by Sara Cate
They are two different people.
The Alex I met then was confident, a beast I wished would devour me.
What I have now is a man who is struggling like me. No matter his twenty years on me, he still feels the same sense of loss, the same torn consciousness, the same daily fight with who he wants to be and who he sees in the mirror.
His age does not intimidate me or place us on different planes. We see each other through the same filter. Being alone with Alexander doesn’t feel like being with my family. I’m no longer guarded, alone, or desperate for affection. For the hundredth time this week, I say a silent prayer that this thing between us sticks, because I need it to.
“What are you thinking?” he asks from across the room, pulling the sheets back from the bed. Wordlessly, I slip into my side and crawl over to him. When he sits down, I run my fingers through his dark hair, with the gray flecks at the temple, and I kiss his lips. I let my lips linger in that position for a moment, drinking in the sensation of his kiss.
When he draws me against his body, we fall into bed together, taking our time with each other tonight. Everything from peeling our clothes off to the gentle way he enters me is delicate, savoring each and every moment.
I push away my worries as he thrusts, deeper and deeper, force behind every powerful movement, so that when my body unwinds from the climax, I melt into him. We melt into each other, and I try to convince myself that I have absolutely nothing to worry about.
Sunny
“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Alex asks, leaning over to brush his lips against my temple while I apply another coat of mascara.
“Of course,” I say, feigning confidence.
He woke me up this morning with news that a friend of his, an art-lover from the city, wants to see the finished mural. It’s nerve-wracking to imagine someone judging my work, and I keep thinking about the slope of the girl’s nose, worried that I didn’t put enough definition in her complexion and she looks too amateur.
Alexander keeps reminding me it’s perfect.
The only thing scarier than someone seeing my artwork is meeting one of Alexander’s friends. We’ve been good since the party at my mom’s last weekend, but I don’t know if he’s ready to be official with his friends yet.
He answers my question when the doorbell rings, and Alex promptly grabs my hand. It comforts my worries, but doesn’t make me feel any more adequate on his arm. He’s grown his beard out, and his hair, which is gelled and coiffed on the top of his head, making him look too fucking good. He’s in a white-button up shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow and a pair of snug black chinos. Next to him, in my cut-off shorts and cheap tank top, I feel like a kid standing beside a grown-up.
It doesn't help that the couple standing behind the door is gorgeous and interesting. The woman is dark-skinned with a tasteful piercing through her septum and a hairdo cut short to her scalp. She’s in a simple black dress that comes down to her mid-thigh.
The man has shoulder-length hair and is also dressed in black. He looks exactly like you’d expect an art-lover to look.
I immediately feel like a fraud.
“Gino, this is Sunny Thorn,” Alexander says with a smile as his friend reaches for my hand.
“Such pleasure to meet you, Sunny. This is my friend Valerie.”
The woman takes my hands in hers and pulls me in for a tight hug. The four of us fall into easy conversation as Gino and Alexander catch up and we give them a tour of the house, which is still littered with unopened boxes in every corner.
“I’m ready to see this mural,” Valerie chirps, squeezing my hand with a bright smile.
Heat floods my cheeks as we walk out toward the pool house. When we reach the doorway, I tense up next to Alexander, but he meets my nerves with an arm around my shoulder and a comforting squeeze.
The couple gasps in unison, and I stand back and watch as they approach the ten by fifteen painting I slaved over for three months. From far away, I have to admire it myself.
It’s bright, brighter than I expected it would turn out. The girl’s blonde locks are highlighted with streaks of bright pink and gold. Her eyes are the same shade of blue as the pool behind us, and behind her is a collage of tropical colors. A turquoise bird, a yellow palm tree, the sun, the sand, the water.
“Does she have the look?” I ask Alexander, so quietly the other two can’t hear.
“What look?”
“The one that says she wants you.” When I glance up at him, he smirks at me before leaning down and dropping his lips against mine.
“This is phenomenal,” Valerie says as she steps closer to us.
Hastily, Alexander pulls away from me and nods. “I agree.”
“I have a wall in my apartment that needs something like this, Sunny. I hope you’re ready to get to work on more.”
We all laugh, and Alexander offers them something to drink. The four of us sit around the patio table while Gino tells us all about the art he’s been buying, dealing, wants, and it’s overwhelming for me. These were the people I went to art school with, the ones who scared me away, made me feel like I would never belong. Now, he’s looking at me like he admires me.
“So, Valerie is one of the directors for the downtown art co-op,” Gino says nonchalantly, and I freeze in my chair.
“Really?” Alex replies, and my eyes dash to his face. Did he know about this?
The sudden feeling of being ambushed makes my heart pick up pace.
“Have you heard about that program, Sunny? I think you would really belong in something like that.”
Alexander’s tapping foot freezes. “I’ve been telling Sunny about it. I thought she could apply,” Alexander says, still holding my hand, tighter than ever.
“Oh, with work like this, I have no doubt you’d get in, Sunny.”
The blood drains from my face. “No.”
The table grows quiet instantly. “I mean...it’s a lot to think about.”
