Choose Me: a novella (7 page)

chapter thirteen

A Familiar Face

On Friday one of the gallery representatives called Jessica at work and asked if the portrait could be delivered that evening. She glanced down at her calendar. She was supposed to have drinks with Tyler but she wasn’t in the mood for it. Ever since the vernissage, he’d been so pushy with her and it was a side of him that she didn’t much appreciate. She crossed out his name with a red pen and assured the gallery assistant that delivering the portrait that evening would be fine.

             
A bubble of excitement welled up in Jessica’s chest. It was coming tonight. As soon as she’d seen the portrait hanging there, she knew she had to have it. She hadn’t been very sentimental when they were in Scotland, hadn’t saved ticket stubs from the movies and plays they’d seen, nor napkins upon which he scribbled notes to her. All that she had was an envelope of poor quality photographs taken by Gillian during the many evenings he’d spent in their flat. For the last two years, they’d remained stashed away at the back of her closet, an unwanted reminder of her folly. After the vernissage, she’d finally dug out those photographs and studied them. They looked so happy and complete together, as though Plato’s theory of androgens searching for their other halves were true. Until she met him she’d felt adrift, lost not only in Scotland, but in her life. And then he found her, and for the first time she’d understood what it meant to be happy.

She already knew where she’d hang it.

The portrait had also brought back all of those emotions. She r
emembered the circumstances leading to it: the awful excursion to Glasgow on a soggy winter’s day, the Italian model who’d stomped her feet and burst into a searing temper tantrum when Fergus announced that the shoot would take place in a cemetery. And Jessica, wanting to see how Chris and Fergus worked, how they planned each shot and took advantage of the little natural light they could, tagged along, offering to help with reloading cameras and fetching mugs of tea and coffee. Every free spare moment was an excuse for Chris to lean over her and steal kisses. Then Fergus gave up and sent them back to the hotel, and then they’d made love—first in the tub and then again in the spacious bed. It was the most comfortable and sumptuous bed that either of them had ever slept in. The cotton sheets felt like silk against their skin, and the velvety bedspread looked and felt as if it cost more money than either of them had ever had.

They’d just finished making love, and every muscle in her body was sore yet longed for more. Chris left the bed and said, “I have to capture this moment…” He was naked and his body was lean and long like a swimmer’s. He moved so easily, not at all self-conscious of his nakedness or that anyone might see—especially
since they’d left the curtains open and there was an office block just across the small road from their hotel. And she’d lain there in wait, her body still humming from the way he moved her.  For a brief moment she wondered if everyone felt like this or was this something that only they shared. The scent of his skin was on her and she raised her hand to her face to drink it in. And then there was a small click and a white flash.

He’d caught her.

As soon as she arrived home, she rushed into her bedroom and removed a framed African art print from the wall facing her bed and set it on the floor. She wanted to see the portrait everyday without prying eyes wondering who’d taken it and when, why she’d agreed to it and what she was thinking at the time. This m
oment, though everyone at the vernissage had witnessed it, was private. It was something that only she and Chris understood. In her bedroom it was safe from Aisha’s eventual criticism. Her mother, she knew would just give it a cursory glance and then add some acerbic comment about Jessica letting someone take advantage of her.

“This is just for me,” she said. “I don’t want them ruining it for me.”

Then she went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine.  Though she was hungry, she was too excited to even think about cooking anything. Besides, her fridge was embarrassingly empty since she hadn’t done her weekly grocery shopping on Monday evening. Instead, against her better judgment, she’d gone Speed Dating with Aisha at Club Zanzibar on Columbus Avenue.

From the beginning it was a venture in futility. It had gone as most other nights with Aisha at Club Zanzibar went. From the
moment they arrived, Aisha’s in-your-face self-confidence and allure attracted men like bees to honey. And though the rules clearly stated that you weren’t to chat anyone up before the Speed Dating sessions began, there were more than enough brothers willing to bend those rules if they thought it would give them the advantage over everyone else.

Jessica had tried to be enthusiastic about trying out this novel method of meeting people. Hadn’t
Philadelphia Magazine
and
Essence
raved that it was the perfect way to break the ice and get past the embarrassingly stilted small talk of the traditional First Date? She smiled as brightly as all the other women, but the men who approached her were Aisha’s sloppy seconds and all they wanted to do was talk about Aisha. And after an hour of sixty-second dates that fizzled within the first thirty seconds, Jessica was more than willing to call it a day when Aisha decided that Speed Dating was boring and, besides, she was starving.

“Never again,” Jessica muttered as she searched the kitchen drawer where she kept all of her takeaway menus. “I’d rather ma
rry Tyler even if it means being bored to tears than have to go through another Speed Dating session.”

She found the Thai menu she’d been searching for and quickly jotted down which appetizer and entrée she wanted. Before she could call in her order, though, the phone rang. For a second, she froze. What if it was Tyler? She’d told him that she was going to the movies with her mother. If she answered, he might wonder why she was at home. But why would he be calling to check up on her? She didn’t think he’d ever done that before when she’d begged off at the last minute. But what did it matter? She could always say they couldn’t get tickets and anyway it wasn’t any of his concern.

So when she heard Aisha on the other end, she breathed a mental sigh of relief. “I thought you were out with Lover boy tonight.”

“I took a rain check,” she said with a grin. “Two Fridays in a row was more than I could handle.”

“I still don’t get how you can turn a fine brother like him down time and again,” Aisha said wistfully. “Brothers like him don’t grow on trees, you know.”

