Capturing Jessica

by Jane Hardee

  It was over. And now Michael was ruined. How could she ever move on from this? How could she continue her life without Jess in it? Not to mention that fact that sex with anyone else was out of the question. The mere thought repulsed her.

  Instead of heading to the hotel, Michael had the taxi driver take her directly to the La Femme office building where she would be completing her commissioned work. As she hopped out and handed the driver a few bills, she took a deep breath trying to put everything from her mind, except her work. It wasn’t customary for Michael to complete a work in the building where it would be displayed, but it cut costs for the client. And Michael was always hesitant to move her larger pieces anyway.

  Before entering La Femme’s headquarters, Michael took a moment to appreciate the architecture of the twenty-story building while dodging pedestrians. While it wasn’t the largest building on the street, or even close to it, the shiny, mirrored glass exterior reflected the midday sun, and Michael was struck with the beauty of the structure. It looked out of place, since most of the neighboring buildings were stone, or brick, and quite a bit older. A doorman with a round belly and a pressed uniform smiled as Michael approached, and he held the door for her and bowed slightly.

  The inside of the building was just as chaotic as the street outside. There were construction workers, painters, and people in hard hats everywhere. The smells of plaster and fresh paint hit Michael as soon as the door closed behind her. Renovation was an understatement. It appeared the entire first level had been gutted and was undergoing a major facelift. There were no walls, only studs and support beams. A large, wide staircase in the center of the lobby looked to be the only thing staying the same, and Michael could see why. It reminded her of a staircase she’d see in a plantation house in Atlanta. It didn’t quite match the exterior of the building but it was Michael’s favorite part.

  She headed over to a tall counter that resembled something that would be at a hotel check-in desk, the only furniture in the space. There was a short man behind the counter playing with his phone and reading a magazine. He didn’t notice her when she walked up, so she rapped her knuckles on the dark wood, dumping her bags at her feet. The man pulled one ear bud from his ear. “Help you?”

  “Yeah, I’m Michael Shafer. I’m here to do a big piece for lobby. Do you know where they want me to work?”

  “Oh yeah, Shafer…” he said, picking up a clipboard and scrolling the names. “Right this way. They’ve got you over here.”

  Michael hefted her tool bag and her duffel and followed the man as he walked briskly past a wall that was in the process of being removed. As she rounded the corner, a grin spread across her face. Under a nondescript gray tarp must be sitting a huge hunk of marble, hers for the taking. Her fingers tingled as she neared the middle of the space and grabbed a corner of the tarp from the floor.

  “The name’s Jim if you need anything. They want guests to sign in and out, so if you’re expecting someone, just let me know.”

  Michael ignored Jim as she pulled hard on the heavy fabric and her medium was revealed. Becoming acquainted with a new medium was a special moment for Michael. She rubbed her hands over the raw edges of the marble, mentally taking measurements and deciding which angles would work best. Jim huffed and walked out of the space.

  Michael sighed and pulled off her polo shirt, leaving her in a white tank and old jeans. She also removed her shoes. She hated working with shoes on. Turning around and surveying the room for the first time, Michael realized Marguerite had honored her every request. Two entire walls of the room were windows, letting in large amounts of natural light. There was a large wooden workbench with a corkboard hung above it on the wall nearest the door. Deciding to get right to work, Michael pulled out her tools and arranged them by size on the workbench. Next she pulled out the dozens of sketches she had been working on. Glancing at the marble, she opened a pack of push pins from the table. She could already feel her ideas coming to life.

  Tacking papers to the corkboard, Michael stood back to examine the numerous angles she had previously sketched her subject from. The woman she envisioned was begging for life, and Michael couldn’t wait to oblige. Scrutinizing her sketches for a moment longer, Michael grabbed her tools and went to work.