“For sure,” Valerie says carefully, a tight smile aimed at Alexander.
Gino drones on about some artist who graduated from the program and went on to paint some award-winning art in Europe. I can’t focus on his story. I let my mind consider this for a moment, what it might be like to spend so long away from Alexander. Him alone in this house for months on end. Would it be worth it?
He laughs along with his friends, and I start to feel more and more out of place. Every so often, they glance my way, asking me a question. I try to act as normal as possible answering, but I feel out of place no matter what.
They stick around for another hour, and it seems like they do more talking about me than to me, and I feel myself growing more and more irritated. Even Alexander mentions me like I’m not even there, and I desperately want them to leave so that he and I can return to normal and pretend none of this happened.
The room is silent and tense as Alex and I clean up the glasses around the patio. There are so many unspoken words between us, and I just keep waiting for one of us to break. But just when I expect him to say something, he comes up behind me and puts his arms around my waist instead. His lips touch the side of my neck, and I jerk away.
“I don’t want to fight,” he mumbles, and I believe him. In fact, I don’t want to fight either, but there is too much fogging the air between us.
“You were treating me like I was a kid,” I whisper, looking down at where his hands hold mine.
“You are a kid, Sunny.”
“I’m not, Alex. I’m twenty. I know what I want, and I don’t need you to try and push me into something.”
I pull away from him and walk across the room. I don’t trust myself to be touched by him, afraid I’ll give in and let him pull me to bed so we can sweep all of these feelings under the rug where I know they’ll fester and ruin us.
“Is it wrong for me to want the best for you?” he asks, crossing his arms and staring at me with a furrowed brow.
“I don’t want to do that program. Bu
t you won’t listen to me,” I cry. “You think it’s best for me because you want it for me. I’m telling you I don’t want it.”
He clenches his jaw and glances away. “You don’t want it because you don’t think you’re good enough. You’re too scared to do it on your own.”
It feels like a punch to my chest. “I’m not scared of anything,” I say through clenched teeth.
“You are. It’s why you left art school. You blame it on the divorce and money, but I know it’s because you were scared of being alone. It’s why the farthest you made it from your mother’s house is my house.”
“Why are you being so mean to me?”
“I’m not being mean, Sunny. I’m trying to help you.”
“No, you’re not. You’re trying to push me away because you think it’s best for me. I see that, and I wish you’d stop.” Tears prick the backs of my eyes as he walks across the room, his hands folded behind his head.
“Then, what is it?” he asks. “Why don’t you want to do it? When it could launch your career farther than anything else. When I was your age, I blew off every single good opportunity that came my way. I threw my life away instead, and it took me twenty years to get here. Why don’t you get it?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t want to. Do I really need a reason?”
“Yes. Sunny,” he lets out a long sigh. “I didn’t pursue anything I wanted to. I took the easy way and it got me nowhere. I want better for you.”
“Stop treating me like a kid!” I cry. “What if I want nothing more than to paint and be with you? Why can’t I do that? They said I could get jobs, so I’ll do that. That program is six months, Alexander. Six months that I’ll have to live there, work full time, almost never see you. What if what we have doesn’t survive that? What if you…” my voice trails.
“What if I what?”
“What if you move on? What if you forget about me?” My throat aches as I force the words out. “What if you cheat on me?” I watch the expression drain from his face. He doesn’t react in anger or sadness. A neutral tone takes over the features of his face and after a long breath, he walks away, onto the patio alone.
With my next blink, tears spill onto my cheeks.
Resting my elbows on the counter, my face in my hands, the moisture seeps through my fingers while he sits in silence on the patio. I wish I hadn’t said those words to him because I know they hurt. The pain of knowing that I don’t trust him. I can’t trust him, and that’s what will hold me back. It’s the knife through his heart, one that I’d been holding onto since before we started this thing we have. I knew what I was getting into with him. I heard the stories, knew the man, heard the things he’d done, and I fell hopelessly in love with him anyway.
Now I had to face the cards in my hand. I can fold, or I can play.
After a few minutes, I step quietly out to see him. I drop into the chair opposite from him, and I watch him wrestle with these emotions.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t be. You’re right to be worried.”
Another punch to the gut.
“That’s not what I meant. Sunny, I want to tell you I’d never do that to you. I love you too much, but that’s the kind of person I am, isn’t it? Impulsive. Selfish. But that’s not what has me worried.”
My eyes lift to his face as he narrows his gaze on me. “What worries me is that you’d pass on this—the opportunity that would change your life—because of me. Because you love me and yet you know...I’m…”
There are tears in his eyes, and a sob wracks my chest. Please don’t say it.
“I’m a monster.”
“Don’t say that,” I whisper through my tears.
It’s quiet for a moment as he stares out at the cool water rippling across the pool. The autumn air sends a chill in the breeze, and I bawl silently while he does nothing.
“If I say you can trust me, would you go?”
“I do trust you, Alex.”
“Then, go.”
“Let me think about it, okay?”
