Work Of Art: The Unveiling Part 13

"Why are you here doing this?" I ask, before was.h.i.+ng down the pills.

"Because I care about you." He sits on the other half of the bed and pulls me closer. My head ends up against his chest, and he gently runs his fingers through my hair over and over. There's something about the way it feels that tears me up inside, and when it hits me, I cry even harder.

"What, Ava?" His touch becomes even more gentle and soothing.

"I miss my mom. She used to do this when I was sad. I miss her so much, Max."

"I'm sorry," he whispers as he continues to stroke my head. "I'm so sorry."

I continue to cry. When I'm completely exhausted and have depleted my supply of tears, I finally taper off.

"Do you want me to stay here tonight? You should try to sleep."

Part of me desperately wants him to, remembering how it felt when he spooned me in Malibu after the robbery. But the other part, the girl with the closed heart, knows I need to be alone so I can sort through the emotional aftermath of the night.

"I think I need to be alone."

"Are you sure?"

I nod. He slowly s.h.i.+fts me off his chest and carefully gets up before peeling back the bedding. "Come on, get under the covers," he says and pats the bed.

I scoot over and settle in, watching him as he tucks the covers around me. There's such sadness in his eyes, and I feel even worse knowing that I'm responsible for his melancholy mood. He leans down and kisses my forehead before brus.h.i.+ng his fingertips across my cheek. "Goodnight, angel. Try to sleep. I'll call you tomorrow to check on you, okay?"

The tears already pool in my eyes. "Thanks, Max. You really are wonderful, you know."

He gives me a tender smile and walks quietly out of my room, closing my door behind him. I feel a surge of panic. For this past hour, Max has been my anchor holding me at sh.o.r.e, but now that he's gone, I'm untethered with nothing but the stormy sea in front of me. I curl tightly into my sheets to occupy the smallest possible amount of s.p.a.ce before I hurl myself into the darkness.

I don't resurface for days.

I have the vague sensation of someone moving around my room. Go away, I hiss silently and burrow further into my blankets. The blinds s.h.i.+ft, making the room brighter. No! Darker not brighter. I'm angry with my intruder. When my window opens, the resulting fresh air wakes me up a bit more.

"Ava...Ava, wake up."

Riley.

"What are you doing?" I groan. "Leave me alone."

"Well, actually, I was checking to make sure you're still alive. I've never seen you sleep this late before."

"What time is it?"

"Two in the afternoon. Are you sick or something?"

"Sick in the head. You can leave now. I'm going to sleep some more." I roll away from her.

"Ava, you need to get up. Come on. I'm going to make you something to eat."

"I'm not hungry," I grumble.

She walks out of the room, but comes back about ten minutes later, carrying a tray with b.u.t.tered toast, a container of yogurt, and a mug of herbal tea.

"Come on, sit up," she demands.

I do as I'm told and she lays the tray in my lap. Initially, I plan to ignore the spread before me...I have no appet.i.te. But then I realize, the sooner I eat something, the sooner she'll leave me alone. I bite into a corner of the flavorless toast. It could be cardboard for all I care.

"What exactly happened when you guys disappeared last night? I figured from the rush Max was in that it wasn't good," she asks, digging for details.

"Hmm. I had a nice bonding session with Jonathan's wife."

"Oh G.o.d, no."

"Oh yeah. I guess, considering everything, she was quite civil. Well, except for the part where she threatened to ruin my career."

Riley's expression drops. "No," she says with a tight voice.

"Yes, I guess she's had a lot of practice at this. f.u.c.king around outside his marriage is the dirtbag's hobby, so I wasn't the first floozy she's had to straighten out. Actually, what was the word she used? Oh yeah...young innocents...evidently that's the type Jonathan usually goes for."

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

"The humiliation was unbelievable. She knew all about Spago and Santa Barbara. She probably has pictures of us on that patio with my legs wrapped around his face. I just wanted to die. I was so embarra.s.sed and disgusted with myself when she threw it all back in my face."

