Page 110 of Perfect
How I felt watching them interact was a huge problem.
Bailey started teasing me at work on Monday about how Theo’s “audition” went, and he immediately texted me asking if I would ever want kids, like he’s really my boyfriend and those are conversations we should be having. Sometimes, it actually feels like he’s my boyfriend, and I almost responded to him about the kids thing.
It’s all a big fucking problem.
***
When I wake up on Sunday, I have the overwhelming urge to paint something. I shove Theo’s arms off me and jump out of bed, ignoring his questions as I pile my sketchbook, watercolors, and brushes into a tote bag before running out my front door. It’s six in the morning, the sun is barely up, I have brunch plans later, I’m in pajamas and it’s freezing, but I don’t fucking care.
I want topaint.
It’s clear outside, thankfully, so I run to Shively Park and up the steps, camping on the wet grass and setting up quickly. I start sketching the ionic portico of an old hotel that’s been placed in the park, flanked by bushes and trees that render the path behind it totally dark in the early morning. I don’t focus on anything other than the desire to make something, and I’m blissful as I lose myself in the flow of drawing for the first time in months.
Theo shows up with my winter coat, two coffees, and a book. He’s unusually calm and doesn’t bother me at all, sitting close by and reading quietly. It’s only when he gently tells me I need to get ready for brunch that I realize we’ve been there for hours.
I look down at the almost finished painting in my hands and smile slowly. My fingers are tired, my back aches, I’m cold, but I get to havethisagain. Theo doesn’t ask any questions, he just looks at the watercolor and smiles tenderly, telling me it’s lovely. When we get back to my apartment, he hangs it up on my bedroom wall while I get ready.
I startle when I see it on the wall, dread coiling in my gut. I leave it up because Theo will notice if I take it down, but I refuse to look at it again.
What I’ve painted is a beautiful, enticing doorway leading down a dark path.
***
“Wait,that’swhy he beat the shit out of Ben?”
I nod at Jessica, sipping my Bloody Mary. She looks horrified, her fork full of eggs hovering halfway to her mouth. Anna looks on the verge of tears, and I catch her eye, giving her a questioning look.
“Anna, what’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry, Alex,” she sniffles. “I should have said something, but I didn’t know...I didn’t think...” Jessica’s head swivels around so quickly her twists flip over her shoulder, and my stomach sinks.
“What do you mean?”
“Ben and I went on a date once,” Anna mumbles, pushing around food on her plate. “We had…different experiences of how it ended.” A wave of sympathy rushes through me, and Jessica reaches for Anna’s hand and squeezes.
“Are you okay?” she asks, keeping her voice quiet.
Anna shrugs and sips her mimosa. “Um, I guess? It was a long time ago, and I was pretty drunk, and he doesn’t thinkthat’swhat happened, so…I don’t know.” I down my Bloody Mary quickly, fighting off my body’s desire to freeze up because I want to be here for Anna.
“That fucking piece of shit,” Jessica spits. “Can we get him fired for that? Arrested? Anything?”
“Isthere anything we can do?” I ask, even though I doubt it.
Anna looks at me and shakes her head. “No. I mostly just try to ignore him. We work together and he’s part of my friend group, so I can’tnottalk to him, which sucks.” She stabs a potato viciously. “Hesucks.”
“Maybe if everyone else knew what kind of person he was, they wouldn’t want to be friends with him,” Jessica says as she slams her coffee cup on the table.
Anna shakes her head hard. “Please don’t.”
I reach across the table and grab Anna’s hand, squeezing tightly. “We won’t,” I say quickly, and Jessica’s anger deflates as she reaches for Anna’s other hand.
“Sorry. We definitely won’t. I just want to kick his ass now.”
Anna smiles at her. “At least I’m not alone in that anymore.”
“No, you’re not,” I say, locking eyes with her and smiling at her. “I think I know someone who would love to kick his ass foryou, if you want,” I offer quietly. “I’d probably help, honestly,” I mutter. Jessica looks shocked and lets out a low whistle, and Anna raises her eyebrows in surprise.
“That’s okay, but Ireallyappreciate the thought,” she says, unable to fight off a small smile.
