt you, and it’s been a long time since I cared enough not to hurt someone.”

  I squeeze his biceps, rubbing my thumb against the definition of his muscle. “Why do you think you’ll hurt me?”

  He cups my cheek and I lean into his touch, relishing in his warmth.

  “Because of the way you react when I touch you. You’re naïve. You don’t know how the world works when it comes to men and women.”

  “Maybe the problem is that you think you know it all,” I say defiantly.

  “Happily ever after doesn’t exist.” He releases his hold on my cheek, his body tensing. “The concept is nothing more than a bargaining tool people use to manipulate, and I’m not interested in playing that game.”

  He must see something in my face because he curses under his breath. “I meant it when I said you’re the first woman in a long time I cared enough about to warn. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “If you care so much, then why not stay away from me? Why come get me tonight?”

  “Because I couldn’t stay away!” Moving my body away from his, he sits up. “I’m a selfish man who goes after what he wants and what I wanted tonight was you. I readily admit I’m an asshole. I’ve always been upfront with women—told them exactly what to expect. Even still, I’ve made countless women cry and never once thought twice about it… But shit… The thought of making you cry…”

  He goes silent, and because I can’t tolerate the cynicism and sadness that has washed over him, I sit up and wrap my arms around him. “Adam…” I know I should say something. Finally, a thought registers in my head.

  “Do you go to therapy?”

  He laughs. “Is that your subtle way of implying I should?”

  Before I’m able to respond he counters with a question of his own. “Why do you go?”

  I’m not ready for this type of honesty, for the intimacy of telling someone your deepest, darkest secrets. So I shake my head, smile at him and instead decide to ask him a random question. “Are you hungry? I’m famished.”

  Adam frowns. “Evelyn…” His phone rings, interrupting us.

  Silently, I thank whoever’s on the other end the phone. I lean toward Adam and kiss his cheek. “I’ll make us something. Would you like a sandwich?” I whisper as he reaches for the phone. Already too distracted to care, he nods at my question.

  I stand up from the floor and stretch. I slide the wrinkled skirt off and head to the kitchen. Adam continues to talk as I prepare the ingredients I’ve taken out of the refrigerator.

  “What are the taxes on the property?” He rubs the back of his neck, the phone firmly pressed against his ear. “That’s going to increase once we get the new appraisal.” His forehead creases in a small frown. “Did you talk to Jacobson? What did he say about the Korbin Property?” After a long pause Adam emphatically curses. “I’ll do it myself.” He looks at his watch. “I want to be in the air in two hours; make sure the flight is cleared.”

  Two hours? He’s leaving already? I stand there naked in the kitchen, unable to move. He’s always going to leave. Come to terms with it. Unwilling to dwell on the thought, I step into the living room and he’s gone. A sudden feeling of deja vu hits me. I put the plate with the sandwiches on the coffee table and walk toward the light emanating from my art studio.

  Adam is standing in the middle of the room looking at the painting I had deformed in frustration. It’s now a dark, blooming iris, on the verge of opening its petals to the world.

  “You finished it.” A hint of delight is blended with surprise.

  I lean against the doorframe, staring at him. “I felt challenged to make something out of that painting. You could say a stranger motivated me.”

  Adam turns to face me, amusement etched on his face. “You should thank that stranger.”

  I narrow my eyes at him playfully. “Reminiscing on the events of the last few days, I believe I already have.”

  His chuckle fills the room.

  “You know, I thought you looked lovely that day. You were wearing jeans and a T-shirt, your hair was wild from the events of the day, and yet there was something about you I couldn’t ignore.” Adams eyes linger over my form. “And now…” He pauses.

  I straighten against his scrutiny. “And now…what?” I need him to say the right words. He rarely says something tender unless we are in the throes of lovemaking, but at the moment I need Adam Black to be my hero again. I feel vulnerable in my own home, standing naked before him, and one dismissive glance, one careless phrase, will break me.

  “Now you look gorgeous.” He strides forward and strokes my cheek with his knuckles.

  The action hurts because I recognize it’s fleeting. “You have to go.” I say the words myself because I know they’re coming anyway.

  He nods. “I have to go to New York to settle a problem.”

  I smile at him brightly. I refuse to let him see even a small measure of sadness in my eyes. I’ve come to the conclusion that Adam Black is not a man who appreciates weakness, mainly because I have yet to see him exhibit any.

  “At least take your sandwich,” I say with a smile.

  “I wouldn’t dream of leaving without it.” He leans down and kisses my cheek before stepping past me.

  I hear him grab his keys from the coffee table and I’m fighting back tears as I turn to face the door. He has the sandwich in his hand. He looks at me as he opens the front door and enthusiastically bites into the sandwich. I laugh, because I know it’s his way of saying thank you. The door closes behind him and I’m left alone.

  My body is sore. It has been used and discarded. My thoughts are unforgiving. You wanted this. You’re the one that tried to seduce him. Live with your mistakes.