"Why would you be disgusted with yourself? It's not your fault he lied. You didn't know he was married."

"I didn't know he was married...but I should've realized something was wrong. Did I really need attention so badly that I'd offer myself on a silver platter to a wolf? I'm pathetic."

"Oh, Ava, please don't say that. Don't let him do this to you." She pauses and then tilts her head. "So, Max brought you home?"

"Oh, that was just the beginning of the fun. Jonathan paid me a visit while Max was looking for you."

"What did the b.a.s.t.a.r.d want?"

"He was spewing some c.r.a.p like 'it's not what it seems' and 'you have to understand how I feel about you'...blah, blah, blah. He actually tried to convince me to stay with him while his wife was probably out there bidding on a romantic weekend for them at the auction. I wanted to vomit all over him."

"No f.u.c.king way."

"I tried to get away from him, and the a.s.shole grabbed me hard. Max charged in and ripped Jonathan off me, threw him against the wall, and started to choke him. I swear, if I hadn't stopped him, I think Max would've killed him. It was like I was in a bad movie."

"That's so d.a.m.ned hot."

"Well, at the time, it was pretty d.a.m.ned frightening. I've never seen such a display of testosterone up close. But as soon as I got Max to focus back on me, he rushed me out of the house and got me home."

"Max...our hero!"

"He was definitely my hero last night. I don't know what I would've done without him. And he was really sweet trying to take care of me when we got back here. He let me get drunk and rant and cry, and then he rubbed my head."

"He really cares about you."

"Well, I can't imagine why, especially after last night. Today, he's probably relieved we didn't hook up."

"Don't say that, Ava. I probably shouldn't say this...especially now, but Dylan thinks Max is in love with you."

I see through Riley's thinly-veiled attempt to get me to focus on anything but Jonathan.

"Dylan has love on the brain. He's looking at the world through the rose-tinted gla.s.ses of your insatiable s.e.xual appet.i.te."

"So, it's the s.e.x, that's lovely, thank you. Are you going to be bitter and b.i.t.c.hy now that you're a scorned woman and push away everyone around you?"

"That's the plan."

"Okay then, I'll leave you to it. I'll give you a day to wallow, and then you're going to snap out of it. Tomorrow will be a new day, my friend."

She moves the mug of tea to my nightstand and picks up the tray with the yogurt and toast remnants.

"Meanwhile, your phone is ringing every five minutes and making me crazy. Can you do something about it please?"

I slowly get out of bed and wander into the living room where I'd thrown down my evening bag. I dig my phone out and shut it off without even checking it. Then I crawl back in bed. I'm surprise how quickly sleep takes me.

Sometime in the evening, Riley wakes me up again to check on me and asks if I'll join her and Dylan for a movie. I just stare until she leaves the room. I wonder if I've freaked her out, although I don't intend to be a b.i.t.c.h, especially to her. I vow to make an extra effort to be nice when I see her next. I watch the pattern of light and shadows on my wall for a while until my eyes get heavy again.

While I lie there willing myself back to sleep, the doorbell rings. I hold still as a mouse and listen. Sure enough, the bell rings again. f.u.c.k, f.u.c.k, f.u.c.k. There's absolutely no one I want to see. The bell keeps ringing at increasingly faster intervals. Angry, I ease out of bed and tiptoe into the hallway. A moment later, someone bangs on the door.

"Ava, I have to talk to you. I've called you all day long, and you won't answer, d.a.m.n it. I know you're in there. I saw your light on before Riley left, and you didn't go with her." Jonathan's m.u.f.fled voice paralyzes me.

Is he f.u.c.king stalking me? How long has he been out there? A chill shoots up my spine. Where's a G.o.dd.a.m.ned flamethrower when you need one?

I almost yell, "Hey, Jonathan, got your wife with you?" But I decide against it. I don't want to engage him in any way.

"Ava, please baby, you have got to let me explain. We can work this out."

The yogurt-toast combination from earlier churns in my stomach. We're not working out anything, motherf.u.c.ker.

