Work of Art ~ the Collection

by Ruth Clampett

He closes his eyes tightly, as if he’s in pain, and I stroke his other cheek.

  “Nothing about us is like what Chloe and I had. You’re so much more. That’s why I’m terrified to lose you.”

  I know he wants to be good for me, but he’ll have to fight his natural instincts. He wants to control and possess me, but I’ll never allow that.

  We’re still figuring out how to be together. Between his past scars and my abandonment issues, we both have a lot to work out to be the type of couple I hope we can be. I place my hand on his chest over his heart.

  “Help me want to stay, Max. Give me my space and your trust. I need your respect, but most of all, treat me with love . . . always.”

  “Oh, Ava.” He pulls me into his arms.

  Even though we’re frightened and raw, this time when I rest my head on his shoulder, I feel hope that we can unfold our hearts so that they can lay open to each other once again.

  Chapter Sixteen / The Enchanted Land

  The main thing is to be moved, to love, to hope, to tremble, to live.

  ~Auguste Rodin

  We’re in each other’s arms, and I try to imagine a time when we can be a regular couple, making plans and sharing stories about each other’s days, instead of all passion and emotion.

  When we faced the light, we were tender reverence, writing poetry with fingertips across each other’s skin, but when the darkness came, it was fierce. We set fire to the structure we’d built and angrily watched it burn. We may have fought in combat, passionately electrified, but we finished our war, battle-worn and unsure.

  Finally, I slide out of bed. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Can I join you?” he asks with a tentative voice.

  “Would it be okay if I do it alone? I need some more time to myself. I think I’ll walk around town a bit to clear my head.”

  He nods and his expression gets cloudy before he turns away. I imagine he’s disappointed, but he needs to give me the space and he knows it.

  As the hot water rushes over me, I wonder how his phone call with his therapist went. I’m curious what she said about our relationship. The last time he saw her, we weren’t together, and now we’ve quickly woven our hearts together in a fragile patchwork quilt.

  When I finally emerge from the bathroom, he’s opened the curtains and is working with charcoal again on a larger sheet of rag paper.

  Rather than approach him, I lean up against the wall and watch him work. His handsome face is serious as he moves the charcoal in fluid strokes. The work is abstract, full of shading, rich with depth and texture.

  I admire his concentration and intensity. He’s focused entirely on the image as if he’s letting his spirit guide his hand. His eyes are dark and brooding, and I try to imagine what he sees when he creates. How does he feel about us at this very moment? Are the darkest parts of this charcoal a reflection of the depths we’ve sunk to? Are the scant light areas where he still holds hope in his heart?

  After a couple of minutes, I start to feel awkward. He knows I’m watching, and he’s choosing to ignore me.

  “Max, I’m going to wander around town for a while. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

  “Okay,” he says, as he presses the charcoal into the paper with more force.

  I wait for a moment and then walk over and rest my hands on his bare shoulders. I can feel his tension in my hands and see the anguish in his art. I stroke his beautifully defined muscles and kiss him on the back of his neck.

  “I love you,” I whisper and move to the door. I open it, but I’m reluctant to walk away from him.

  I’m two steps over the threshold when he calls out to me. “Ava, can we go together to the dinner tonight?”

  I turn and smile. “Of course, I’ll be back in time to get ready.”

  He doesn’t lift his fingers from the paper, but he lets out a deep breath. “Okay, hurry back . . . I-I mean take your time, but . . .” He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “Fuck, this is complicated . . . I don’t know what I should say.”

  I repeat the only thing that matters. “I love you, Max.”

  “I love you too, Ava.” He smiles, and I finally feel okay about leaving as I head out and walk to town under the brilliant Santa Fe sky.

  Later that evening, we drive into town to meet our friends for dinner. La Fonda is a historic hotel in downtown Santa Fe that’s a series of adobe cubes stacked in an uneven collection of building blocks. I love that the dining room is the consummate classic Santa Fe experience of festive colors and richly flavored foods.

