The Art of Love

by Anne Whitney

  “Do you really think he could have done it?” I ask, thinking of the two brief occasions where we actually spoke to each other. He had been oddly interrogative at our dinner, and last night before he left, he’d talked about things working out for the best for all of us. But I didn’t think ‘all of us’ included me.

  “Oh god,” I sigh, lifting my hand to my forehead as a headache swells beneath the surface

  “If it was him that made the call, then he knows exactly where to look for me. I can’t stay with Fitz or either of you. What the hell am I going to do?”

  Derek and Viridian glance at one another, a shared look filled with unspoken words in the form of quirked eyebrows and sneers. They speak a language of friends that I don’t understand.

  “I don’t think you should do anything,” Viridian says, waving over the bartender for a refill on her drink. “He’s an insane man on a rampage across the country. The moment he finds you, he’s going to do something exceptionally stupid, and we’ll all be there to kick his ass if he tries to hurt you.”

  Nodding in agreement, Derek adds, “We’re your friends. Friends don’t let crazy parents ruin lives. We have plenty of experience with that, trust me.”

  I smile and let out a short laugh. The laugh turns into a slow nod of agreement and acknowledgment, even though my mind still has trouble processing that word. Friend. In my life before now, my friends have only been passing acquaintances, maybe a cousin across town when my father let me visit, or a rag doll torn to shreds by my father’s alcohol-induced anger. I can count the loving stitches in my memories, only to feel nauseous when the memory leads to darkness punctuated by a hand flying at my face as punishment for some unknown misdeed.

  The smile fades and I’m left sitting there with my fingers tied in knots on my lap. The room is happy and alive with hope, except for me, waiting with paranoia for the obvious ending - my return to Spokane in a few days, my disappearance once more from the world. You can take the girl out of the bad situation, but you can never make the bad situation disappear when Daddy Dearest is on a nationwide rampage to find and recover you.

  Derek reaches across the bar and grabs my hand from where it sits on my lap.

  “Really, you can trust us,” he says in the most sincere voice I’ve ever heard come from his chap stick-covered lips. “We’re not going to let that bastard hurt you anymore, even if we have to do unmentionable things.”

  “We’re not killing anyone,” Viridian says sharply. “We can make him wish he was dead, but we are not in some action revenge movie with guns and knives and clubs. We are civilized adults and some of us just don’t like blood very much.”

  “Oh, shut up, Ashley,” Derek says. “But no, not killing anyone. I’m sure we can do this in a more civilized way if that’s what you want. Or even if you don’t want it, we’re not letting him hurt you. End of story.”

  I smile, knowing it probably looks as fake as it feels, and tell him, “I wish things were that simple, but we all know that he won’t stop until I’m his again or dead.”

  Viridian drains her drink and lays down a twenty on the bar. “When you realize what you’re saying, you’ll realize that you’re being stupid,” she tells me. “Because no one in their right mind would ever give into thinking that living a horrible life is her fate.”

  My lips crease into a frown. “But therein lies your problem,” I tell her softly. “You’re telling me to do what you would do, but I’m not you. You don’t know what happened to me before I came here, you don’t know who I was or what I did. You don’t know my father. How can you suppose to know what I should do?”

  I stand up and walk away, only to quickly find myself in the dead end leading back to the quiet kitchen. Instead, I turn into the bathroom and run the faucet in anticipation of tears that are surely to come. Except, this time, they don’t. I stare into the mirror at the woman I’ve become. I no longer recognize the person I see besides my slanted nose and my beady, wide eyes. My hair is gone, my skin has tanned, and my cheeks slimmed.

  The door creaks open behind me before whipping quickly into the wall. Viridian stalks through, hands on hips, anger evident on her face.

  “Marina, really,” Viridian says. She locks the door behind her. “If you live your life as a scared, lonely girl after everything we’ve shown you in life, I will hunt you down, I will find you, and I will kidnap you for real this time.”

