Page 31 of White Rabbit

No, I didn't forget. I never forget who I’m supposed to be.

He tuts, his disapproval clear. “Don’t fuck this up.”

The lights dim as the auction begins, and I sit there in the darkness wondering how my life ended up like this. Chad was missing, and I was worried, but I was also relieved.

It felt like I could breathe easier, like I’d loosened one of the ropes binding me in whatever trap this was. Was that fucked up? My father’s expectations were still there, weighing heavily on me, but I took some small satisfaction in the piece I’d submitted for tonight's auction.

As it’s announced, and brought on stage, I try to look at it from a viewer's perspective. It had been an unusual piece when it was finished, all shades of black and gray. If you looked closely, you could just make out the side profile of a man, swallowed by shadows. Hints of gold leaf glint on the canvas, grubby and jagged. Huge splashes of bold ruby and dull crimson bring the whole thing to life. It was Elijah and all the seductive danger he exuded. The bloodshed and tortured shadows. The violence and the desire. He was all I could paint whenever I stepped near my easel.

It felt good to spite my father, and all his warnings to stay away. That smug feeling only grew as a bidding war broke out over the canvas, which was originally only expected to bring in around $25,000 dollars, but clearly, people had more money than sense. Plus, it was for a good cause.

I glance across at my new friend, and she’s sitting with a handsome blond man who must be her husband. Something sparks in the back of my mind and I’m sure I’ve seen him in the media recently. He places a tender kiss on her forehead as she raises her paddle to bid $45,000 dollars on my art.

My eyes widen and to hide my grin, I reach for my champagne flute. The bids keep creeping higher until another party at their table raises their paddle and bids $75,000. I’m an unknown. My art is not worth that much money and yet as Warren shouts ‘sold!’ it apparently is.

I try to get a better look at the purchaser, but all I can make out is long dark green hair and some sort of gothic lace outfit as my blonde friend laughs and pulls them into a hug.

“Well, would you look at that,” my father says, his voice low as he takes a sip of his whiskey. “It was not a complete waste sending you to college.”

A few more barbed comments, three courses and a bottle and a half of champagne later, I feel like I’m seconds away from losing control of my emotions.

Chad was missing. He’d shut me out without a word. Four years was worth not even a call to him. My mother was dead. She was supposed to be here. This was her thing. Some crazy person had paid a ridiculous amount of money for my art. Creed was going to be in my art class. Andrew was absent. And my father…he just wouldn’t stop jabbing at me with his comments. Jab. Jab. Jab.

Fuck, I needed some fresh air.

The venue for this evening is a gorgeous hotel down in the center of Newtown. The ballroom is based on the ground floor, and there’s a patio area out to the left with plenty of seating. Following a few steps down, I end up on a grassy area where there are wide sun loungers laid out near the outdoor pool.

With my almost empty bottle, I lay down on the partially upright sun lounge and look up at the night sky. It’s too bright to see the stars, but I take some comfort from knowing they’re there.

I have been laying here for no more than five minutes before a familiar voice says, “You looked incredible earlier, now you look like shit, is everything okay?”

I can’t stop the laugh that works it up my throat. It’s the champagne. All those bubbles were going straight to my head. I loved how refreshingly honest this stranger with the golden curls was.

“No, no it’s not.” I reply, taking a sip from the bottle as she nudges me over and we lay on the same lounger. “My boyfriend has gone missing. Or is ghosting me.”

She sighs as she reaches out and holds my hand. “Oh, I’m sorry…

I nestle the bottle between us so that it doesn’t spill. “I was trying to break up with him and he vanished! So, are we broken up? Am I an asshole if I break up with him over voicemail? What if he’s going through something big? What if he needs me?”

“Then, wouldn't he have confided in you?” She lets go of my hand to rummage around in her clutch, pulling out a small, neatly rolled joint. She’s got a point. If he needed me, he would have contacted me. “It’s obviously stressing you out. Just call him again.”

I snort, glad that my father isn’t out here to see me losing my shit. “He’s not answering.”

She shrugs as she lights up her blunt. “So, leave a message, like you said. It’s not like he’s giving you many options.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I need to do this.” I sit up properly and feel my new friend playing with my hair as she smokes. Why is it so easy to be in her company? Is it the alcohol? I chew on my nail as the call keeps ringing. “Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.”

I get his answer phone message. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes. “Chad, it’s Ava. I don’t know what’s going on with you, I’ve been to your apartment and you’re not there. You canceled your lease? Work said you called out with an emergency. Your mom won’t tell me anything but at least I know you’re alive. I hope…I hope you’re okay. I…I wanted to do this properly, in person, but you’ve vanished. I can’t believe this is how we end it. It’s over between us, Chad. I’ve been feeling so torn for a while, but we don’t want the same things. And I think you deserve a chance to be happy with someone who wants what you do. I’ll drop your stuff at your building this week. I guess this is it…”

Ending the call, I wipe at the tears streaming down my face.

“Sure you don’t want some of this?” The woman offers me the weed again.

Shaking my head, I realize I still don’t know what to call her. “Hey, I don’t even know your name.”

“You can call me Ro.” She tugs my dress so we’re both lying back again. “All my friends do.”

I like that she’s added me to her list of friends, but women like her, confident and gorgeous, have lots of friends.

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