Page 146 of Camera Shy

“Seventy-k, a company car, and I turn a blind eye if you use the company black card every now and then. There is literally no limit on that card…you could buy Tahiti.”

I snort. “That’s tempting.” Not really, though.

I don’t want Tahiti. I want pajamas, I want thrift shopping girls’ days with a friend like Lennox. I want a cuddly man who will watch a movie with me…and then bend me over the side of the couch and spank me a little. I just want to laugh, breathe, learn, and relax. I don’t want to work sixty hours a week anymore. It’s not worth the prestige. I just want to enjoy my life and build a family.

“There’s nothing I can do to convince you?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

He grumbles. “All right, well, expect a few follow-up emails from me that will involve a little more begging.”

I laugh. “Fair enough.”

“Thanks for the call, Avery, and for the information about Frank. I’m going to go talk to our CEO and we’re going to take out the trash.”

“Good. I recently did the same. Feels good.”

“Take care. Get home safe.”

Home. “I will.”

* * *

I thought my anger and angst would fuel me through the drive, but I couldn’t swing it. I had to stop at a hotel and sleep a bit before I drove myself right off the road. Let the record show, Red Bulls are good for nothing except their tastiness.

When I pull into Dex’s driveway the next morning, I see the fish guy’s van parked on the side of the road. Great. I just want to go to sleep. I have a crying hangover. My eyes are puffy, my head hurts, my back aches from this long drive. I’m not an idiot. I don’t care how angry I am at Palmer. I just lost the longest, most significant relationship of my life.

Friendships don’t have to end. They aren’t exclusive. I was always taught to keep the old and make the new. The dynamics can change. You can go from talking daily to yearly. Sometimes friends can drift apart and then snap back together. They need each other in different ways at different stages of their lives. Love doesn’t have to fade due to distance. Friendships can endure…

Unless someone sabotages the relationship.

Palmer could’ve prevented this. She could’ve kept it in her pants. She could’ve talked to me. She could’ve found a way to love me, almost as much as she loved herself. But she didn’t. And it’s going to hurt for a very long time.

I’m going to heal…

But first, it’s going to hurt. And that’s okay.

Leaving my bag in the car and only bringing in my purse, I trudge through the front door. I have no energy to immediately unpack like I normally do. “Hey, Fish Guy,” I call out.

“Hey, Fish Lady,” he calls back with a chuckle at our little inside joke. All kidding aside, I don’t know his real name. It’s been over two months…I can’t ask now. It’s too awkward.

I see my phone sitting on the kitchen counter next to a sealed white box with a note on top:

You’re beautiful. You’re worthy.

-Finn

P.S. I promise I didn’t look.

Not right now. I want to look, but I’m a little too fragile at the moment. I can’t take any more hits right now in case I don’t like what my boudoir photographs look like. It’s not until I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and head to my phone do I see the travesty in the sink.

Cherry…

Out of water, dead in a small dish.

I squeal in shock as I drop my bottle of water.

“What the fuck?” I squelch. My reaction causes the fish guy to stop tinkering with the living room tank and head in my direction. He dodges the spilled water with his sock-covered feet and scoops up the water bottle from the ground. “When did she die?”

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