I tiptoe back to my bedroom, slip my ear buds in and crank up my iPod to obliterate his presence. I crawl back in bed.

Sometime later, as I drift out of my haze, I hear Riley's voice nearby. She sounds agitated. I wonder what time it is and how long she's been home from the movies. I get up, and as I open my door, her phone rings, so I eavesdrop.

"Hey, Max."

"No, it's okay...I don't mind. Yeah, she turned it off early this afternoon."

My heart pounds, knowing Max is checking up on me. For a moment, I remember how it felt when he held and soothed me, but then I focus back on Riley's words.

"Did you talk to Dylan?"

"Well, I think he slipped the note under the front door after we'd left for the movies. I can't believe he had the nerve to come here. What a f.u.c.king creep. Of course she didn't answer the door. Serves him right; he's done a real number on her."

"Yeah, I still can't believe no one knew. If I ever see him, I'm giving him a piece of my mind. Dylan wanted to beat the c.r.a.p out of him, but we all need to be careful, considering what he could do to Ava's career."

"She stayed in bed all day, and she's barely eating. She's really messed up...Yeah, she hates his guts now, but she's blaming herself. I just don't get it. I've never seen her like this."

"Okay, why don't we talk tomorrow before you try to come over? She may not want anyone to see her like this, so let's see how she's doing. Yeah, I'll tell her you called."

"Oh, and Max, she told me what you did...how you defended and helped her. I just want to say thank you for that."

"Okay, goodnight."

I wait a minute before I wander into the living room.

"Hey, Riley."

"Ava! You startled me." She looks me over carefully. "Are you okay?"

"Not really okay, but I'm awake at least. How was the movie?"

She tells me about the historical romance she dragged Dylan to. He actually didn't mind it as much as he thought he would.

I listen intently, because it feels good to think about someone else's world for a change. I ask her what's been happening at work.

Riley fills me in on the big holiday presentation they're preparing the following week, which will force her to put in a lot of overtime. The design department works at least eight months ahead of the release date, so they're always developing product in the wrong season. It must be weird thinking about Christmas ornaments in March or Halloween costumes in January, but that's the reality of manufacturing. I curl up on the couch and listen carefully, still grateful to be out of my head for a while.

When she finally winds down to go to bed, I notice how awake I actually am. I slept on and off for a crazy amount of hours, and now I'm going to pay the price for it. I decide to watch a movie, but the t.i.tles on the bookshelf are all about relations.h.i.+ps. Where are the d.a.m.ned comedies when you need them?

I settle on Annie Hall, Woody Allen's '70s cla.s.sic about a couple falling in and out of love. At least there are a lot of laughs in this film, and I love Diane Keaton's character. I remember when I first saw it, I used her phrase, la de dah, la de dah for weeks. Now that my life is so complicated, I don't think I'll be using that phrase anytime soon.

I've mastered the fine art of being a drama queen, and my self-loathing spreads through me like a virus. I may not be able to actually live on an island, but there's nothing to stop me from creating an island for my heart and mind to play castaway on. In this dark moment, my survival depends on it.

Chapter Ten / Ragged Edges.

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.

~ Scott Adams Around eight the next morning, I wander into the kitchen and stand in front of the sink, forgetting why I'm there. My edges are ragged, and I'm disoriented from watching four movies in a row and staying up all night. The sky outside is asphalt gray and as flat as my mood.

There's no way I can make it through a day of work, so I call Adam's voicemail and tell him that I need a sick day. I wonder if there's a way to arrange my life so that all I do is sleep and watch movies, since those are the two events that spare me from feeling much of anything. This time, when I crawl back in bed, I'm finally able to sleep again.

Something flops down on the edge of my bed and startles me awake.

"This isn't going to cut it! Come on, Ava baby, playtime is over. Time to get out of the f.u.c.king bed and face the world."

Who let Jess in for G.o.d's sake? This is more than I can take.

"Did you break in?" I ask, highly irritated.