Page 27 of Free to Breathe
I’m left standing in the hall, wondering why everyone thinks I’m going to hurt Corinna. It wasn’t me who kicked her out of my life years ago.
Flicking the bolts on the door, I notice the music pauses. Suddenly, the country slides away and the genius of Rush’s “The Pass” comes through the expensive sound system. Geddy Lee’s voice is interrupted by the occasional swoosh and thwat of what I assume is frosting hitting the cake.
Making my way down the hall, I realize I have to see the magnificence of Corinna working out her emotions using her medium of choice. Back when we were at UConn, Corinna would pour everything into her art. Several of her professors wanted her to consider putting her work on display, but she’d never do it. She said it was too personal. Now she was about to serve it up on a platter for others to consume.
Cracking the door to the kitchen, I see her magnificent hair has been pulled back into a braid and is overlaid with a hair net. She’s shed her chef’s coat. Her back is to me, so I can see her tattooed key on full display.
Never forget who you are.
Just as Corinna lets another handful of orange icing fly, I can’t help but wonder what made her get it. What hidden meaning does the key hold for her? It can’t possibly be the same as mine.
“If you’re going to stand at the door staring, Colby, you’re in danger of getting the remains of this frosting flung at you,” she says without turning around.
I move into the kitchen. “How did you know it was me?”
“Everyone else announces themselves in some way.” She still hasn’t turned around. “You’re the only one who doesn’t. You think you don’t have to.” Reaching into the bowl, she pulls out another handful of orange. Letting it fly, it splatters against the cake and the tarp behind it. “I don’t know why you assume you have that privilege.” Corinna places the bowl on the table and approaches the cake. Spinning it around, the untouched gray is now turned in her direction.
Finally, when she faces me, her face is devoid of the fiery emotion I saw captured on Holly’s camera. “What do you think so far?”
“Of what?” Of our conversation? I think it fucking sucks.
“Of the cake. A teenage football player for the Tigers was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. Caught in time, thank God. His parents called because tomorrow’s his birthday. Kids at RHS have been decorating the rocks at Lake Mamanasco in tribute since he was diagnosed. The parents sent me a bunch of pictures. I’m trying to recreate it.” She gestures to the photos blown up and taped to the walls.
I’m intrigued by the idea and blown away by the talent of the woman in front of me. She’s not just decorating a cake; she’s creating a memory. “You were always so brilliant at this,” I murmur as I step forward to get a closer look at the cake and the images.
“At what?” Corinna removes her gloves and throws them into the trash before reaching for a bottle of water. Taking a large drink, she lowers the volume on the music.
“Capturing the essence of life in your art. You bring life to things all around you, Cori.” I turn to find her shaking her head at me. A vile look takes over her face.
“Corinna, if you please. Cori is reserved for the people closest to me. People who actually give a shit.” Corinna’s voice is filled with loathing.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit how shaken I am at the vitriol in her voice. I step toward her, expecting her to retreat the way she always did back at school. But Corinna holds her ground. “You know that’s not true,” I grit out.
I care. I’ve always cared too damn much.
“Right.” Her drawl is pronounced, taunting me to break through her shell. I want to throw something to break through because I know better.
This heartless woman isn’t my Corinna.
Abruptly, I turn and face the graffiti images taped to the walls. They’re vulgar in their beauty, denouncing the disease that racked this man/child. Words jump out at me, like loyalty, forever, light, and love. In what some would consider the destruction of something beautiful, something even more precious was built. I’ll never understand how, but these kids made it happen. If they can do it, then so can Corinna and me. We can resolve whatever issues we have between us to get back what we had. Because I don’t think I can live without her in my life.
Without turning, I ask, “How much longer will this take you tonight?” I look over my shoulder to see Corinna loading up an airbrush with an almost ink-like substance. Food coloring, I surmise. Knowing the damage she’s done in the past when pissed off and wielding it, I have little doubt she’ll fling it at me if she’s angered enough. I turn back to face the artwork. Loyalty jumps out again at me. For some reason, that word makes my jaw tick.
Where was her loyalty for us?
“At least another six hours,” she says, matter-of-factly.
“Jesus Christ, Corinna!” I turn fully, food color explosion be damned. “That will put you here after midnight. Alone.”
“I’m a big girl, Colby. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this,” she retorts. I don’t miss her subtle emphasis on the word “big.” My eyes drop inadvertently to her luscious breasts. She’s big all right. In all the perfect places. She always has been.
Shaking her head in disgust, she mutters, “If this wasn’t the last of this color…”
I can feel the heat climb up the back of my neck. “You’ve always been a knockout,” I admit.
The snort that leaves her lips is full of disdain. “Oh, please. Give me a fucking break and just go. I don’t have time to deal with this.” She waves her hand toward the back door, dismissing me, queen to a peasant.
I might have left her without trying to climb over her walls, but I need for her to know. “I saw you the other day.”