  “I doubt there’s a girl in this world who wants to be left alone immediately after she’s been thoroughly fucked,” I whisper, and the words sound loud against the vacant room.

  I slide down the wall and bring my knees to my chest. As I sit there thinking, something dawns on me. He was tender. He admitted he cares—that he can’t stay away. Perhaps tonight was not a defeat, but a small victory.

  The thought is enough to get me through the night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “HOW ARE THINGS going with Adam?”

  Tina flips through an old magazine as she speaks. I know her interest is a nothing but pretext because she’s the one who gave me the magazine—she already read it cover-to-cover.

  We just finished baking a batch of cookies. Actually, Tina baked and I gave her moral support, because I’d burn the house down if I attempted to use the oven.

  I plunge the tip of my finger into a melty chocolate chip as I stall. I don’t know how to answer her question.

  “Things are still going, and that makes me happy.”

  Tina tosses the magazine on the table. “That’s not much of an answer.”

  I grip the cookie tightly and it crumbles. I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster that has no end. It’s Wednesday afternoon and I haven’t seen Adam since our impassioned meeting on Monday. I miss his voice. I miss the confidence he stirs within me. More than anything, I miss his strong arms and the way they anchor me against m
y insecurities.

  “We texted a few times yesterday. He’s busy with some real-estate problem in New York. Adam’s not exactly forthcoming when it comes to his work.”

  I chuckle, because it’s a vast understatement. Adam gives tiny droplets of information. Being with him means relinquishing control, though the thought no longer petrifies me. Feeling consumed by a relationship is dangerous, but I’ve arrived at the conclusion that that type of danger excites me.

  “From the little you tell me, he’s not forthcoming, period.”

  Tina’s snippiness startles me. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

  “He’s like chocolate ice cream, Evie. The taste is divine, but too much of it and your hips get wide, your stomach puffs up, and you feel like shit when you look in the mirror.”

  “You have the wrong impression.” I put down the crumbled cookie and lick my fingers. “I would say he’s more like cookies and cream. Sweet, but riddled with mystery. You never know which spoonful might offer that big piece of cookie.”

  Tina scoffs. “Whatever the flavor, too much ice cream is still bad for you.”

  “Yes, but can you imagine a world without ice cream?” I stare at her with mock horror.

  Tina bursts out laughing. “You’re head over heels for this guy.”

  She has no idea. It’s been three days since I was in Adam’s arms, and I’m going through withdrawal.

  “I don’t know. I try not to focus too much on me and Adam or the intricacies of our relationship.”

  “I know he makes you cry. That can’t be good.”

  “I make myself cry, because I overthink everything. I just want to be happy.”

  “Are you happy when you’re with him?”

  “Tina, why do you ask me these questions? You’re almost as bad as Dr. Davis.”

  With a heavy sigh, I answer her question. “A lot of the time, I am.”

  “What about the other times?”

  “I know you want to protect me, Tina. You always have. When we were little you punched Timmy Phelps in the nose because he pulled my hair. But you can’t protect me from this.”

  “Old habits are hard to let go.”

  “I’m okay, I promise. You know what I want now?”

  Tina grins. “Ice cream.”

  We both laugh in unison and head straight to the kitchen. As I open the freezer door a sharp knock startles me. Who could that be? I move to the living room and open the door to discover a delivery man standing on the porch.

  “Miss Evelyn Snowe?”

  “That’s me.”

  “I have a delivery from a Mr. Black.”

  The poor man is struggling to read off of a clipboard while gripping a large parcel. I move forward to help him. He produces an envelope from his pocket once his hands are free. Absently, I take the note and thank him.

  “Good day, Miss Snowe.” He turns and heads toward his car.

  I open the envelope and begin to read.

  Dear Evelyn,

  I considered sending you flowers but the thought of them dying after only a few days contradicts the spirit you effortlessly exude. Therefore, I thought giving you something simple, yet multi-dimensional, might be best.

  Adam Black

  Tina looks at me, amazed.

  I whisper the key phrase of the note and shake my head. “Multi-dimensional. No, he wouldn’t do that…”

  Like a child on Christmas morning, I eagerly open the package. Inside are eight carefully bundled photographs. My mouth opens in shock at the gift. Adam has bought me the photographs I admired at Art Basel.

  “What are they?” Tina asks impatiently.

  “Nick Vasquez’s Warhol’s Flowers.”

  Tina frowns. “What does that mean?”

  I shake my head in exasperation. My heart is racing and my attempt at explaining is pathetic. I move my fingertips across the glossy photos.

  “At Art Basel, when Adam and I bumped into each other I was looking at these photographs.”

  Tina’s eyes widen as she finally understands the significance of the gift.

  I’m overrun with emotions. Wonder. Elation. Hope.

