Breathe

by Amber Lacie

  Closing my eyes, I imagine Holden behind me with his long arms wrapped around my waist. My arms wrap around myself, wishing it were real. I whisper, “I love you” into the empty room. I swear for just a second, I can feel him behind me and the words, I got you, fall from his lips, but when I open my eyes, I am alone. I am always so alone. Deciding that I can’t hide forever, I put on a brave face and head out to find Owen.

  The guests are now filtering in and out of the main showing. “The Beauty of Solitude” is spelled out in white Christmas lights on a long black canvas, hanging above the east end of the room. There is a group of people gathered around a piece centered on a table against the north wall. The lighting is inviting, giving off a soft, warm appeal. I slowly walk over to see what holds their attention, when I see Owen standing just off to the side where everyone has gathered. I slowly approach him and bump his shoulder with mine, before turning to see the display.

  My breath hitches, as I realize the artwork belongs to me. It is the painting that I gave to Heather to hang in the gallery. What completely throws me off is two of the portraits Holden took of me, when I was painting are hanging behind it. It is all so painfully real. You can see the hurt the girl is experiencing. It is completely taken over her, leaving her naked, raw, and exposed.

  Then the girl on the wall is captured in such a different light. In both pictures, my face is turned away from the camera. My body is turned and focused on the easel in front of me. The curves of my body are soft and light. Both pictures are breathtakingly beautiful, but it is the one with my hair swept to one side, exposing my bare shoulder that hits me the hardest.

  This morning it was hanging in my office, and now this intimate display of love Holden had for me, is on display for the world to judge. Anger, hurt, betrayal, love, and hate ripple through me. Each one creating a bigger ripple, until they become waves crashing down on me. My hand palms my chest, as fate tries its best to finish me off, destroying any hopes I had of surviving without him. I die a little more, knowing that he will never be able to look at me like that again. Gasping, I take a step back. I didn’t know that I had any part of me left to kill, but I was mistaken.

  Owen notices my reaction, and gently grabs my arm. “Are you alright?”

  “It’s just so much.” My voice cracks. I throw a wish out into the universe hoping that he doesn’t notice my sadness.

  “Her pain is so vibrant. How do you think he broke her?”

  My emotions are becoming hard to control. They easily move from sadness, to longing, and then to anger. He doesn’t know the girl in the painting or the person who took the picture. He doesn’t get to judge either of them. Looking up at him with an accusatory glare, I respond defensively. “How do you know whoever took the picture is a him? And why do you just assume he’s the reason she’s broken.”

  “Because it’s the same girl in all three pieces. Only someone you love can hurt you that deeply. Do you see the way her head is cast to the side, while it rests in her hand? She’s hiding and it’s not from him.” Shaking his head, he continues to stare at my painting. “No, she’s hiding from the world. She’s lost and so alone. I’m guessing he left her suddenly and without reason. See?” He points to the dark shadows creeping along the edges of the painting. “She despises her existence without him. She’s consumed by the darkness, only she doesn’t realize how beautiful her pain is.”

  Something warm rolls down my cheek, as Owen explains his view of the piece. My fingers slowly touch my cheek. It’s wet. I look down at my hand to see a single tear on my finger. I blink and two more fall. Taking a step back, I bump into someone behind me, causing them to spill a bit of their champagne.

  Owen steps towards me, reaching for me and I run. I race towards the exit, trying not to bump into people in my hasty escape. The tears continue to fall, blurring my vision. I forcefully push open the doors. The cold March air hits my face, as I slightly slow my pace. My arms are tightly wrapped around my waist. A ghastly sound escapes me, as I fall against the brick building, completely losing my mind. My knees buckle and I crash to the sidewalk.

  I. Let. Go.

  Screams and sobs escape from the painful dam I created. I wail at the release of all the hurt that I have carried for so long with no chance of reprieve. The dam bursts open, sending waves of grief and anger washing over me. I am drowning in a sea of sorrow.

