by K. M. Scott
Grabbing the TV remote from the coffee table in front of me, I turn it on and immediately the Netflix screen appears and tells the story of what I’d been doing the last time I sat there in front of that screen. All of Kristina’s films are there, watched but ready for me to see them again.
I choose the remake of The Misfits and sit back to wait for her to appear in front of me. My palms begins to sweat and my heart slams against my chest as each minute ticks by, and then there she is in front of me again, those beautiful cornflower blue eyes looking out as if she sees me watching her.
When she smiles, my heart fills with joy at the memory of the two of us alone and her smiling like that for me. But where is she now? I need to find her. She belongs in my arms, smiling up at me as I hold her. I need to see her look at me with those soft blue eyes and tell me she loves me.
I believe she’s still alive. She has to be.
I can find nothing online that says anything about what happened to her. No mention of her death. No mention of any accident at all. Did I just imagine it all in a state of shock as I sat there at the bottom of that embankment after the accident? But if that’s the case, why didn’t she come to see me even once while I was in the hospital all those weeks and then the three months of rehab for my arm?
I call Albert and get him moving on the only thing that matters to me. Finding Kristina. “Albert, I need you to contact Kristina Richards’s agent, publicist, manager and anyone else who might know where she is. I have to find out.”
“Okay, Ian. I can do that. You feeling okay?”
Albert’s newfound interest in how I feel seems genuine, but I don’t want to discuss my physical or mental well-being with him now. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just need you to find out where she is.”
“Okay. Give me some time and I’ll see what I can find out.”
I pull my laptop out sometime after the first twenty-four hour Kristina Richards film marathon and attempt to type. The nerve damage in my left hand makes it impossible. The fingers on that hand just sit on the keyboard, useless now. I have all these ideas for the Silk and Steel story ready to pour out through my fingers, but with only working hand, I can barely write a page in two hours. Desperate to get the words out of my head, I find a pen and paper and write like I’ve never written before in my life. My mind works at a fevered pace, so at least I can say something good came from all of this misery.
Afterward, I’m exhausted and for two days, I sit and stare at the TV as I watch every film of hers and periodically answer Sheila’s phone calls meant to calm her fears and ensure I’m not doing anything terrible to myself. But it’s Albert’s phone call I wait for.
“Ian, how are you feeling? Are you getting back to writing yet?” Sheila asks in that angelic voice of hers that makes the three times daily calls to check up on me not so bad.
“Maybe, but don’t worry. I’m not doing anything illegal or harmful to myself,” I say with a chuckle, doing my best to make her feel better about her task.
“Is there anything you need?”
I hesitate for a moment, but then answer, “No, I’m fine, Sheila.” I’m anything but fine, but as soon as I hear from Albert, I’ll be better.
At least I hope so.
The phone is silent for a long moment, and then she says, “I’m worried about you, Ian. I’ve never heard you sound so sad.”
“I’m not back to the heroin, Sheila. I swear.”
Sheila stays silent again and then says, “I’m so happy to hear that, Ian. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay for you. You have a second chance, and now that you’re back home, I’m going to be working overtime to make sure I get you the deal you deserve for Silk and get that film made, if possible.”
Her mention of Silk makes my breath catch in my chest. The story of my love for Kristina. Our story.
I continue watching Kristina’s films and wonder if I’m slowly losing my mind. All of this seems so familiar, yet it’s been months. Thank God for Netflix, my old friend. It’s the only way I can keep her in my life for now until Albert finds out where she is.
My phone rings, startling me out of my thoughts of just how miserable I truly am, and I see it’s Albert calling back.
“Ian, I talked to all her people. They won’t tell me where she is, but I have a friend I asked about her and he says he’s heard she’s left the city to live upstate.”
“Really? Where?” I want to ask with who, but I can’t bring myself to say the words.
“I don’t know yet, but I asked him to find out. I’ll let you know the minute I find out.”
I return to my miserable existence, a sad loop of watching her films and then writing the continuation of our story. The words come slower now as I sink into what very well might be depression. Nothing about my life feels like it’s a second chance. I’m a one-armed author who’s lost his muse. I don’t know where she is or even if she’s okay.
All I know is that this doesn’t feel like anything I can handle.
Nearly forty minutes later, Albert calls back with the information I’ve been waiting for. “She’s at a friend’s house in Dutchess County. Some woman named Sienna Rollins. Do you know the name?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. Who is she?” I ask, feeling like I do know the name but not sure if too much Netflix has finally totally fucked up my head.
“She’s an actress. All I know about her is she divorced some billionaire businessman a couple years ago and made out like a bandit. Other than that, I only have the address of her house upstate.”
He gives it to me and I write it down on a scrap of paper I immediately slip into my pocket. The address is tattooed onto my brain. It’s where Kristina is, so that’s where I need to be.
I drive up to Sienna Rollins’ multi-million dollar property in Verbank, New York and can’t help but be impressed. I may never have heard of her name or seen any of her films, but she’s clearly done well for herself. Not that I care about any of that.
