Under the Orange Moon

by Adrienne Frances

  Professor Tanner frowned.

  “Sir, if I bow out now, how will I ever make it when I actually have to fight a case in the middle of another life crisis? I’m always going to have problems. I work best this way.”

  The professor stuck his finger up into a point. “This is your one chance, Ben. Don’t blow it.”

  “I won’t let you down,” Ben reassured. “So I can keep the internship then?”

  Professor Tanner pursed his lips. He nodded his head once and put his hand to Ben’s shoulder. “If I see you slip in the slightest, I’ll pull you from it without a moment’s hesitation.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ben said with a quick nod of his head. “I won’t let you down.”

  As the door closed and Professor Tanner was gone, Ben exhaled his rage out into the air. He found counting to ten was a helpful gimmick when dealing with men and women that could crush his future with one tiny squeeze of their palms. Kissing ass was another one of his many talents. He despised doing it, but he would do it in desperate times.

  The part about that conversation that angered him the most, not surprising him at all, though, was the fact that his father felt he needed to make that phone call to his professor. His father, whom he had not heard from since his mother killed herself, only wanted to make sure that Ben’s meltdowns didn’t embarrass him.

  Ben flopped back down onto his bed and pushed the play button once more. Audrey Hepburn’s face reappeared on the screen, warming Ben’s heart and slightly embarrassing him even more. He felt ridiculous, weak, and sappy. He contemplated putting on a good porno just to reassert his manliness. He wouldn’t bring himself to do it, though.

  He missed Dylan.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On a Tuesday in March, Dylan stepped across a busy intersection in Phoenix. Of all the times she had been on that street, she never realized the lofts above the stores, possibly because she never cared to look up.

  As she ran, her eyes stayed focused on the open windows above a retail store that she had never been in. She jumped when a car barely missed hitting her, and then waved it away when the driver laid on the horn in anger. She decided to look forward until she made it to safety.

  She loved this area of Phoenix. It left a sort of lingering pleasantry in her each time she passed through on her way to the school. When she noticed the ad that morning, she thought of it as a calling to her that she needed to check out if only just to see. She may even hate it and decide against her idea, but she owed it to herself to at least look.

  She opened the door that was tucked just between two stores, and took the stairs up to the second floor. “Two-thirty-two,” she whispered, scanning a ripped piece of paper that she had quickly scratched the address on.

  Dylan stepped in through the open door and smiled instantly. It was just how she imagined: open, spacious, bright with the sun peering in, and surrounded with windows. She looked down at the hardwood floors and realized they were brand-new, like the ad in the paper claimed.

  “Ms. Mathews?” a soft voice echoed to her.

  Dylan beamed her most professional of smiles. “Dorothy?”

  The small, fair-haired woman approached with her hand extended and her dealing face on. She was very properly dressed in business attire, and even had the briefcase to complete her look. Her heels made a clicking noise against the floor as she walked, and it looked as though she moved cautiously as to avoid scuffing up the hardwood.

  “So,” Dorothy began, spinning around and gazing at the high ceiling, “it’s nice, isn’t it?”

  Dylan looked at the windows and the major space that surrounded her. She could have cared less about the ceiling. She nodded delicately, waiting to hear the price before she got too excited. But as she looked around the loft, it was hard to ignore the twirls of elation in her stomach.

  “You’re an artist?” she asked, looking at Dylan as if she were supposed to break out into a Grateful Dead tune. “Full time?”

  Dylan laughed. “Struggling artist, you might say.” She never quite knew exactly when one earned that title. What if someone asked her what she did for a living? Did she have to sell her first piece before she could actually claim she was an artist? Should she say she’s a teacher and just leave it at that? It was almost like acting, she thought. When could someone really say that they were in the profession of acting? When they had their first major role?

  “Well, for the price, I suppose this studio would suit you.” Dorothy looked worried now that Dylan had used the word “struggling.” “There’s plenty of space to put a bed here as well. It has all the commodities, kitchenette, bathroom, and dining area. The closets are small, but you could always stick an armoire in the corner there for extra clothing.”

  Dylan nodded along as Dorothy went on. She loved the openness of the room. No matter what, it was far more privacy than she had ever had before and that alone was cause for celebration.

  She already had a space for everything in her head. She imagined her easel set up in front of the window. She had always dreamed of her very own studio. She wanted nothing more than to wake up in the middle of the night with a vision and stumble to her canvas where she could instantly feel creative release without even putting on pants or brushing her hair. She just couldn’t do that in her family’s home.

  “So?” Dorothy asked.

  “How much?” Dylan asked with her arms crossed. “The ad offered a ‘good deal.’”

  “The landlord is asking seven hundred a month. That includes water and gas.” Dorothy smiled.

  “If you can get him to go down to six hundred, I’ll take it,” Dylan answered quickly.

  Dorothy pulled out her cell phone and turned her back as if that prevented Dylan from hearing. She spoke in a low voice and laughed a bit with the person on the other end. Her voice seemed to take on a more cheesy tone and she sucked up like a pro.

  She ended the call and slipped the phone back into her purse. “We have a deal,” she said with a grin. “When would you like to move in?”