  *****

  Strong, firm arms lift me off of the ground. I curl into the knight, saving me from the horrid nightmares surrounding me. My mind sways with confusion, as my tears continue to fall, soaking his jacket. He carries me as though I weigh nothing. I am slightly aware of being set down on a leather seat. My head leans against a glass window, as the city lights pass by in a blur. His gallant steed pulls up in front of a building lined with glass windows and bright lights. He lifts me from the safety of my seat and carries me inside towards two large red doors. They open with the push of a button and soon we are being lifted off of the ground.

  The doors open again, and my knight steps out into a hallway. He turns a corner, while pushing open another door. I faintly feel the loss of his touch, as I am laid down on something soft. Bringing my legs up to my chest, I curl into a ball. I gasp for air, as I so desperately try to breathe.

  “Fuck. Why didn’t you tell me? Jesus.” He asks me questions, as if I could somehow logically define my reasoning for my choices. So many horrific moments in my life have all happened because of my lack of ability at making good decisions. I can hear him stomping around, pacing behind me. For a moment, I wonder what it looks like when someone finally breaks. Does it look more like an explosion, or perhaps a storm that no one can predict, destroying everything in its path?

  My body is lifted once more and pulled into the arms of the knight who brought me here. Still curled into a ball, I lay against his chest, as he holds me in his lap. Our bodies sway, as he rocks back and forth, softly stroking my back. “Ssh. I got you.” My heart seizes and the air around me burns my lungs. “It’s okay. Whatever this is, it’s okay. I’ll fix it.” The flitter in my chest does nothing to ease the pain and guilt consuming me, as I cry over the love of my life in another man’s arms. His fingers softly brush against my cheeks, wiping away my tears. “I promise, Carsten. I’m going to fix this. I got you.”

  Three words. It took exactly three words to completely annihilate any chance that I had at ending this before it starts. My lungs inflate and for the first time since I lost Holden, I take a little breath.

  Chapter 25

  The warm sun gently kisses my skin. The familiar smell of woods with a hint of citrus, wraps around me. I curl my body into his, nuzzling my nose against his neck. I will never get enough of this smell. My fingers lightly trace the outline of his chest. A contented sigh leaves my chest, as I breathe him in. His arm gently holds my body against his, as his fingers caress my bare skin.

  “I love you.” Holden’s velvet voice soothes the soft pain in my chest.

  “I know. I love you, too.”

  “It’s morning, baby. You need to greet the day.”

  “No. I want to stay here with you. It’s so much better with you.”

  “Don’t worry. I got you. You’re my girl.”

  “Holds, please don’t make me wake up.” A tear slides down my cheek, as I beg him to let me stay, even if it is just for a few more minutes.

  “Come on, baby. Open your eyes for me.” Another tear falls, as he wipes it away with his thumb. It’s not fair. He knows that I can’t say no to him.

  *****

  The sting of the sun assaults my eyes, as I open them. “No!” I yell out into the empty room of my apartment. “It’s not fair.” I feel gutted and betrayed by my dreams. I bury my face in my pillow, as the details from last night slowly flitter into my mind. Wiping my face, I sit up and look around me. I was wrong. I am not in my apartment. A big, king size bed surrounds me. Light blue curtains are pulled back, displaying a large curved window to my right. I rub my eyes, trying to cl
ear the fog from my memory.

  Someone knocks on the door, reminding me that I am not alone. The memory of me collapsing outside of the gallery clicks into place. Owen brought me here. There is another knock on the door. Lifting the blankets, I notice that I am wearing an oversized gray t-shirt, with a pair of boxers rolled at the waist. These are not Holden’s clothes. Sitting up, I pull the covers up around my shoulders. The smell of freshly washed laundry with a hint of lavender, swirls around me. They do not smell like Holden.

  The door opens, revealing Owen with a tray in his arms. He is fully dressed in a pair of blue jeans with an orange tie-dyed t-shirt and green socks. He looks like an upside-down pumpkin. Giving me a soft smile, he steps into the room. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I was waiting out there. I thought I heard you, so I brought you some coffee and toast.” He sets the tray down on the bed beside me. My eyes glance from him, to the tray and back to him, as he shifts his feet on the cream carpet. He is nervous.