When his eyes meet mine again, the air between us is saturated with this new pain, the doubt, the guilt, the fear.
“Okay,” he agrees finally, and I can’t stop myself from crawling onto his lap. The need to touch him is unbearable. He pulls me into his arms and buries his face in my neck. I hold him tighter than ever, and I wish that I could take back every word I said today.
Alexander
We park the Audi in the garage under the gallery, and as soon as she gets out of the car, I take her hand in mine. I don’t know why I do it—I did it when Gino came over, too, but it’s my statement right out of the gate. I’m not afraid of people knowing we’re together. I’m not hung up on this image of myself anymore.
Of course, her statement the other day about trusting me hasn’t quite dissolved yet. It’s still settled between us like pollution, clogging up the air we breathe.
I didn’t want to be angry at her for that statement, but I was. I was angry she said those words to me, but I hated the situation she put me in. Again, and again, I’m backed into a corner with Sunny.
She’s forcing my hand.
If she stays home for me, I will have to live with the fact that she gave up her future because I’m a piece of shit. At least in her eyes. I have been and always will be an untrustworthy scum of a boyfriend, and even if I can make up for the mistakes of my past, she will never have this opportunity again.
So how could I let her stay? How could I stop her from giving that up?
She has to go. Now more than ever, she has to go.
It’s not up to me. The minute she uttered those words, the decision was made.
“Nervous?” I ask, kissing her on the temple.
She looks beautiful tonight. In a floor-length blue dress, she braided her hair and let it drape softly over her shoulder. The light fabric of the dress hangs over her curves, and I love the feel of the soft cotton under my fingers, inviting me to touch her all night long.
But I know I can’t do that. This event is important for her. Gino’s friend Valerie invited us to tonight’s gallery showcase in hopes of introducing Sunny to the director of the program as well as a few of its alumni. Although it’s really more than that. This is Sunny’s induction.
This is her chance to meet people, be seen, heard, make her presence known.
Tonight, I will be the man on her arm.
As we enter the gallery, Sunny tenses next to me. “Don’t let go, okay?” she whispers, glancing up at me.
“Promise.”
My eyes linger on her face, and for a moment, I forget that she’s only twenty. She’s grown years since I first met her back in June. Sunny has always shown maturity in her eyes, but I was just waiting for her to express the confidence that I knew she should. Now, in that bold dress with so much prospect in her future, I wonder when she will outgrow me. When she will realize that I’m not worthy...just because I’m older, have money I didn’t earn, friends who don’t care about me, a lifetime of regret and mistakes.
“You made it!” Valerie shrieks as she runs over to hug us. Valerie is one of those women who is beautiful, but too intimidating to any man who might consider flirting with her. She’s practically a goddess, and with her gold leaf headband tonight, she looks more like one than ever.
She takes Sunny’s hand and pulls her away from me. “I have so many people to introduce you to.”
As she pulls her away, Sunny’s eyes go wide and she stares down at where our fingers are linked. “Wait,” she whispers, but I pull her hand to my lips and place a kiss on the back of her knuckles.
“Go ahead. I won’t be far.” With a wink, I send her off with Valerie while I scope the crowd for Gino, who I find mingling toward the back by the drinks, naturally.
When he sees me, he greets me with a freshly mixed mule. The party usually starts at these gallery shows, but I’ve been to enough to know they don’t end here. There’s either a private afterparty or a
secret speakeasy nearby where these people get ridiculously drunk, when their real freakiness comes out. I’ve fallen down that rabbit hole a couple times, and I learned quickly, it was fun, but not quite for me.
And I definitely don’t want Sunny getting involved with that, so I’ll be keeping her close today.
Of course, once she starts the internship, I won’t have any real control over her. She’ll want to meet new people, try new things, and I should want that for her. I should encourage her to be adventurous. Sunny is not impulsive like I am. She’ll keep things modest and safe without flying off the deep end like I did at her age.
Speaking of wild things I did, a familiar face across the room comes into view and sends my heart racing.
Diana York.
My best friend’s wife. Correction: Ex-best friend's ex-wife.
Her eyes meet mine and she saunters over with a sly smile on her face. “Alexander Caldwell,” she says in a sing-song tone. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”
Diana is beautiful with her honey blonde hair and sharp cheekbones. I was always attracted to her, even for the ten years I knew her as Tyson’s wife, but I only acted on it that one time in Mexico. She reached out to me a couple times after the divorce, but I couldn’t bear to answer back. The memories were too painful, plus Diana isn’t the type of woman to cling. Her marriage to Tyson was on the fritz anyway—everyone knew that, but I still lost everything regardless.
“Hello, Diana,” I answer with a smile.
She comes in for a hug, and I wrap my hands around her shoulders.
“I heard you got yourself all settled down in the suburbs,” she whispers, touching my cheek in a loving gesture. “I was glad to hear it.”
“I’m actually here with my girlfriend,” I say, pointing toward where Sunny is crowded by a few of the art-lovers I don’t know.
Diana nods, knowingly. I assume before she says anything that she already saw plenty of pictures of us together.