  *

  “What the hell do you mean she left? No good-bye? No nothing? What the fuck? I’ll kill her!” Morgan screeched, banging her fist on the top of their favorite table at Nine’s. “After all that? She just left you?” she continued, anger contorting her delicate facial features. Jess was too heartbroken to scold Morgan for her language.

  “I don’t know why she left. It was the most amazing night of my entire life, and I wake up in the morning to find a drawing and a note that says ‘I’m sorry.’ That’s it!” Jess bit her lip. It had been nearly a week since Michael left, and after no word from her, Jess’s anger had turned to despair. And she felt ashamed and embarrassed to boot. Michael hadn’t even contacted her. Good gracious! She was not going to contact Michael. Her heart was in a zillion pieces, and she looked like a before picture from a makeover, but she still had a shred of pride.

  Morgan had come over to Jess’s apartment that afternoon, demanding that Jess tell her what was going on. “You look like a zombie. All you do is listen to Radiohead and read Wuthering Heights. Are you going to start adopting cats? What the hell is going on?” she had said, flopping on the couch, determined to get some answers.

  “I don’t even like cats. And there is nothing wrong with a little nineties alternative entertainment.” Pretending to tidy her already immaculate living room and putting Emily Bronte back on the book shelf, Jess hoped Morgan wouldn’t notice all the framed pictures of Michael and her were facedown. Jess was normally pretty neat, but to keep her mind off Michael, she had taken up cleaning in her free time. Deep cleaning. Like cleaning the grooves in the wood of her coffee table with a toothbrush kind of cleaning.

  “You can’t miss Michael that much,” Morgan snorted. At this comment Jess sank into the sofa, folding her legs under her, and stared at Morgan. The ever-present headache returned and exhaustion made her hands shake. Most nights she would lie awake thinking about Michael’s smile, Michael’s hands, her lips. On the nights she wasn’t on the brink of orgasm just from reliving her night with Michael, she would cry and eat piles of sweets. She was grumpy and irritable. She couldn’t concentrate and she was lashing out, but she wouldn’t lie to her friend and she was tired of avoiding her. Anger began to bubble up, roiling into rage in a matter of seconds.

  “You want to know what’s wrong? I slept with Michael! We slept together and it was incredible. It was life changing. And then she left. I am completely and utterly in love with her! We had sex, and we spent all night pleasuring each other, then she got up and left me alone in her bed the next morning to start her new life in New York. That’s what’s wrong!” After the outburst, Jess clamped her mouth.

  Morgan stood there, staring at Jess in disbelief. “Come with me,” Morgan said, pulling Jess by the hand. “We’re going to Nine’s, and you’re going to tell me everything.”

  So here they sat, three hours later, way past Jess’s bedtime. She had relived every amazing moment of her lovemaking with Michael. Well, almost every moment. She left out the most intimate details, like the fact that she had five orgasms and the fact that her throat was sore the next day from screaming Michael’s name. She also left out the fact that she’d had no idea how flexible she was until that night, but from her abbreviated version of the story, Morgan got the idea.

  “Morgan, it was…I don’t know. Just think of the most epic thing you can imagine—”

  “Oh, that Meatloaf music video. Totally. You know, the one where he’s the beast and that chick is beauty and there’s an orchestra.” Morgan pumped her fist in the air. “So epic.”

  “Yeah, yeah I get it. It was like that. But sex. And no Meatloaf.”

  “Well, call her dumb ass.” Morgan leaned forward with a dumbfounded look, as
if the answer to this problem were that simple.

  “No!” Jess shot back with a glare.

  Morgan held up her hands in apology. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but you can’t let her ruin this. You deserve happiness. And if Michael isn’t the one to give it to you, you damn well deserve an explanation.”

  “I just can’t,” Jess whispered weakly. “I can’t talk to her, knowing how much that night meant to me, and knowing she doesn’t feel the same way. I just can’t do it, Morgan. Can you understand? She’s the love of my life, and she doesn’t want to be with me. She regrets our night together. I don’t want to hear that from her.” She finished the last words in a scratchy sob. She was glad they were among the last of the patrons at Nine’s, otherwise she would feel that much more like a blubbering idiot.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Morgan left her side of the booth and scooted in close to Jess.