  “V, it’s not that easy,” I sigh.

  “Yes, it is.” Viridian stands by my side as we each look at our reflections. “Think of all the stuff you’ve done since you came here. Think of the guts that all took.”

  “I had to do all that stuff.”

  “No, you didn’t. You could have curled into a ball and died on the spot, or you could have ditched us all and run off somewhere else, but you didn’t. Instead, you stepped up and took on all that shit head-on. You just screamed confidence and people loved it. They weren’t staring at you because they were wondering if you were the kidnapped chick from the news. They stared because you looked awesome.”

  “That was just all the hair and makeup you did for me,” I mumbled gloomily.

  “Sweetie, that was all you. You walked a little taller and looked so much happier. It suited you.”

  I think about my weeks of anonymity and the confusing comfort they brought me. The blur of haircuts, ridiculous clothes and elaborate back stories gave me a level of freedom from my, past but they also made me fear completely losing myself to an identity forced upon me by circumstance. People looked at me in ways they’d never done before. They talked to me differently and some even flirted, an experience previously foreign to me. Then there’s Fitz... Fitz who adores me and leaves my mind scrambled.

  I don’t know how much of what I say and do these days is me and how much of it is Mary Fenton, but I do know that, sometimes, it felt good to be both invisible and noticed by the world, to be able to walk with my head held high. I want that to be my life all the time, but as Marina, not anyone else.

  “I can’t stop myself from being scared,” I admit. “It was all I knew for so long, and I know what he’s capable of. He always finds a way.”

  “And we’ll find a way to deal with it, even if we have to tear this great land apart. We’re not going to abandon you to this creep. Derek and I aren’t going anywhere and Fitz definitely isn’t, either.” Viridian’s expression slowly turns from serious to mischievous. “Speaking of Fitz...”

  “Oh, no...” I groan, although I can’t help but feel my mood lighten a little as she pulls me into a one armed hug.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how awkward was the sex?” She asks.

  “Jeez, you don’t beat around the bush much, do you?”

  “I could very easily turn that into a dirty joke, but I’m feeling gracious today, so I won’t. Come on, spill the beans. Derek and I have been waiting for you two to finally do something. Seriously, watching the tension between you guys has been insufferable.”

  “It was... I don’t know. Yeah, it hurt and it was awkward and all that, but some of it was nice. I mean, it wasn’t as good as when...” I stop myself from going any further, but, unfortunately, Viridian notices and becomes very excited.

  “As good as when what? Don’t you dare try to keep anything from me!”

  “It’s not that big a deal. Before we actually had sex, we were... in this place... somewhere, and uh... we started kissing, you know... and we...”

  I can feel the heat rush to my face as I dither and try to avoid admitting what we did out loud. I swear my friends have far too much fun in embarrassing me. Then again, I am incredibly easy to embarrass, so I can’t blame them for going to town on that front.

  “Yes?” Viridian says gleefully, determined to make this as awkward as possible for me.

  “We just... Oh, come on, can’t you figure it out for yourself from here?”

  “So, did he go down on you in public?” She asks casually.

  “No,” I mumble. “Not qui
te.”

  “Ah, so he used his hands. Nice one, Don Fitz. And that was when it was good?”

  I nod. “Yes, it was very good, thank you very much. Can I go now?”

  “No way,” she laughs, keeping a hold of my arm as I try to move away. “We need to have one of those girl talks I keep hearing so much about. Ah, the joys of having brothers for best friends. So everything was okay? He used protection?”

  “Of course he did. Why?”

  “You have to be responsible, sweetie. Fitz is usually well stocked on the condom front if memory serves, so you’ll be fine there. Did he make you breakfast in the morning? He tried that with me but ended up starting a small fire, so we went to McDonalds. I made him pay, of course. That was an awesome breakfast. I think I might have liked it more than the sex, actually.”

  “Is there really nothing else in the world we could talk about that isn’t this?”

