The Girl in the Painting

But the second time I shout her name, someone else’s voice joins mine.

I glance over my shoulder to find her sister walking out onto the sidewalk, and when she meets my eyes, she strides toward me and shoves two hands into my chest.

“What were you thinking?” Lily screams. “Why are you doing this to her?”

“Doing this to her?” I ask, but my question goes on deaf ears, and Lily’s gaze turns to fire.

“You’re just out here kissing other women! What the fucking fuck!”

Her insinuation pisses me off.

“Kissing other women?” I spit back. “That’s the exact opposite of what I’m doing! That woman in the club wasn’t anything but an annoyance. I mean, fuck, my goddamn eyes were closed when she moved in and pushed her plastic lips to mine!”

Seething anger vibrates the space between us.

“You are—” Lily starts to say something, but I cut her off.

“Other women might as well not fucking exist because these days, all I do is think of Indy. Dream of her. Lose my mind over her. I’m fucking miserable over here!”

“What the hell?” Lily screeches and shoves at my chest again. “She broke up with her boyfriend because of you. She’s in love with you, you idiot!”

She broke up with her boyfriend?

“What?” My jaw goes slack. “She doesn’t love me. She can’t even look at me. All I do is cause her pain.”

“She doesn’t hate you, you dumbfuck! She’s in love with you! She’s been a goddamn mess over you! She can’t sleep. She can’t eat. She can’t even go to work. She’s devastated!”

In that moment, I feel what’s left of my pathetic heart break and crumble into dust and ashes.

I don’t even know how to respond.

“I didn’t know,” I say, but my voice is a whisper. “I didn’t know. I thought she was done with me. I thought it was too much for her. I thought whenever she looked at me now, I just reminded her of Adam.”

“No.” Lily shakes her head. “Whenever she looks at you now, she sees what she lost, Ansel. She sees you.”

I’m crushed. Confounded. And if I could go fetal on the sidewalk without someone calling the cops, I probably would.

“God, Lily,” I mutter and swallow hard against the emotion that threatens to creep up my throat. “I didn’t know. Fuck, I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.” She’s still pissed, and I don’t blame her.

I’m pissed too.

Pissed at myself.

Pissed at that stupid blonde.

Pissed at the universe for fucking with me so hard.

I scramble to pull my phone out of my pocket. “Where do you think she went?”

“I don’t know.”

I try to call Indy, but it goes straight to voice mail.

And I call her again and again and again, only to be left with the same result.

“Call her, Lily!” I demand. “Call her from your phone!”

Her eyes go wide, and she searches my face. I don’t know what she finds, but whatever it is, it has her reaching into her purse to call her sister.

“Is she answering?” I ask, my voice panicked.

Lily shakes her head. “It’s just going straight to voice mail.”

“Fuck! Try again,” I urge, but I can’t even wait for her to do it. Instead, I yank the phone from her hands and try to call Indy myself.

Lily startles but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she just stares at me with wide eyes, watching me fall apart outside of this goddamn club.

It rings and rings and fucking rings until Indy’s sweet angel voice is in my ears and telling me to leave a message.

“Fuck!”

“It’s okay,” Lily whispers and gently places her hand on my arm. “Just calm down, okay?”

Calm down. How can I stay calm when I’ve just watched my whole fucking world run in the opposite direction from me?

How can I calm down when I feel like I’ve lost her for a second time?

Lost her for good.

Indy

Even though I tossed and turned all night, I don’t find the strength to push myself out of bed until ten. The sun is well on its way to being the center of the sky, and I’m running on fumes.

There’s a kind of a tired that simply needs a good night’s sleep, and another that needs so much more. A kind that is a bone-deep wearing of emotions that leaves you restless and fatigued and the equivalent of a five percent battery life on an iPhone.

After last night at the club, I’m the other.

I left in a rush of devastation and hopelessness and a desperate need for self-preservation.

Although I don’t feel like I preserved anything. If anything, the thin shell I’ve been pretending is me has been left cracked and corroded.

And I’ve been ignoring the outside world ever since.

Ansel.

Even my sister.

She called me no less than fifteen times last night, and I sent her a text message, telling her I made it home safely and I didn’t want to be bothered and I would call her when I was ready to talk.