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SURPRISINGLY, I SURVIVED the rest of the dinner with Mikey, as did our friendship. If there was any casualty, it was my appetite. And that was a shame, as the restaurant was a top-rated steakhouse in the city, with one of the most renowned bartenders.
I headed outside behind Mikey, thankful I could just walk him to his car, say good-bye, and make promises to come visit that I wasn’t planning on keeping. Then I could go home, get some work done, and go to sleep.
I’d learned over the years the comfort of an empty home. My attempts to get over high school and celebrate my many accomplishments had produced some incredulously horrifying memories.
“Well, it was great seeing you, man,” I told Mikey as he pulled out his keys.
“Hey, wait. I have something for you.”
I nearly groaned. Wasn’t the wedding invitation bad enough? Naturally, I was upset I would have to go back home. Though, in all honesty, Apollo City was far from home for me these days. I’d adopted Pitt as my own, and for the most part we worked well together.
“What is it?” I asked. “It’s not a copy of Gwen’s new book, is it? Because I don’t think I finished the first one.”
Gwen had majored in theater studies in college. I knew she was teaching at a kids’ workshop in Apollo City. She also worked with Central, helping out the drama department, ACHE, when it came time for their performances. But on the side she’d written a few kids’ novels, a series called The Soldiers from the Stars, about a couple of teenagers who have to save the world from aliens and survive high school at the same time.
Yep, she’d more or less taken my life and made it into a simplistic parody. I read the first one, but I wasn’t really impressed with it. After seeing how she portrayed me, I didn’t know if I should be insulted or flattered. Given our history, I had a feeling she was, in her own way, trying to apologize to me.
It was a stupid way to apologize. It was also a stupid way to try to rebuild a friendship. But, considering my distance, and my actions, I felt, on some level, maybe that was precisely why she did it.
So, naturally, I didn’t say much about it. I decided to ignore it. If only Mikey would let me forget it completely ...
“No, Gwen’s finished the series,” Mikey said. He frowned. “I thought I gave you the complete set.”
“Oh, really? Okay then.” I shrugged. “What do you have for me? It’s not an early Christmas gift, is it? Because I didn’t get anything for—”
My voice broke off as Mikey pulled a wrapped present out of the car. It was a picture frame, and a sudden rush of awareness hit me so hard I stopped breathing.
“It’s not a Christmas present,” Mikey said. “It’s more of a late gift. Rachel heard I was coming to see you while I was going to my teacher’s conference here, so she asked if I would take it to you. She found it while she was cleaning out the house and thought you should have it.”
“Cleaning out the house?” I repeated, barely able to process what he was saying.
Mikey gently placed the frame in my hands. “Oh, yeah, I guess I didn’t tell you,” he said. “Grandpa Odd’s been officially declared dead, you know, instead of just missing, so Letty inherited all his money. Turns out he had a pretty sweet fortune at his disposal, so Rachel upgraded her business ... ”
I didn’t listen to him as he told me about Rachel moving her coffee and catering business uptown and putting her original coffeehouse, Rachel’s Café, up for sale. I was too busy telling myself that I was happy for her. And it wasn’t like I was surprised to hear about the money. Grandpa Odd—or rather, Draco—had been alive for hundreds of years on Earth after he fell from the Celestial Kingdom. I wasn’t surprised to hear he had a lot of money, and I was even happy for Rachel, who had struggled for a long time to balance her family’s checkbook.
I think the thing that made me the most upset was hearing she was selling the coffee shop. I’d taken a very small amount of comfort in knowing it was still there, even after I stopped going and left Apollo City.
Mikey continued to talk, and I continued to mostly ignore him. The weight of the painting settled into me as I held it, making me think of a time when its painter did too. My heart began to beat between my ears as the coldness of western PA whipped around me, adding to the warmth I felt as I held onto my frame. My illusions of comfort were disappearing, quickly and sharply.
As Mikey finished up his story, I forced myself to breathe again. The stress lessened, ever so slightly, and I was able to focus again.
“Sounds great,” I muttered, hoping that would allow me some wiggle room in the conversation.
“Yes, she’s very happy about that,” Mikey said. “It works out for me and Gwen, too. She insisted on catering the wedding for free, as a gift to us.”
“You can’t pay for your own caterer?” I scoffed.
“Hey, not all of us are making the big bucks as city lawyers,” Mikey said with a grin.
“Psh. I don’t make that much.” I waved it off, even as I knew I was lying. I actually probably made more than even he thought I did. My own lawyer-mother, Cheryl, was more than ecstatic when I told her about landing a job with Pharris & Dahlonega, one of the most influential international business and corporate firms in the city, and I was getting a much better starting pay than the average newbie on the block.
I was happy enough about it. My job, along with the pay and prestige that came with it, was the only real reason Cheryl accepted me staying in Pitt to work. Her own law firm in Apollo City was taking off, and she had hinted more than once she would love to have me come back and join the ranks.
I had a lot of things I had to tell myself to be happy about.