  I grip Max’s hand the entire way into the restaurant. I’m determined for us to sit together. The way he pulls me close, I sense he needs me near him, and I crave the same. We’re part of a large group seated at a long wooden table, and we end up sandwiched between Jess and Dylan.

  Everyone’s tired from the long days, but once the margaritas flow, we get festive. Our group’s expanded as well. A couple of Joe’s friends, Jackie and Michael, have joined us for the evening.

  There are jars of crayons scattered every few feet and a large sheet of craft paper rolled across the long table. I’m not sure if this is a regular part of this restaurant’s décor, but with a table full of competitive artists, everyone’s bound to sketch something with the thick waxy crayons.

  Dylan surprises us with a Chagall-inspired image of a couple floating out a window. He explains that it’s Riley and him. I take a picture of it with my phone and send it to Riley, so she’s reminded how much he’s missing his girl.

  Not to be undone, Max draws us in profile facing each other, where we fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. It’s simple in its design, but my hair is a swirl of color fanning around us. When he’s done, I kiss him as we lean into each other, relieved to let go of the anguish from earlier in the day.

  Jackie’s a fashion photographer attending the show because prints of her work sell in the fine art world. She has her camera out, photographing us and our antics.

  Jess draws a scene from our dinner in the style of The Last Supper with Adam standing in the center as Jesus. Rather than mimicking the positions and personalities of the apostles from the original, she works everyone into the scene with Max, Laura, Mia, Dylan, and me to the left and Katherine, Brian, Joe, Xio, Michael, and Jackie to the right.

  As dinner wraps up, Jess convinces us to join her at disco-funk night at the only gay bar in town. It’s a small club, but the DJ’s outstanding and the music’s really rocking. We find some tables and order drinks before I excuse myself to find the bathroom.

  When I get back, Max isn’t at our table. I find him full-on dancing to Earth, Wind & Fire’s classic “September” with Jess, and they’re damn good. It’s like Justin Timberlake dancing with Ellen DeGeneres; they both really have the moves. Michael and Jackie are also impressive, moving with such a natural rhythm, and I’m amazed they aren’t professional dancers. I sit down and watch them as I nurse my drink. Almost everyone at the bar is watching them too.

  Max scans our table, and when our eyes meet, he smiles and motions for me to join them. I shake my head and lift my glass. He nods and continues. I want more of a buzz before I publically humiliate myself.

  Max looks as if he’s really having fun, and I love it. After a couple of songs, Mia cuts in and dances with Max, while Brian pulls me out to the dance floor.

  I catch Max watching as I move with the big guy. There’s a comfort I have around Brian that makes him especially fun to dance with. Gradually, we end up in one big group, weaving and dancing among the other club-goers.

  Eventually, I return to our table to take a sip of my drink. Joe’s there waiting for Xio and watching Jackie and Michael dance.

  “They’re really something,” I comment as they dance past us.

  “He moves like Usher. It’s hard to believe he’s white,” Joe jokes.

  “What’s their story anyway?”

  “I used to date Jackie. Man, I was crazy about her, but she never wanted to ge
t too close to anyone. It made me so crazy, and I couldn’t deal. We’ve been just friends now for a couple of years.” He laughs to himself. “I have to admit, I’m taking perverse pleasure that she’s wild for Michael, but can’t pin him down. He may be her number one model now, but he has much bigger plans for the future.”

  “He’s really handsome. I’m not surprised he models.”

  “And you wouldn’t believe the way women go after him, even older women . . . he charms them all.”

  Hearing their story makes me feel a surge of appreciation that Max wants me just as much as I want him. I no longer have to live with the ache of uncertainty.

  Xio approaches the table, and Joe smiles as she pulls him onto the dance floor.

  Jess joins me and scoots closer so we can talk over the music. “So, what the fuck was that all about in the restaurant today at lunch?”

  “That was Max marking his territory.” I shake my head with disgust.