  Jess pulled Morgan toward her into a tight hug.

  *

  A month had gone by since Michael had spoken to Jess. A month since they had made love. Michael spent her days sculpting and working to exhaustion so she could fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. On most days, especially sixteen- or eighteen-hour days where she had barely taken time to eat, sleep would come easily. But it was on nights like tonight, when her mind was racing and her body was wired, that she had the most trouble finding rest.

  The New York skyline at night was so terrific that Michael had taken to sleeping with the drapes open. Tonight she stood looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows, wearing only her black briefs. Below, the tiny cars moving in straight lines reminded her that there were so many people in the world, but she had never felt so alone. She had even begun avoiding speaking to her mother because she too often asked about Jess.

  Camille called her often, but she hadn’t told her about what happened with Jess. She knew exactly what Camille’s reaction would be. She thought Michael and Jess belonged together. In some tiny space in the back of her heart, Michael had hoped that was true. But after a month with no word from Jess, Michael could only assume Jess had written her off. Was she angry that Michael had allowed their night together to happen? Had she come to terms with the fact that their friendship would be forever changed and they should probably just go their separate ways?

  How did Jess feel about all this? Maybe she could open the lines of communication…just a little. Hopping on the bed, Michael grabbed her cell phone, opened a blank message, and typed “I miss you.” It took her several minutes to get up enough courage to press send, and at the last second, she pressed cancel instead.

  With more force than she intended, Michael threw her phone against the wall and watched it break in half. Cursing at her cowardice, Michael went over to the dresser and poured a shot. She had started keeping tequila in the hotel room to help her sleep. Perhaps a sleep aid would have worked better, but it wouldn’t help to numb her feelings. Michael sat on the edge of the bed and downed the shot. Then she cradled her head in her hands.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “You’re not wearing that, are you?” Morgan spat as she entered the living room of Jess’s apartment. She looked Jess up and down as she put her purse on the counter.

  “What’s wrong with this?” Jess shrugged her shoulders and spun in a small circle. Okay, so she hadn’t tried very hard, but these days Jess was more concerned with comfort than what looked good. As long as there were no stains or holes, it would work for her. Tonight was the first time she agreed to go out with the girls since Michael left. A night at home with Stephen King in one hand and a wineglass in the other was much more appealing.

  “You look like you just crawled out of bed…for the first time in two weeks. At least your hair is brushed.” Morgan made a disgusted face. “Are your teeth?” She held her hand out for Jess to precede her into the bedroom. “You might not want a woman, but I don’t want you to scare them all away. Go change.”

  “Fine, but I’m only trying on one more thing.” Jess went back into her closet. Why do I have so many clothes? She grabbed the dark blue dress she’d worn to Michael’s last gallery showing and threw it on the floor. Nope. Pulling on the sleeve of her billowy pink blouse, she decided against that too. She wore that the last time she and Michael went to the antique furniture market. Scooting to the very back of her closet, Jess saw a forest green dress she bought online a few years ago. She couldn’t even remember the last time she wore it. Perfect.

  “Have you heard from the Asshole Stud Muffin?” This was Morgan’s latest nickname for Michael since Jess had discussed their night together and the way Michael disappeared afterward. Much to Jess’s relief, the names were becoming less and less offensive.

  In her heart, Jess knew Morgan was trying to be supportive, but the last thing she wanted to discuss was Michael. “I would have told you if I had. I have agreed to go out tonight, so can we please not talk about it?”

  “I don’t want to talk about her,” Morgan said casually, and under her breath added, “I want to kill her.”

  “Morgan.” Jess left the closet dressed and gave Morgan a scowl. As angry as she was at Michael, she still felt a need to protect her. I love her. It felt strange saying it to herself, but it made it all the more real and made Michael’s absence in her life that much more acute.