  He remembered. Our meeting must be something he holds in his heart if he remembers our conversation. This is the most meaningful gift anyone has ever given me, because it pulls at the threads of my tattered soul, disarming me. When I view something so beautiful, all the bad in my life fades and the world is filled with possibilities. For years, I’ve been trapped in my own suffocating self-loathing, but Adam Black manages to break through the barriers surrounding me. Like the nude painting we discussed at Art Basel, he leaves me exposed. How does this man know me so well when I’m still discovering myself?

  Adam has been in my life for just two weeks and he’s already buying me expensive clothing, and now expensive artwork. But does he truly care for me? Is this to placate me, to get what he wants from me? What more does he want? I’ve given him everything!

  Tina watches the changing emotions on my face with a worried frown.

  “Evie, what’s wrong?”

  “I need to talk to him,” I say, reaching for my phone.

  “I thought you were avoiding him. You said he was busy with business, he may be in the middle of something important.”

  Tina sounds logical. I should heed her warning, but the anxiety tugging at me makes it impossible for me to listen. I dial his number and as the phone rings I realize I have no idea what I’m going say. Smooth, Evie, real smooth.

  “Evelyn?”

  Adam’s surprised voice echoes through the phone.

  “Excuse me, I need to take this call.”

  Vaguely, I hear the chattering of other people in the background. He was probably in the middle of some important business meeting. See what you did? You should have listened to Tina.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I got the photographs you sent me.”

  “Good.” He pauses for a moment. “Did you like them?”

  “Why would you give me something like that?”

  I try for the detached tone he effortlessly manages, but I fail. I sound agitated.

  “Is the phrase thank you not in your vocabulary, Miss Snowe?”

  His initial gentleness has been replaced with irritation. Great, I’m Miss Snowe again.

  “I’m trying to understand why you would send me something so expensive after I told you that when you flaunt your money it makes me feel uncomfortable.”

  “Flaunt?” He growls. “I’m beginning to hate that word. We’ve already had this discussion. My desire to give you gifts is solely a reflection of my own selfish needs. I enjoy giving you something that might make you smile. That happens so rarely.”

  Regret washes over me. “I’m sorry. The photographs are beautiful, I do love them. I just…” I take a deep breath. “I miss you.”

  He goes silent for what feels like an eternity and a cold sweat mists my forehead.

  Finally, he sighs into the phone. “I miss you, too. Friday is almost here.”

  The way he enunciates the words is seductive, and it makes me smile.

  “Thank you for the photographs.” I absentmindedly play with a strand of my hair. This man makes me feel like a hormonal teenager.

  “Oh, so you are familiar with those words.” He laughs. “I need to go. Goodbye, Evelyn.”

  “Bye, Adam.”

  I sit there for a few minutes with the phone in my hands, dazed. I finally understand that if this liaison ends, it might be because of my own reservations, my own inability to accept happiness when it comes. I make a solemn vow.

  I’m going to stop overthinking everything.

  I step out of the school and am surprised to see Adam leaning against his black Mercedes. I notice a group of teachers gawking at him. Yep, he’s gorgeous, ladies. Now back off.

  “What are you doing here? I thought Parker was picking me up.”

  “I got in a bit early and thought I’d surprise you,” he says, his shoulders a bit tense.


  I nod mutely as I enter the car. He hasn’t attempted to kiss me, and the lack of intimacy between us makes me anxious. In a few minutes, we arrive at his apartment.

  “Is something wrong?” I say hesitantly. Maybe his business deal went poorly. I don’t want to be the cause of any further aggravation, but I’m worried about him.

  “We need to get ready for Sarah’s party.”

  He steps out of the car and moves toward the elevator. His response is not an answer, but rather a creative way of avoiding the question. My heart starts to race as I follow him. When we enter the apartment he greets Ms. Wright briskly and then retreats to his office. I stare at the older woman, unable to mask my confusion. She smiles at me, but I can tell she’s also confused by Adam’s mood.

  “Evelyn, would you like anything?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Ms. Wright nods and busies herself with work. I wish I had something to do. Standing here is so uncomfortable.

  I consider going to the guest bedroom and getting ready, but Adam’s behavior is too odd to ignore. As I stand alone in the hall, my fists balled, my forearms shaking, I realize I’m not only confused—I’m angry.

  What the hell is wrong with this man? He picks me up with a massive chip on his shoulder and then refuses to explain his problem. Trying to calm down I pace near the entrance of the apartment, though the action has the opposite effect because minutes later I’m fuming. Letting my anger dictate my actions, I storm into Adam’s office.

  “What’s your problem?” I place a hand to my hip for emphasis.

  He’s sitting at his desk, his face stoic. It’s as if he was expecting my entrance. With narrowed eyes, he stands. “I have something for you.” He retrieves a blue box from his desk.

  “Are you going to answer me?”

  Disregarding the question, Adam turns the box toward me so I can see the name Harry Winston written across the case in elegant script. Adam bought me jewelry?

  “I thought you would appreciate a gift of this nature.”

  He opens the box, and inside are two beautiful thick bangles with delicate flower patterns circling their edges. Adam’s voice is still low and detached.