All I care about is finding Kristina.
A middle-aged woman in a grey and white maid’s uniform answers the door and after I give her my name, she ushers me into an enormous two story white foyer, instructing me to wait until she gets Mrs. Rollins. As I stand there, my stomach feels like someone’s twisting it into knots as question after question forms in my mind. Why didn’t Kristina tell me where she was all this time? Not one phone call in months doesn’t sound like her. She’s alive, but did something happen to change her feelings for me? Or did she think I died?
A tall, shapely woman with long blond hair appears in front of me in jeans and a sweatshirt as I wonder what happened to Kristina and gives me a smile that I sense is forced. A beautiful woman, she seems out of place there surrounded by all this obvious wealth.
“Mr. Anwell, I’m Sienna Rollins. What can I do for you?”
“Please call me Ian. I’m here to see Kristina. I know she’s here, and I need to speak to her.”
Sienna’s eyes open wide, like she’s surprised at what I’ve just said, and for a moment that forced smile fades a little. It reappears just seconds later, though, as she says, “Ian, it’s very nice to meet you. I’ll have to see if Kristina wants any visitors.”
“Why is she here? It’s been nearly five months since the accident. Does she know I’m okay? Why didn’t she try to see me?”
Reaching out, Sienna takes my hand and gives it a sympathetic squeeze. “I’m probably not the right person to ask. I’ll find out if Kristina can see you.”
She leaves me standing there in that white foyer as my stomach continues to churn over all those questions I have. All I want is to see the woman I love and who loves me. If Sienna knows Kristina at all, she knows about me. Why wouldn’t she immediately take me to see her?
I hear footsteps and see Sienna walking toward me from down a long hallway. I can tell by the look on her face that the answer is no, that I can’t see Kristina. But why?
“Kristina can’t see you today, Ian. Maybe another
day. Let me take your number and she can call you.”
“No. I want answers and I want them now. Why is she here and not back at her apartment in the city? Why wouldn’t she want to see me? Why in all the time I was in the hospital didn’t she even try to visit me or find out if I was okay? What’s going on here?”
“I don’t want to upset you, Ian. I’m really not trying to do that. I just need you to understand now isn’t a good time.”
“Why? What’s going on with her? We left my cabin that morning happily in love and ready to move in together, and now you tell me she doesn’t want to see me. I want to know why.”
Sienna looks away and I consider pushing past her to find Kristina on my own, but then she turns back and says, “Come with me. Let me explain.”
Leading me into an opulently decorated living room at the front of the house, she extends her arm to offer me a seat on a large white sofa. We sit down next to one another, and I wait for her to begin explaining what the hell is going on. After what seems like an eternity, she takes a deep breath and begins speaking.
“I’m sorry things have turned out so badly for you two. Kristina loved you. I want you to know that. That day of the accident, she went over that embankment too, ending up at the bottom of that ravine with you. Thankfully, her injuries weren’t life threatening, but that didn’t mean they weren’t serious. She went through the windshield, Ian, so her injuries occurred mostly on her face.”
She stops talking and a frown settles into her mouth. I know what the problem is now. “Sienna, I don’t care what she looks like. I love her. Her outside doesn’t matter to me.”
“It matters to her, Ian. She was an actress on the verge of hitting it big, and now she feels like she’s lost everything in that part of her life. I know it’s only been a short time and with plastic surgery she can someday be like she was before, but she doesn’t believe that. She sees herself as that person who she sees in the mirror every day. The cuts have healed, but the scars remain.”
“I understand, but we can get past that. All I need is some time with her.”
“It’s more than that. She blames herself for the accident. She knows what happened to you. I found out and told her, and she was horrified. She thinks she’s ruined your life.”
I look down at my left arm and the useless hand that dangles at the end of it before I look back at Sienna. “It wasn’t her fault. She did nothing to cause that accident. Just let me see her and I can explain all that to her. My life isn’t ruined. I’m still here, just with one less hand I can use.”
“Her emotional injuries are why she doesn’t want to see you, Ian. She’s just not ready, I guess. I don’t know when she’s going to be ready either. Most days she just sits in her room and reads her books. Your books.”
“I need to see her, Sienna. I’m not leaving until I get to see her.”
She shakes her head and frowns. “I can’t do that, Ian. She’s not ready.”
The light coming through the window seems so bright today, and I close the curtains to block some of it out. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window and cringe, hating the monster that looks back at me. That woman isn’t Kristina Richards. She can’t be.
A part of me wants to run out to stop Sienna from sending Ian away. After all these months of being without him, just knowing he’s so close makes me need him as much as ever, but I can’t. Not looking like this.
I was his muse, the woman he became obsessed with after seeing my movies. The woman whose looks inspired him to write. How can I face him now looking like this? Who would want a damaged muse?
My fingertips trace the scars from my right eye and down my cheek to my jawline. Raised pink lines that make me look like a hideous stranger even to myself. How could I expect him to ever look at me the same way? I don’t look like the person he fell in love with anymore.