“That’s actually part of the reason we thought we’d do a Christmas wedding,” Mikey explained, as he stood there, with his car door open, as I stood there, with Raiya’s painting in my hands. “Lots of sales going on during the holiday seasons.”
“I imagine more people are able to come, too, since even I’ll be out of the office that day,” I mused aloud.
He nodded. “Exactly. Why do you think I was able to get Poncey to come? You know his business flew him out to Germany last week.”
I grinned, thinking of my sidekick companion. Just like Mikey, I was almost surprised how much of a leader he had become. “He’s got a gift for negotiation,” I remarked.
“Yeah, how else did he get his wife to marry him?” Mikey laughed. “She’s way too hot for him.”
I laughed, too, but I was relieved when an awkward silence came over us, and I could go.
“Well,” I said, “thanks for ... this.” I gestured toward the painting.
“No problem,” Mikey said. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Maybe we can do lunch, if my stupid teacher’s conference will let me escape early some, huh?”
“Maybe,” I agreed, trying to be cordial, even if it killed me by that point.
Mikey eventually left, and I waved as he drove away.
Then I shuffled to my car, stuffed the painting in the back, and drove to my own apartment, trying not to think too much about Mikey’s gift. It was too tempting to think about pulling over and just dumping it somewhere where I didn’t have to see it.
There was a small push in the back of my heart, and I was doubly tempted to do just that, out of little more than spite.
A vision of Raiya’s face, crumbled and angry, popped into my mind. I couldn’t do it after that. I didn’t even know which one of her paintings it was, but I knew she treasured them all.
It was unnerving, realizing there was a way to love her—and hurt her—from the other side of the grave.
Some time later, I found myself sitting down on my couch. I ran my palms over the surface of the gift, feeling the coarseness of the staid, brown wrapping paper. Underneath, it was smooth, with no bumps; I knew Rachel had likely had it framed.
I’d always admired Raiya’s work. Hadn’t I been doing just that, I thought, when she saw me for the first time on this side of Time?
Images of another realm, the brightness and brilliance of a cosmic sea, flashed before me.
I pushed the vision aside vehemently. “I need to get a drink,” I said aloud.
I’d had a couple of roommates while I was at college, and even some after. It helped with the rent, and it was nice to have someone else to make sure I never ended up lying in a ditch somewhere, drunk or otherwise.
But my last roommates, a pair of brothers, Ravi and Dinesh, had moved out when they’d been offered jobs down in D. C. We still kept in touch, and they still called me for legal insight more often than they’d ever admit to their bosses.
But for the most part, I was alone, and in many ways, I was even less than alone.
After getting a full glass of wine in hand, I finally managed to pull off the paper.
“Huh.” I frowned. It wasn’t the one I was expecting.
Raiya had done several paintings for Rachel’s Café, and I was full expecting something with a phoenix or a dragon on it, for me or Elysian; I also thought it easily could’ve been a van Gogh picture. Where else would someone like Raiya get “Starry Knight” as her superhero name?
Instead, the picture before me was a weird portrayal of a something like a supernova; it wasn’t realistic at all, but pictured more like a stained glass window. “What is it?” I asked aloud, not expecting an answer.
My memory decided to help me out, much to my displeasure.
“A neo-expressionist supernova,” she said.
It was the last picture I’d seen her work on, the one she’d been working on the week before ...
Before ...
Geez, I can’t even think the words.
“Who does this?!” I yelled. “Who can’t get over someone who died over seven years ago?!”
It was insane. Insane. It was stupid, too. There was nothing I could do about her. Nothing! I had to move on, and I kept trying, and trying, and meanwhile all the rest of the universe seemed content to pull me back into a vicious cycle of hating myself, hating her, and hating my fate.
“Why are you doing this to me, Adonaias?” I moaned. My head fell into my hands. “Haven’t you made me suffer enough? Isn’t it enough that she’s dead? No, of course not. You have to keep me unsatisfied and humiliated and alone, too, always questioning my sanity or my stupidity, don’t you?”
I glared out my window, searching for the face of the Prince of Stars, even if I hated him.
He didn’t seem to stop anyone else from suffering. There was no reason to think I was any exception. I thought about the different things I’d done over the years to forget everything. The girls, the prescriptions, the addictions; the lies, the half-truths, the “my truths.” Exercise, meditation, consultations, depression. Throwing everything I had into my job, my degree, and my friends’ lives. All to find some semblance of one of my own, where it did not touch anything outside of the physical world.
All for naught.
Certainly, nothing stopped the flood of memories that poured out from just seeing one of her paintings.
“Augh!” I screamed as I threw the painting away from me. “I can’t take it anymore!”
The trinkle of broken glass seemed to break through my heart.
I looked over at it, only to see a large web of broken lines cutting through the heart of the painting. It seemed I felt its pain as my own.
I drew in a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
Very carefully, I propped the painting up against the wall by my door. I decided I didn’t want to be alone, here, tonight.
I grabbed my keys and headed out, headed for any other place other than where I was.
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