  Jess raises an eyebrow. “Has he fucking lost his mind? I yelled at him the whole way back to the hotel, but he wouldn’t say anything about what was going on.”

  “So, you didn’t have lunch?”

  “No, I was too mad.”

  “Jess, the weirdest part is, we’ve had the most glorious time together here, and then he freaks out on me. I know with our collective baggage that we’ll face stuff like this, I just didn’t think it would be this fast.”

  “Yeah, when you operate from fear, things can get dark really quickly.”

  “I know, but damn, I love him. And I really want to work these things out.”

  “You have to try, Ava. You know I tried to keep you from him for a long time, but when I see you together, I realize you can’t fight destiny. If I’ve ever met two people who are meant for each other, it’s you two.”

  I give her a hug before we rejoin the party on the dance floor.

  The next morning, we’re worn around the edges from our emotional journey. It’s also intensely sobering to realize that we’re going home today. Part of me is fearful to leave the cocoon of our hotel room. There’s a magical feeling about Santa Fe. What if we’ve been under a spell that shatters under the harsh light of L.A.?

  Max pulls me close. “I don’t want to leave Santa Fe,” he whispers.

  “What if everything’s different when we get home?”

  “We can’t let that happen, Ava.” He sighs with a tinge of sadness.

  On the drive to the airport in Albuquerque, I quietly watch the New Mexico landscape through my window. I’m drawn to the blanket of purple hills nestled up to the cloudy sky. I want to get out of the car and run through the fields until my legs give out or I take flight, but I remain silent as we speed along. Max is immersed in his thoughts too, as he drives us away from our magic place.

  The license plate on the car in front of us reads New Mexico, Land of Enchantment. Nothing could be truer.

  On the plane, he takes my hand and runs his fingertips across my palm, writing silent notes and outlining simple drawings of animals and stars. I wish I could look into his head and see what he sees. Maybe I’ll never understand him, but because I love him, I’ll never stop trying.

  We walk with Brian and Jess to the baggage claim. When it’s time to get our cars, Max pulls me into his arms, and I drop my bags.

  “I’ll call you tonight,” he whispers.

  “And in the morning,” I demand. We’re both overloaded this week, so even though it’ll only be a few days until I see him again, any separation leaves me hungry.

  “Damn, Ava, what am I going to do without you?”

  Before I can respond, his lips are on me and I’m falling into him. I can’t hear the taxis or the chant of worn travelers . . . all I can hear is my heart pounding and I feel a tear trail down my cheek. I feel silly about crying and try to brush it away.

  Jess moans. “For fuck’s sake. You two act like this is good-bye forever. Enough with the melodrama. We’re outta here. Ava, come on!”

  I gather up my bags as Jess and Brian give Max quick good-byes.

  “I love you!” I call as I move away toward the parking shuttle.

  He stands completely still as travelers speed past him. The vision of him—hands in his pockets, head tipped sideways, a quiet smile on his face and love in his eyes—fills my heart and my mind until I’m so full I can barely move. Brian takes several steps back, grabs my arm and pulls me along.

  He laughs. “Damn, girl, you’ve got it bad.”

  I sigh before turning away. “Oh, Brian, you have no idea.”

  Chapter Seventeen / I am His Queen

  If I know what love is, it is because of you.

  ~ Herman Hesse

  “Ava, did I wake you?” he whispers, as I cradle the phone to my ear.

  “No, I’ve just been lying in bed thinking about you . . . waiting for your call.”

  He groans. “Damn, don’t make me think about you in bed. I’ll have to come over and keep you up all night.”

  “Mmm. What have you been up to, handsome? Did you have a good evening?”

  “I haven’t stopped painting since I got home. I’ve never been so inspired.”

  He sounds so excited.

  “Maybe it’s because you’re in love,” I tease.

  “That’s what your love does to me, Ava.”

  I sigh, my breath heavy with satisfaction. “That makes me happy. Will you show me the work when I see you next?”

  “I’ll show you everything. You’re in my art now. You’re part of everything I do.”