  “Owen, I—”

  “Wait. Before you say anything, I want you to know I didn’t do anything to hurt you or anything like that. It’s just you fell asleep and I didn’t know what to do. You looked so uncomfortable. I called Mark. I made him stay on the phone with me, while I changed your clothes. I’m sorry…I wanted to help. I made sure he knew what I was doing. I…just…I’m sorry. Okay? Please, don’t hate me.” His fingers fidget, pulling at the hem of his shirt. He looks like a little boy about to be scolded.

  Dropping the cover to my waist, I pull at the clothes I have found myself in. “These are yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I’m in your bed.”

  “Yes.”

  “So, this is your apartment then. Where are my clothes?”

  “Oh, sorry. I set them over here.” Turning he walks towards the corner where my clothes are folded, neatly resting on a small round table. “I promise I didn’t do anything.”

  “Owen, it’s okay. Really, I understand. It’s no big deal.”

  Nodding his head, he walks back over to the tray. He pours coffee from a small, white teapot into a blue mug. “I didn’t know how you liked it, so I brought crème and sugar with.”

  “Just a little crème with two sugars, please.”

  He stirs the coffee made to my specifications and hands it to me. My fingers wrap around the warm mug and I take a deep breath, letting the coffee wake up my senses, before taking the first sip. It is perfect and exactly what I needed after my explosion last night.

  “I have a lot of questions for you, but you don’t have to answer them right now. Whenever you’re ready is fine. Enjoy the coffee. You can rest as long as you like.” Owen steps towards the door, pausing briefly. “Carsten, I’m sorry. Whatever or whoever it was that broke you…I just…I’m sorry you hurt.” The door closes behind him with the latch softly clicking into place.

  I am sorry that I hurt, too. My mind races with ways to explain my obvious instability to him. By the time I finish my toast, I have come up with at least a dozen excuses for my insanity last night. But none of them are true. I don’t want to tarnish what Holden and I had by covering it with lies.

  Finally, deciding to tell him the truth if he asks me again, I move the tray to the side. My legs leave the warmth of the bed and step onto the plush carpet. It is incredibly soft. I shed the clothes that Owen lent me, and slip back into my clothes from the night before, sans my jacket and boots. I drape them over my arms and step into what I assume is the living room.

  Oversized dark charcoal sofas are angled in front of the largest television I have ever seen. An oval shaped glass table with black legs in the shape of an ‘S’ is centered between the two large sofas. A tall plant is set near a row of five large windows. If I didn’t know better, I would guess that he is growing a tree inside his apartment. Is this an apartment? I feel my knight may have brought me to his castle.

  Two very wide steps, lead to an even wider doorway. Cautiously walking up the two steps, I find myself looking at a rather generously sized kitchen. White marble countertops are accented by black appliances with silver handles. The room is designed in an ‘L’ shape, with the counters being on the longer side. The shorter side has a built-in breakfast nook. I can’t imagine what the rent must be on a place this size.

  A hallway to my left leads to four doors. Curiosity gets the best of me and I open each one. So far, I have found a linen closet, a bathroom with a marble vanity to match the kitchen counters, and an extra bedroom. My hand softly turns the handle on the last door, when I hear Owen’s voice.

  “She’s so beautiful and so badly broken…I want to help her. I need to help her…You don’t understand, there’s no way I’m walking away from this. She took my breath away the first time I saw her…And then she laughed. I’m going to make her laugh again.”

  I lightly knock on the door. He lowers his voice and I can barely make out what he says.

  “I have to go. She needs me.”

  I tap on the door again, after debating whether I should walk away. He already knows that I am out here, so there is no sense in leaving. The door opens and my gaze is locked by deep blue eyes with long lashes, staring back at me.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “What?”

  Owen points to my jacket and boots that I still have folded over my arm. “Are you leaving? I didn’t mean to frighten you this morning. I just…I needed to make sure you were okay.”

  “Oh. I’m not leaving…not yet anyway. I was looking for you.”