  Suddenly, Dylan’s heart thumped. The surreal moment had caught up to her and she knew the next step would be facing her mother. How could she even begin that conversation?

  “I—I’ll call you,” Dylan stammered. “I have to give notice to…my…” What should I call my own mother without sounding like an adolescent? “…other landlord first.”

  “All right, when would you like to at least get the ball rolling?”

  “Ball?” Dylan asked stupidly.

  “When would you like to sign the lease, dear?” Dorothy asked with astonishment for Dylan’s sudden awkward behavior. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

  “Positive,” Dylan replied quickly. “I’m ready to sign a lease now, in fact. I just need to give notice to someone.”

  “Okay. Well, we’ll have to run a credit check. How about we meet with the landlord this weekend, and you can sign the lease then and get to know him a bit in the meantime. He’s a very nice man.”

  “That’s just fine.” Dylan felt giddy all of the sudden. “Call me and let me know when and where after my credit checks out.”

  Dylan left and practically skipped through traffic again. She was even more absentminded than ever. Just one thought of being on her own, in a quaint little studio apartment, added a joy that she hadn’t felt in over two month’s time. She felt life changing and welcomed it happily.

  There had been a heavy fall of snow continuously beating down on the east coast for days. Classes wouldn’t be canceled, which only pleased Ben because he found himself in a coma of sadness when he wasn’t able to work and walk among humans. He would watch the news everyday, crossing his fingers that school would go on and save him from another viewing of Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

  Ben walked along a snow covered path that ran through the school campus. This was the long way to class, much longer than the straight walk the other pathway took. This particular course seemed to be the last part of campus that was ever shoveled. He didn�
��t care that he was walking through two feet of snow. He was avoiding many people and had been since his return to Cambridge.

  His breath blew into the bitter air as he walked. He was cold, which surprised him. The winter weather hadn’t really bothered him before, and now he found that the crisp cold was even a bit painful as it whipped at his face. Unexpectedly, he had gotten used to the desert weather in only a few weeks time.

  Ben gave a quick nod as he passed the many faces he recognized. If they looked like they wanted him to stop, he pretended as if he was in a hurry, giving an apologetic glance and a shrug of the shoulders while he raced by them.

  As usual, he thought of Dylan as he walked. He thought of her smile, her laugh, her gentle touch, her lighthearted sense of humor, her angelic nature, and, of course, he couldn’t help but think of her legs. Who wouldn’t think of her legs? He laughed to himself. This was it, he thought. He would never have that again. He had found the best part of himself in her and, like that, it was gone. He was a fool to believe he could have it anyway.

  He wondered if she had moved on. Someone would find her soon enough. She was too perfect to pass up. For the first time, he didn’t feel enraged when he thought of her with someone else. He wanted her happy, even if it meant he couldn’t be the one to make that happen. He just wanted her to smile for the rest of her life. He would only feel peace if he knew that were possible.

  “Ben!” He ignored the female voice that he knew. “Ben, I know you hear me!” she called again.

  He contemplated a quick sprint through the quad, but he knew it was too late. If he took off now, he’d only pay for it later. There was just no escaping this girl. She was about as close to a stalker as someone could be without officially giving them the title. He turned and tried to act as flustered as he could in the hopes that maybe she would have mercy on him and let him go with just a simple hello.

  “Hey,” she said with a breathless voice. She had seriously chased after him. “When did you get back?”

  “Hey,” he answered, without answering her question. She would only nag him if he told her he’d been back for over two months. She had called him at least every day since his return. He didn’t care for her feelings. He simply felt no interest in the pestering way she tended to scold him the few unfortunate times she had been able to catch him before his trip to Arizona.

  “I’ve been calling you, Ben.”

  “I’ve been busy,” he said, still walking.

  She caught up to him and began to walk at the same pace just along side him. “Have you started your internship? I still can’t believe you got it. How’s your mother?”

  Ben paused for only one step, allowing her to move ahead of him. He hated that she walked so close to him, as if they were a couple strolling to class together. He stepped again and kept a good sized space between them this time.

  “That was two questions too many,” he answered quickly. She had never even met his mother, another sign of her weird, stalker-like behavior.

  Ignoring his comment, she went on, saying, “You know, the last time we were together, you made me feel really slutty. You just vanished.”

  Ben laughed. “Maybe that’s because it was the only time we were together.” They met in a bar and slept together only a few hours later. He snuck away from her crazy, wrestling hold in the middle of the night, and avoided her from then on. It was no different then any other girl he slept with. This one simply refused to take the hint as easily.

  “So this is the blow off then?”

  “It’s something, I suppose.” He was almost out of breath. He hoped she didn’t have to go as far as he did but, then again, she seemed to be there only because she was looking for him. He had taken this way every day since he’d been back, and this was his first time running into her. It didn’t seem to be an accident.

  “I don’t want to be your girlfriend, Ben.”

  He laughed again. This was not even a possibility, and he could hardly keep a straight face at the fact that she felt he worried about what she wanted out of him.

  She stopped him with her hand on his chest while she shot him what seemed to be an attempt at a seductive grin. “I think we’re on the same page is all I’m saying.”

