Worse Weeks Are Over
CLYVE
THIS MIGHT BE the worse three weeks of my life. Losing a good artist, losing a friend, and losing Westley. But life must go on as they said. So, here I was, trying to get back on track.
For the last three weeks, I hadn’t got a break. I missed dinner with Mum and my brother, or rather, I intended not to meet them because I knew they wouldn’t stop asking me, and I wasn’t ready to give them answers.
After I watched Westley on TV, I also happened to Google her. Her secret of being Harry Bloom alive, and being a cam girl was not a secret anymore. Her father gave a statement to the press. The news dwindled, but Westley was completely ignoring my call.
“Clyve?”
“Yeah?”
Austen scanned my face with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve been calling you in like five times now.” I was grateful he came back and apologized. He was a good lad. I couldn’t afford to lose a good artist and a friend. Last week he came back to work. And so far, so good.
“How’re they doing back there?” We found aspiring artists and men who were suffering from PTSD and chose art as part of their therapy.
“They’re doing great.” We went back to the studio. “I thought you wanna see Lloyd.” We found Lloyd on the street. He was an artist. After we offered him a good deal, he finally agreed, but it took a week for us to get him to join us.
They were working on Westley’s photo I took before our launch ride. Every time I looked at that picture, I thought my heart was ripped apart from my chest, but that was her choice. If she wanted to talk to me, she surely knew where to find me. I felt relief that she wasn’t ignoring me alone. She was also ignoring Austen. I was just hoping she was fine somewhere.
“He was so good.” The only thing we had a problem with him was, we couldn’t get through him. He built his walls for years, and he was the most cynical person we’d ever met. Austen was skeptical about my idea of inviting him in, but we needed an artist as talented as Lloyd.
“Yeah,” Austen agreed as he marched forward. “Guys, it doesn’t have to be perfectly copied from the picture. Take it as your inspiration. You can see through the eyes of our model, her smile, the background, or look beyond it.”
“How are you doing so far, Buckley?” He was one of the bravest soldiers who fought in the Middle East and lost his left leg there. He was the most silent in the class.
“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I felt like I’m not doing any good.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, mate. Remember, this should not pressure you. Just do what you can do.”
“Thanks. If I did good, maybe I can help raise a few bucks for your fundraising.”
“Our, Buckley. And no worries. Baby steps, mate. I’m not good either, but I never give up. It also helps me a lot.”
“Mr. Linton, done with the paint. Once it dried up, we will start with re-coating tomorrow.” We were interrupted by one of the team members Eli had suggested were good at making this place possible in a short time. They did pretty great actually. They broke down the walls that separated the studio and replaced it with a more sturdy one.
“Thank you.”
The studio looked more welcoming with huge windows for the light to come in. It would naturally dry the painting. And for the gallery, they already installed lighting. In a few weeks, the first art gallery I’d be hosting would open to the public.
“Any news?” Austen nudged me.
“I should be asking you that.”
“She’s still ignoring me. I sent her flowers, but I don’t know if she even received them or worse she asked the staff to throw them in the trash. I called her father, but he only said to give her some time, and that she’s okay.”
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “Then that’s what we should do.”
“It’s almost a month, man.”
I faced Austen, glaring at him. Before I could speak, he raised his hand.
“I know. I know this is my fault,” he whispered. “You’ve been shoving these words right into my face for days. I started to get it now.”
“Good.” I checked my watch and clapped. “That’s enough for today, guys. See you all in two days.”
* * *
“DON’T ASK ME again,” I warned Austen and shove a forkful of vegetable curry in my mouth.
He was my constant meal mate, and he was good at helping me forget things for a while. My heart was still hurting, but just like Westley’s father said, to give her some time. And that was what I’d been doing.
“I have news though.” I could hear the excitement in his voice.
My fork hung in the middle. “What is it?”
Austen grinned. “But promise me that you will have dinner with your mum and your brother this weekend.”
“You’ve been talking to them?” My question came out a little bit harsh and accusing, but Austen seemed cool with it.
He shrugged. “Dude, your brother came to see you, and you just talked to him in three sentences? So, I entertained him. He’s a good man, you know. I wish I could change his seat with Harry because I really missed that woman. I lost her for years, and now that she’s alive, I can’t spend quality time with her. It’s torture.”
“I’m sorry. We’ll gonna see her again,” I assured him. “Whether she likes it or not.”
He shrugged again. “I hope so. Very soon.”
I realized we both were suffering from our losses and then we both missed a person we cared about.
“About your good news, what is it?”
“She went to meet Keene.”
“Keene is still not talking to me.” I rolled my eyes, ignoring the twinge of pain in my chest. Thinking of them trying to work things out with their marriage made me want to puke my guts out.
I completely lost my appetite. I placed down my fork and took a deep breath. Austen must have noticed my discomfort because he was already offering me a glass of water.
“Thanks.” After I emptied the glass I let out a deep shaky sigh. “You’re saying?”
“I didn’t know you care a lot about them, and I wasn’t also sure that you were in love with Harry until I just confirmed it right now.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I am not.”
“Don’t lie to my face, Clyve. She’s my sister, and you’re a friend. What I learned from my experience, I wish I told my girlfriend how much she meant to me, and that’s the regret I always carry in my chest. I loved her, but I never told her when she was alive. I realized she meant to be more than what I showed her when she was already lying cold in the morgue. Don’t do the same mistakes I did, Clyve.”
“Thanks, but-”
“She lied to you. If you compared her situation with yours, don’t you think she deserves a little bit of an exemption? I love her. We didn’t see her often because of her dad, but she made sure she could reach out to me. She didn’t come to me when she ran away because I was staying at the frat house. If she had another choice that day, I still let her choose to be with Keene because she learned a lot. She became stronger, and independent, and stood for what she believed was right. If she was with me, she’d be more in trouble, and I don’t wanna think about the worst-case scenario we ended up to be. Just take that some things happen for a reason.” His words stabbed me like knives.
“If I were in her shoe, I might be doing the same. It’s not all her fault why we ended up sleeping together. I was the one who made a move. We opened up to possibilities. I just wish she told me about her marriage-”
“And I know what choice you would choose. Cut the crap, Clyve. For a man like you, I know you would choose to keep your feelings locked inside your chest than let her know how you like her more than a friend. It sucks, I know. That’s probably why Harry went there to see her husband because she already realized that she can’t be with you while she’s still tied in marriage with Keene.”
My heart nearly stopped. “What do you mean?”
“They’re getting divorced.”