“You should make a play for him then,” Jessica suggested half-jokingly. She liked Tyler’s attentions, just not in the large doses he dished them out in. Plus, he had the annoying habit of treating her as though she wasn’t as intelligent as him. “He’s nice but he doesn’t do anything for me. Not like that anyway.”

She heard Aisha suck her teeth in mock dismay. “You a trip, sometimes, Jess. You don’t want to be alone, but you don’t want the men who are interested in you.”

“Why should I compromise if they aren’t what I am really looking for?”

“So why do you keep stringing Tyler along?”

“I’m not stringing him along. I told him from the start it was pla
tonic,” Jessica argued. “He’s the one who’s trying to cross a line I already established.”

“Okay, okay! Don’t get all riled up,” Aisha laughed. “Besides, I only called to find out if you wanted to meet up tonight.”

“Not tonight, I’m really—” the doorbell rang “—tired. Hold on…”

She set the handset on the kitchen counter then rushed out to the hallway to open the door.

Then he was standing there, holding a packaged wrapped in brown paper, looking the same as he had two years ago. The careful veneer he’d worn at the vernissage was gone, replaced by the old Chris—the one who never cared if his hair was combed or his jeans pressed. She swallowed hard, trying to remember to breathe and not really sure what she should say or do now that he was there.

The smile he gave her was careful, guarded. He held the pac
kage out to her and said, “Special delivery.”

The sound of his voice carried her across the ocean again, to that loft in the converted stable and all the nights spent wrapped up in each other. Two years, and he still burned bright…

She started, bringing herself back to the here and now. “God, hi! Come in!” Her voice sounded way too high
. Calm down, Jess
, she thought tersely.
Don’t get ahead of yourself…

He stepped inside and eased the door shut. “I saw your name in the order book…”

“God, yeah. I was so surprised when I turned up and saw my face…and your name on the program…”

“Yeah, this is my first big show
.”

Then she remembered Aisha. “Wait, I was on the phone. Let me just end it, and I’ll be right back.” She padded into the kitchen in bare feet, nearly slipping on the polished wood floors. To Aisha she said, “I’ll call you back later…” and hung up before her friend could protest. Her heart was beating a million beats per second. He was here, in her apartment.
Oh. My. God.

She took a moment to calm down, then walked back into the living room. He’d set the package on the coffee table and was standing by the couch, his hands tucked in the back pockets of his jeans.

“It’s been a long time,” she said. She nearly cringed. It had to be one of the lamest things she’d ever said, especially considering that she was the one who’d made it so.

But he didn’t react to how inappropriate it may have sounded.

“It has,” he agreed. “But hey, here we are…”

No, this was too awkward
, she thought. Maybe this was difficult for him, standing in her apartment and seeing her again. The old vibe was still there and she hoped it wasn’t unrequited. She could feel it, strumming and throbbing between them. She couldn’t take her eyes off him and knew she had to keep busy lest she just stand there like an idiot.

“I can’t wait,” she blurted out. He raised his eyebrows and grinned at her. “I have to open it!” She set about untying the twine securing the package, then ripping away the corrugated paper and brown wrapping paper. There she was…  captured by him, even now she could see how heavy her eyes were with want for him… he’d captured the moment just as Monet had said every artist should strive to do. There was no mistaking the desire and the secret knowledge shining in her eyes
.

“It’s beautiful…”

“It’s one of the best pictures I’ve ever taken,” he said. He was looking down at the floor. Seeing him like this, with his hands thrust in his pockets and his head bowed, he reminded her of a nervous schoolboy. Even his messy hair and the frayed hem of his jeans were boyish. And just then he was that same boy who’d nearly spilled beer on her in Edinburgh, the same boy who’d once stood outside her window calling out to her in the middle of the night just to sing a silly love song to her.

“I’ve missed you,” she said quietly. She closed her eyes, not daring to see the expression on his face.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

She felt the weight of his stare on her now and she looked up. She didn’t know what else to say. Neither did he. He sat down
beside her, close enough that she felt the heat rolling off him but far enough away that they weren’t touching. Their silence filled the room again and again.

“You made me beautiful in it,” she said finally. She angled her body so that she could look at him.

“I can’t take credit for that,” he grinned. “You already
are
beautiful.”

Again, a pocket of silence welled up. Jessica reached out, wan
ting to touch him but instead tracing her fingers over the black-stained frame.

“I had to deliver the photograph. When I found out that you were the buyer… I had to do it.”

She nodded slowly. “I wanted you to find me. I was hoping you would see my name, but I was afraid maybe you wouldn’t look for me.”

“What would you have done if I hadn’t come?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing? I’ve Googled you a thousand times the last couple of days, wanting to send you an email or find your phone number.”

They grinned at each other, still shy and not quite sure what was appropriate. How many times had they made love in Edi
nburgh, and now they were afraid to just touch?

“I didn’t see you at the vernissage. Christ, if I’d seen you…”

“I saw you,” she admitted.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were with someone and so was I,” Jessica replied. “Besides, I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to see me. Not after how things ended.”

“You should have said something to me.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“’Hi’ is always a good start.”

She smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He was leaning close to her now. She could smell the undertones of his aftershave, spicy like cloves and ginger. And something else…the familiar scent of his skin. She wanted to curl into him and hold him, bury her face in the dovetail of his shoulder and erase all that had gone wrong between them.

“So what happens now?” he asked. He sounded uncertain, and he looked away as he said it. His jaw twitched.