  Hours later, my room slowly fills with light, waking me before my alarm, and I glide effortlessly through my morning. Even Sean notices the change, and I do my best to avoid his probing questions. I’m not letting anything or anyone burst my happy bubble today.

  That evening, I start my research on Andrea Altman, but my mind constantly drifts to Max. We have a dinner date scheduled for Wednesday night, and I can’t wait to see him again.

  I have a vague sense of my phone ringing, and it wakes me up. I slowly move the phone to my face and blink several times at the screen. Max.

  “Hey, handsome. What’s up?”

  “Ava, I need to see you. Can I come over?”

  “It’s the middle of the night. Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

  “I’m just wound up. I haven’t slept since Santa Fe. I mean, I’ve tried, but I haven’t been able to. I’ve been painting, and I can’t stop; I’m starting to freak out.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’ve been driving around. I’m almost to West Hollywood.”

  “Come over. I’ll be waiting.”

  I slide out of bed, my naked skin shocked by the cool evening air. I’ve taken to sleeping nude since Santa Fe, only the sheets cradling me as I sleep.

  I wrap myself in my pale blue silk robe and wander into the kitchen for a glass of water. I’m glad Riley’s spent the night at Dylan’s, now that Max is headed over. Only moments later, he knocks on the door, and I feel a rush of adrenaline, knowing he’s here.

  I open the door. Max looks completely exhausted and wired, and although his lack of sleep has worn him down, he still lights up when he sees me.

  I grab his hand and lead him inside before caressing his face. “Baby, you look so tired. Are you okay?”

  “I am now. I just needed to see you.” He wraps his arms around me and holds me close. His sigh runs straight through me. I want to chase away his anxiety and smooth out every wrinkle and bump.

  “Come, sit down.”

  He collapses onto the couch and drags his messenger bag strap over his shoulder. Pulling the flap open, he says, “Here, I brought you something.”

  “What is it?”

  He hands me two books about Andrea Altman to help me with my research. Something about this simple gesture stirs me to my core.

  “Max,” I sigh and crawl over him, straddling him. I gently frame his face with my hands. It hasn’t escaped me that he’s trying to support me in my
project with Nick. I graze my fingers over his cheeks and look solemnly into his eyes.

  “Baby, what made you think to get me these?”

  “I’m always thinking about you, Ava.” He runs his hands across my naked thighs.

  I study his face, trying to understand the blur of emotions running across it.

  “Besides, I thought they would help you.” He smiles unsteadily, as if he isn’t sure that his gesture was the right thing to do.

  “Thank you for the books, Max. I can’t tell you how much it means that you went out of your way to help me.”

  His expression is hopeful. “I do want to help you. I want your happiness more than my own now. I fucking love you, Ava.”

  “I love you too, Max.” I kiss him softly and run my fingers slowly through his hair. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the couch, while I make soft circles with my nails across his scalp and feather kisses along his forehead. As he relaxes, I can feel his body and mind open. It’s encouraging to know he trusts me to help him step out of the dark places.

  He runs his hands along my back, across the soft silk of my robe, before he pulls me closer.

  “I’ve missed you.” The next kiss has more fire as I press up against him. He’s exhausted, yet I can’t help the passion his closeness stirs in me. Sleep, not sex, is what he needs, so I start to move off his lap.

  He takes hold of my hips so I can’t move. “Where are you going?”

  “To put you to bed. You need sleep more than me rubbing against you.”

  “I’ve been awake this long . . . Please keep rubbing.” He gives me a sheepish grin and presses my hand to his arousal straining against his jeans. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go to sleep until I get my fill of you.”

  I skim my lips along his ear. “Really? Can I make love to you, Max? I’ll do most of the work.”

  “Yes, please,” he moans.

  As I kiss his neck and run my teeth along his chin, he repeats my name in whispers before he begins to unravel. I kiss him slow and deep, feeling his hardness pulsing as I sink further into his lap.