  “Yeah, I can see why it may be awkward for a woman to talk to another woman about the man they’ve both had sex with. See, you don’t usually come across these problems with Fitz and Derek. No, wait, that’s a lie,” Viridian trails off, deep in thought, mumbling something about ‘that sexually fluid jerk’.

  “Are we done?” I interrupt her. “Because I have to get back to work.”

  “Oh yeah, sure, we’re done. Don’t want to piss off Rachel. We’ll talk later, okay? And Marina?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Please don’t give up on yourself. Or I seriously will kick your ass.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “No, you won’t try. You’ll just do it.”

  We leave the bathroom and I throw myself back into my job, keeping my head down and doing as much as possible to help the hours pass. It took a lot to convince myself to come into Rachel’s today. Even with my friends nearby and the world’s most understanding boss, I still feel terrified and convinced that all eyes are on me. I avoid all discarded newspapers with my story on them and the TV has been unplugged until further notice. The search for me has picked up dramatically, and while it would probably be a smart idea to keep tabs on the investigation while we try to sort out the next steps of our tentative plan, I just can’t force myself to look at his face. It fills me with crippling dread and the horrid memories he brings back consume me.

  Viridian is right. I can’t allow myself to be ruled by it anymore. If only it really were that easy.

  CHAPTER 28.

  An art gallery at night is a peculiar sight. The American Modern Art Museum is an odd place at the best of times, when packed to the gunnels with eager chatting visitors and streams of daylight, but after the doors are locked and then there is nothing but the various weird items considered art littered throughout the place, it’s an undeniably creepy place. The harsh lights hanging from the ceiling illuminate the sculptures and cast sharp shadows on the crisp, white walls. Fitz’s allotted performance space - a small white room with one entrance - is completely empty of such distractions. A line of black and yellow tape across the floor divides the room in half. On one side, Fitz and his co-performer will create art. On the other side, people will watch and be amazed. That’s the plan, anyway.

  I sit in the corner of the room, watching as Fitz and his fellow artist, Tracy, discuss logistics and problems they may face with their piece. Apparently, a lot of things could go wrong with public nudity and intimacy. Who knew? Fitz assures me that the pair of them will be monitored at all times by security, but that’s no guarantee of their safety. I think he likes the danger that comes with his particular style of art. Of course he would like it.

  “I’m not sure if dividing the room in half is the right way to go,” Fitz muses as he walks back and forth within the taped off space. Tracy, a tall, athletic woman with a long braid of dirty blonde hair that almost reaches her ass, nods in agreement.

  “Yeah, I was thinking that too,” she replies. “Surely the center’s the best place to do it?”

  “Exactly! Think about it,” Fitz exclaims. He scuttles around the room, wildly flailing his arms. I’m reminded of his so-called performance exercises and smile at the sight. He may be a pretentious jackass at times, but his enthusiasm can be quite adorable. “See, if we mark off a space right in the middle here, then the visitors can get the full experience. No borders! That’s how it should be done.”

  Now Tracy is as excited as Fitz. I remain baffled and a little amused.

  “How close are people going to get?” She asks.

  “As close as they can get without a security guard dragging them off kicking and screaming,” Fitz says with glee. “How much space do we take up? Come on, let’s check. Mary! Could you come here for a second?”

  I get up and try to look interested in whatever’s going on. Mary the artist would love all this, but my acting skills are slipping. They get into position on the floor, their heads against each others’ chests. It’s probably the most awkward position possible for them both to be in. I have no idea how they’re going to stay like that for eight hours a day.

  “How does this look?” Fitz asks, his face half squashed against Tracy’s chest.

  Really weird and ridiculous, and that’s with your clothes on!

  “Do you think it would look better here or against the wall?”

  “Oh, um...” I try to look deep in thought. I have no idea what looks better. Does it really matter? “I’d say... right here? Because then... people will be able to walk around you and see everything? That’s more intimate, right?”