  Owen smiles, his dimple is proudly displayed, as he runs his hands through his hair. “It seems you found me.”

  “I have. If this was a game of hide and go seek, you would be terrible at it.” I give him the best smile I can muster.

  “Is that so? Maybe I was just testing your skills.” Stepping to the side, he motions for me to enter. I lay my jacket and boots across the back of a dark walnut leather chair. Dark cherry wooden file cabinets line the small wall beside his desk. A watercolor painting of the New York City skyline hangs on the other wall, beside a large curved window. I step towards them, pressing my fingers against the cold glass. Looking out, I stare at the tall buildings surrounding me. The people below us resemble small figurines walking around on the sidewalks below.

  “Owen, how high up are we?”

  “Not as high as you think. We are on the seventeenth floor.”

  “Is that Central Park?”

  “Yes. To be honest, the price was a little higher for a condo on Central Park West than I originally wanted, but the building is rather new, and I couldn’t turn down that view.”

  “I don’t blame you. It’s gorgeous. I have never seen it like this. If we are being honest, I haven’t seen much of New York. I kind of keep to myself. It’s better that way.”

  The atmosphere in the room changes. I don’t need to look to know that he is coming closer to me. I can feel it. “It’s better for who, Carsten? You or everyone else?”

  “I don’t know. It just is.” Turning my head, I look over my shoulder. To my surprise, he is not any closer to me. Owen is sitting on the edge of his desk, swinging his legs back and forth. Odd. I could have that sworn someone was behind me.

  “What do you do, Owen?”

  “I’m a lawyer. Mark works with me at the firm.”

  “What kind of lawyer has all of this?” Using my index finger, I draw a circle, encompassing the room around us.

  “A good one. One that’s also familiar with the stock market.”

  “I see.” I’m more than way over my head. I am stepping into a world that I will surely drown in. “I should go.”

  “Before you run away again, can I ask you a question?”

  Nodding my head, I turn to face him.

  “When Mark told me you were into art, what he meant was you are an artist. Why didn’t you tell me the showing was based on your painting? If you didn’t want to be there, I wouldn’t have taken you.”

  Sighing, I grab my jacket and b
oots from the back of the chair, before plopping down in it. I am mentally and physically exhausted. I could sleep for a thousand years, and yet I don’t think it would help. “Because I didn’t know. I mean, I knew my piece would be featured, they always are. It wasn’t supposed to be the focal point. Another artist pulled out at the last second and my assistant took it upon herself to rearrange the showing. Which is something I’m going to have to discuss with her on Monday, because those are my personal photographs and they belong to me. My fiancé took them.” I drop my head to my hands. Maybe if I could hide well enough, none of this would be real.

  “Wow. The amount of information I just got is way more than I expected. Can we break it down, just to make sure I’m following along?” He scoots over on his desk, until his legs are in front of me. There is so much to tell. I don’t understand what interest he could possibly have in me.

  “The amount of baggage I carry could drown someone. Why would you want to know any of it?” Sitting up, I drop my hands into my lap.

  “Because I’m a good guy. Good guys don’t let people drown.” My eyes meet his. I have lost. If for some bizarre reason, he wants to carry the weight of the world, then who am I to stop him. Besides, he will find out eventually. At least, this will give him an easy out.

  “I wasn’t just a featured artist last night. Escapes is mine. Well, it’s partly mine. I co-own it along with Mr. Dorsey and my friend Janel. She and I have another gallery in Bloomington, Indiana. When we started, it was just the three of us. Janel, Holden, and me.”

  Folding his hands behind his head, he takes a deep breath. “Oh. So, Holden is your fiancé. That explains the not wanting to date issue.”

  “Holden was my fiancé, or is, but I think I’m supposed to say was. I don’t know how any of this works and I never planned on finding out. Now it’s just me, and he’s gone, but I don’t want him to be. Everyone keeps telling me to let go, and I try, but then he’s there and…I’m sorry.” Tears fall softly from my eyes. Hopefully, he could understand at least some part of my incoherent rambling. I wipe my eyes and notice Owen handing me a tissue. “Thanks.”