  Ben stepped back away from her hand. He narrowed his eyes on her. “I promise you, no one is on my page. If you were even near my page, you wouldn’t have found me today. ”

  “I just want to have a little fun.” She winked at him, which he only found tacky. This girl seriously lacked common sense.

  “I have to go,” Ben said coldly. “I’m late.”

  She stepped aside, and said, “Call me.”

  “Right,” he said, and continued off to class.

  He couldn’t even remember this girl’s name, if he even knew it to begin with. Chances were, he’d never even asked for it.

  He raced into the room as the professor was closing the door. In this class, if you didn’t make it in before she shut the door, you just didn’t make it. Period. However, this professor seemed to have a liking for Ben, because she always seemed to slow it down when she saw him running.

  “Mr. McKenna, just in time,” Professor Gray said with a smile. “Lucky.”

  Ben smiled and sat down in the third row. He was out of breath, irritated from his run-in with the one-nighter, and freezing from the harsh cold outside. He had to put his game face on, however. This professor was another one of those people that held his life in the palm of her hand. Ben was pretty sure she wanted to sleep with him, which he didn’t mind. She was surprisingly hot for a woman that was twenty-eight years his senior. He’d do it. He chuckled to himself at even the thought.

  “Are you ready for Weis and Carter?” Professor Gray asked, running her finger along the edge of Ben’s desk. “I’ve heard there are high expectations of you, due to your name, of course. Do you think you can handle that sort of pressure?”

  “I can handle anything,” Ben answered quickly and proudly. He didn’t want to sound smug, but he knew this would be a breeze for him. This was going to secure his future.

  “Let’s hope so.” She pursed her lips into an awkward smile that was meant for only Ben, and walked over to her desk. This was the same way she began with him everyday. Naturally, he found it completely amusing.

  This was when Ben could take his mind off of Dylan and forget that he was in a hideous state of depression. He could focus, work, and find that drive in him that he was known for. Being with her had made him discover just how weak he could be. This was the place where he belonged.

  Linda cleaned to music. She loved to clean, which even she found odd. She called it free time. It was an odd way to spend time, all those around her thought. For Mother’s Day, years back, her children pitched in together and got her a cleaning lady once a week. They decided to cancel it when Dylan came home to find Linda cleaning and the hired help enjoying a sandwich at the table.

  Dylan walked in to her mother dancing with a feather duster in her hand and earphones in her ears. She sang to Carl’s pictures, the shrine to him on the mantel. She pointed and bellowed loudly as she wiped the frames, thinking she was the only one in the house. Many times over Dylan had caught her doing this. Linda never seemed to mind when she finally understood she had an audience.

  This pleased Dylan very much; Linda looked to be in a wonderful mood. It was a good time to give her the news that was sure to upset her. Maybe if her anger started in a good place, it would be easier for Dylan to bring her back, which was highly unlikely.

  When Linda turned her eyes Dylan’s way, Dylan smiled as she waved to get her mother’s attention.

  Linda pulled the earphones from her ears and finished the tune without the music to guide her now. She moved up the step and took Dylan’s hands in hers and began to sway them back and forth, dancing and singing to her embarrassed daughter, who refused to play along.

  “You’re a brat,” Linda teased. “You should always want to dance with your mother.”

  “G
ross,” was all Dylan could say at the thought.

  Linda picked up a wicker basket and began to fold the clean clothes that were inside it.

  “I need to talk to you, Mom,” Dylan began bravely. “Do you have a minute?”

  Linda’s eyes turned suspicious while she studied Dylan’s face. “Oh, Lord.” She took the seat behind her without looking. “You’re pregnant.”

  “What? No!” Dylan laughed. “I’m not pregnant, Mom.”

  Linda placed her hand against her chest and sighed. “Whew,” she said dramatically. “I think babies are lovely, but not when my baby is having them.”

  “Why would you even think that?”

  “I found condoms in your bedroom,” Linda admitted shamefully. “I just figured—I don’t know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t snooping. I was getting laundry. I’m happy you chose to be safe, though.”

  “Please stop.” Dylan’s face lit up like a tomato. She shook her head and tried to push back the upchuck she felt arising. “Really? You found condoms, so your first instinct was that I’m pregnant?”

  “I know. That doesn’t make any sense, does it?” Linda smiled and shrugged, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. Now that we have that out of the way, I think I can handle anything. What is it?”

  Still stunned, Dylan let the words flop out of her mouth. “I found a studio apartment in Phoenix and I’m moving out.”

  Linda’s mouth fell open. “I take that back. I’d rather you were pregnant.”

  Dylan rolled her eyes. “Mom.”

  Linda put her hand up and closed her eyes. “Wait just a minute,” she demanded with a new harshness in her tone. “You what?”

  “It’s perfect for me,” Dylan continued. “It’s open and captures the light just the right way. I went and looked at it today and now I just have to meet the land—”

  “Wait just a damn minute, young lady,” Linda interrupted. “You’ve been walking through this house like a ghost, nearly giving me a heart attack from stress and worry, and now, just like that, you’re moving into a studio?”