  “Totally agree, Mary,” Tracy says, giving me the thumbs up. Good to know I’ve picked up one or two things from listening to Fitz. “How well heated is this room?”

  “No idea,” Fitz mumbles. “We’ve got body heat to keep us going, though. It’ll be fine. I’ve performed in far worse places than this.”

  “Like prison?”

  “Shut up, Tracy.”

  A cell phone buzzes from the pile of coats and bags abandoned in the corner of the room and Tracy scrambles to her feet to answer it.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” she says. “You okay? Hang on a sec.” She covers the phone with her hand. “That’s the girlfriend calling. I’ll be back in a minute. Or five.”

  She exits the room, happily chatting away, leaving Fitz lying on the floor in the same position while I stand over him. The endurance required to do what he does boggles my mind. He’s probably going to be in agony by the end of day one, and I can’t imagine what a physical wreck he’ll be after ten weeks. I’m still not sure it’s art, but it’s definitely something special.

  “Comfortable down there, Mr. Artist?” I ask, tapping my foot.

  “It’s just like sleeping in my bed. Want to join me?”

  “Eh, why not?” I shrug before crouching down to lie opposite him. The cold concrete is unforgiving against my body after a mere minute or so. I squirm, trying to get comfortable, but to no avail. I have no idea how Fitz manages to look so at ease.

  “You get used to it,” he says, reading my mind. “This is why you have to practice.”

  “Did you take classes on this in art school?”

  “Nope. I had to figure out this stuff on my own. I don’t recommend standing still in the same spot for twelve hours without some prep. It’s pretty hard.”

  “I can imagine.”

  With an acrobatic swoop, Fitz swiftly pushes me onto my back and hovers over me, his arms bordering my head.

  “Is this practice, as well?”

  “Just taking a little break.” Fitz scatters my face with light kisses before settling on my lips for a long, deep embrace. This is definitely a department where Fitz is incredibly talented and one where I’m happy to let him take over. His satisfied sighs against my lips are the only sounds I can hear. Even with Tracy somewhere down the hall, we’re essentially alone together in this immense building of curiosities, myself and the gallery’s latest exhibit.

  “You feel okay?” He asks me, mumbling against my cheek.

  “Yeah,” I reply. “I’ll b
e fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Well, I’m terrified, of course. I can’t stop thinking about what’ll happen if... you know, if the worst happens. It’s messing with my head. But I can’t let it control me. If I let that happen, then there’s no point in running because he’ll always have a hold on me.”

  He strokes my nose with his fingers, trailing back and forth. The sensation is strangely hypnotic.

  “I’m afraid,” I continue. “And it sucks. I don’t want to be like this all the time. I don’t want to run away anymore, not now that I have something to stay for.”

  “You don’t have to run if you don’t want to. The option of Florida is always there, remember that. Just say the word and Derek and I will take care of it.”

  “I can’t let you all keep doing this stuff for me. It’s too much.”

  “Stop that. You know I can deal with this all for you. I want to help you.”

  “I haven’t got the money to run off to Florida.”

  “That’s no problem. I can deal with that, as well.”

  “How? You haven’t got any...”

  Fitz’s expression answers my question. My mind flashes back to the night of his father’s visit and the check he left, scrunched up in Fitz’s hand. He never threw it away.

  “Fitz, you shouldn’t take your dad’s money for me. I owe you far too much as it is.”

  “Marina,” Fitz sighs against my lips. “You don’t owe me a thing. If anything, I owe you. You’ve changed the world for me and I can’t even begin to express what you mean to me. I don’t think you understand the hold you have on me. Without you, everything would be so much darker. You’ve made it all so clear to me. I don’t ever want to let you go. Marina, my love...”

  My love... He adores me... Oh god...

  I duck my head to the side before Fitz can kiss me again. His lips land on my ear.

  “Is everything okay?” He asks, so soft and sweet as he strokes my short hair, which makes it hurt even more. I push him gently upward so I’m able to move and sit up. Why must I ruin everything?