  “Fine. Sorry. No more mentions of the Deadbeat Douche Bag.” Morgan hopped off the bed and ran from the room to avoid the sweater Jess threw at her.

  *

  Nine’s was no more crowded than usual and Jess was relieved that the music for the drag show had already started. She wouldn’t have to talk to anyone too much. It helped a lot to know that her friends were there for her, but Jess wanted to be at home, not watching the smiling faces of lesbians in love or girls flirting with potential bed partners. At Morgan’s suggestion that Jess sleep with someone else to get her mind off Michael, Jess felt nauseous. She didn’t want to erase the memory of Michael’s hands with the unfamiliar touch of some stranger. After getting her drink from Robin, she made her way through the crowd toward the stage as Morgan stopped to speak to a few friends.

  “Hey, we’re over here, Jess!” Stevie said over the music as Jess changed directions toward their regular booth. “So glad you could come!” Stevie seemed in good spirits, probably due to the barely legal girl draped on her arm. Jess tried not to scowl.

  “Me too. I’ve been really busy.” Reevaluating everything I thought I could trust in my life. Jess set her drink down and scooted into the booth. She was relieved that Camille was talking to a couple to their right. Maybe she wouldn’t notice Jess had arrived. Jess liked Camille, but other than their closest friends, they ran in completely different circles. The only thing they really had in common was Michael, and Jess felt sure that would be at the top of the list of things to make small talk about.

  The stage was set in the middle of the back wall and was visible from most of the booths on the upper end of the bar past the dance floor. Jess almost wished they were closer to the performers. Back here they would be able to talk over the music. Talk and ask questions. She felt afraid anyone might ask her why she hadn’t been out lately or if she had heard from Michael. But she had to do this. She could do this. It was for Morgan. To help Morgan feel like Jess wanted to rejoin the land of the living.

  People scooted their chairs back to their tables to wait for the show to begin, and before Jess could think of a good reason to leave the table, Camille leaned over, trying to be heard over the music. “It’s been a while. How are you? Missing Michael?” Camille asked.

  Jess set her drink down, sure she was going to drop it at the mention of Michael’s name. Jess’s eyes darted between Camille and the drag queen on stage, dressed like a peacock and performing to “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Michael had taken her to see Bonnie Tyler two years ago for her birthday. Another memory. Jess’s throat tightened and she stood, nearly knocking the table over.

  “I…I, um…I have to go to the bathroom.” Jess raced throug
h the throng of people and to the empty bathroom. Turning the faucet on full blast, she splashed cold water on her face. She hadn’t been wearing makeup lately—no fear of messing that up.

  Michael was everywhere. Jess couldn’t escape her. Not in her closet, not at Nine’s, not even in her dreams. Her friendship with Michael encompassed and defined her life. Her heart belonged to Michael, but now her body did too. Nothing was hers anymore. Just as she finished drying her face with a rough brown paper towel, Camille came into the bathroom with a concerned look.

  “Are you okay?” She put her hand on Jess’s shoulder and looked at her in the mirror.

  “Have you talked to Michael?” Jess asked before she could stop herself, trying to keep the anger and pain from her voice. She had to know. Had to know if she was okay. She had to know if she was happy. Was she enjoying her work? Was she making friends? Was she going out with friends? Was she fucking someone?

  “I…well, yes. I’ve spoken to her a few times. She’s been working nonstop and she’s ahead of schedule. I was actually going to ask if you could talk to her. She needs to slow down. I don’t want her worn out for the opening,” Camille said with a small smile. She obviously thought this was a change in subject from whatever Jess was so upset about. Well, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

  “She didn’t tell you, did she?” Jess let out a slow breath and counted to ten, just as she told her students to do when they became angry or upset. Why should it be such a secret? Was Michael that ashamed of their night together that she didn’t even tell one of her best friends?