I sit down in my chair again and hold his book to my heart, the only piece of him I have left now. Opening the cover, I turn the page to where he signed his name to his biggest fan and trace my fingertip over the sharp lines of his signature.
Does he even write now after the accident? The day Sienna finally told me about his injury flashes through my mind, as does the pain of knowing how much his loss means to him. If only I hadn’t distracted him as we drove down that snowy mountain road. If only that truck hadn’t come around the corner so wide. If only we’d stayed at the cabin another day or another hour. If only we’d stayed in bed for just a few minutes more, none of this would have happened.
As always, everything about us revolves around if onlys.
I wanted to tell Sienna nothing would make me happier than to see Ian again, but how can face him like this? It’s better this way. He’ll find another muse who will inspire him to write again.
My chest aches at the idea of another woman being that for him. Like my heart wants to believe we can be like we were again, but one glance at my reflection in the window and my brain tells my heart the awful truth.
The sound of his voice hits me like a bolt of lightning, and I listen as he demands to see me, even as Sienna tells him it’s not possible. Then I hear footsteps coming down the hallway, and panic tears through me. He’s coming to see me, but he can’t. I can’t see him like this!
Just as I reach out to lock the door, it opens and there he is. I cover my face with my hands and turn away from him, unable to even look him in the eye. “Go away, Ian. You shouldn’t be here. Please go.”
“No. I came here to see you, and I’m not leaving until you talk to me. I don’t care if your friend calls the police and they have to drag me out of here. I need to know the answers to my questions.”
“Please go. I don’t have the answers you want.”
I hear him walk toward me, and then his hand touches my shoulder and it’s like we’ve never been apart. All the feelings I’ve tried so hard to push down deep inside so he can move on rush back to the surface, making it impossible to hold back the tears.
“I’m not going anywhere. I know about what happened to you, and it doesn’t matter what you look like. I’m not the same after the accident either. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters more than I love you, Kristina.”
“It does matter, Ian. Please just leave me here to live my life hidden away.”
He wraps his arm around me and kisses the top of my head. “You don’t have to hide. Come home with me like we planned at the cabin and be my muse again.”
I can’t control my sobs as they wash over me at the thought of being his muse once more. As Ian holds me to him, I whisper the truth. “I can never be your muse again. The accident made sure of that. Please just leave and let me be.”
“You don’t want that. I can’t believe you don’t love me anymore, Kristina. No matter what’s happened, you’re still my muse just like I’m still a writer, even though I only have one working hand. Nothing’s changed.”
Pulling away from him, I throw myself on the bed and hide my face in the pillow so he can’t see just how wrong he is. Everything’s changed. My looks are gone, just like the use of his hand, because of me. How he could want to see me again I can’t understand, but even if he’s willing to forgive me, it doesn’t matter.
What we were can never be again.
I feel his hand caressing my back, and my body reacts like it always has to his touch. I wish I could face him so he could take me in his arms and hold me until all the bad goes away. I’ve missed him so much.
“Kristina, please listen to me. I know what happened to you, but I don’t love you because of your outside. I love the woman you are on the inside. The way you make me a better man than I’ve ever been before. Your strength when I didn’t have any. You stuck around when I needed you. Now I’m here when you need me.”
“It’s not the same, Ian. I’m not the same. Everything I was is gone. That Kristina Richards died in that accident.”
“Then we have a chance to start over again. We wanted to take that chance that day. Do you remember?
We were going to go back to the city and start our life together. We can still do that.”
I shake my head in the pillow. “No, we can’t. I can’t be your muse anymore.”
Ian lies down next to me and presses his lips to my ear to whisper, “Then don’t be. I don’t need you to be my muse. I need you to be the woman I love. Please look at me. Trust me, Kristina.”
“No. I can’t. I’m not that person anymore.”
“And I’m not the man you fell in love with either. I’m an author who has to handwrite his books now, but I still love you the same way I did before.”
Ian’s mention of his injured arm only makes me cry more. I did that. I caused him to lose the ability to use his arm. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I swear, Ian. I’m so sorry.”
His hand brushes the hair from the good side of my face, and he gently kisses me on my cheek. “You didn’t do this to me. This happened because a truck made a wide turn and caused an accident. No one meant for any of this to happen. It just happened. But we can get past this. If you can overlook my changes, I know I can see past yours. We aren’t an arm or a few scars. Tell me you know we’re more than that. Tell me you remember what we were and can be again if you just give us a chance.”
“No. I can’t. Everything I was is gone now. I can’t bear the idea of seeing what I was in your eyes when you look at me.”
He’s silent for so long even as he stays there next to me that I know what I feared is true. I don’t blame him. He fell in love with a woman who had beauty, and now that she doesn’t, he shouldn’t have to stay when he doesn’t want to.
“I’m sorry, Kristina. I’m sorry for making you think that I fell in love with you because of how you look. I never meant to let you think that’s all you were to me.”
“I was your muse, Ian. Now what am I? You don’t have to say you love me because you feel bad. You never signed on to be with a woman who looks like this.”