Work Of Art: The Unveiling Part 22

"No, you can't leave!" he howls. "You can't leave me, Ava."

"What's wrong with you? Why are you treating me like this?" I turn around and push him away.

His eyes bug out and his mouth falls open. "Because I f.u.c.king love you, and I can't lose you. It makes me crazy, knowing someone like Nick is after you."

He looms over me, and the heat from his fury sears my skin. His eyes are narrow slits, and he's clenching his teeth as his chest heaves. "I lost you once; I can't go through it again."

He's freaking me out, but I'm determined to stay strong. I look up into his eyes with a hard gaze. "I have no interest in Nick, nor he in me. This is ridiculous. If this is what our relationship is going to be like, Max, I'm going to have to leave. I mean it."

"No!" he yells, and the desperate look in his eyes haunts me.

"Yes."

I gasp as he leans in, grabs my shoulders and presses his forehead against mine.

"f.u.c.k no, Ava."

"d.a.m.n you, Max." I push him away again. "I'm furious...Are you trying to make me hate you?"

"Go ahead and hate me...as long as you don't leave me, Ava. d.a.m.n it all. I f.u.c.king need you."

Some of the black charcoal has rubbed off on my skin and the marks shock me. "This is so screwed up..." The anger has intensified every nerve ending in my body until I'm humming like a loose wire about to crackle and pop.

I push past him and step back into the room. Taking several deep breaths to calm my racing mind, I finally find my voice again.

"I need some time alone to think this out, Max. So either I leave or you leave. Which is it going to be?"

He stares at me, gasping with a ragged breath, and I make the mistake of looking into his eyes. They are the most brilliant steel gray, full of desperation, furor, and longing.

"Ava," he begs as he reaches for me.

I know he can't stand the idea of me leaving, but I can't think with him falling apart around me.

"You or me?" I demand.

He looks between the door and me. With a look of defeat, he storms outside.

I watch him stride away until the door swings shut. The click of the automatic lock rips through me like a shot, and I stumble into the bedroom as my eyes fill with tears. I grab the box of tissue before falling onto the bed. I can't even fathom how quickly things crumbled between us, and I feel hopeless. How could we be on top of the world this morning and sink so low a few hours later? It's more than I can comprehend.

I cling to a pillow, crying until I'm hollow inside. Drained, I lie in a daze for what feels like hours, when in reality, it's just over an hour later when I hear Max let himself back in the room. He sets his things down on the living room table and washes his hands in the bathroom. A minute later, the edge of the bed sinks down. I can smell his fear in the air. There's a long silence before he speaks.

"I'm sorry, Ava...I'm sorry."

I can't bear the anguish in his voice, and I find new tears to cry. We've broken each other so quickly.

"You know I can't do this," I say with a shaky breath.

"I know," he admits with an anguished tone.

"I'm still furious, Max. I love you, but if you can't trust me, we can't be together."

He hesitates and sighs. "This is how dark I get, and I hate it. When I saw you with him, I came completely unglued. Logic went right out the window."

"You scared me. We can't be like this."

"I know," he whispers.

He's much calmer and appears rational, and when he asks me if he can lie down next to me, I agree.

He gets on the bed and lies still for several minutes, the room silent other than my crying and his measured breathing. Waves of hopelessness, tempered by an instinct to stay and work on things, run through me, and I finally accept that what we have together is more than I can walk away from.

I clear my throat. "What are we going to do?"

His voice is quiet but sure. "I have to fix this. It's killing me that I hurt you and your faith in us."

He gently lays his hand on my shoulder. "I want to be better for you. When I got back from the restaurant, I tried to call my therapist, but her service said she couldn't call me back until three. I finally talked to her after you made me leave."

I have a flicker of hope that comes from him asking for help without my prompting. He knew he was in serious trouble.

"I'm relieved you called her. You know I can't be the one to help you with this stuff. Some of it is over my head, and when it affects me-much like what happened today-I get too upset to think straight."

"I know." He sounds desperately unhappy.

I pull the pillow against me and turn to face him. He's unsuccessfully fighting back a tear of what I a.s.sume to be frustration from how tightly his fists are clenched. I stroke his cheek, capturing his tear on my fingertips.

"I'm not Chloe, Max. I've lived enough life to know our relationship means everything to me. And when I told you I loved you, it means that I'll always be honest about our relationship, because it's the only way it'll work."

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."

Part of me is heartbroken. 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 s.p.a.ce 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 pa.s.sion 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, pa.s.sionately 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 s.p.a.ce 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 and 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. "f.u.c.k, 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 cla.s.sic 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 decor, but with a table full of compet.i.tive 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 cla.s.sic "September" with Jess, and they're d.a.m.n 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 gla.s.s. 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 get 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 f.u.c.k 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 f.u.c.king 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."