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I can’t imagine what that must do to her.
I know what two gruesome deaths is doing to me.
I have nightmares with their faces in them. I hear their screams still. I still remember the look in their eyes right before they were pushed to their deaths. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forget.
The media is loving the story of The Schoolhouse Ghost and The Rolling Stone Photographer. Articles calling us a twisted and perverse love story.
A demented love affair.
In the file, Jason included official offers for book and movie deals I just briefly skimmed over. The last thing I want is to see our ordeal on the big screen. Who the fuck would they get to play me? I actually chuckled on the plane at the very thought.
Reading it on the plane had been surreal. It’s hard to believe I not only lived it but survived it. But the hardest part isn’t what happened—it’s dealing with it all now. Yes, I got my career back, and yes, I’m a free man, but I often feel trapped. My breathing restricts often as my soul feels shredded with what occurred. I try to be strong for Ember, and yet, I sometimes wonder if she’s far stronger than I am.
Or maybe we’re both just fucked.
Fortunately for me and my model, my years of experience allow me to operate on autopilot, and I’m somehow able to finish the shoot and get some excellent photos that will work for what I need. I’m also happy the crew mostly leaves me alone during the shoot. I think word has spread that I’m not open to discussing the kidnapping and it’s best to check your curiosity at the door if you want to work with me currently and for any future gigs. I’ve never been one to be a diva, but if that’s the rumor, then good. They are correct.
I don’t want to talk about shit.
Leave me the fuck alone if you just want to be a rubbernecker and be around the Rolling Stone Photographer married to The Schoolhouse Ghost. Move the fuck along.
As I’m packing up the last of my gear, I hear a familiar voice from behind me. “Hi, Christopher.”
Looking over my shoulder, I see Marissa standing a few feet away with a warm smile but nervous hands fiddling in front of her stomach.
“Marissa?” I stand up from the crouching position I’m in. “What are you doing here?”
“I still have friends at Rolling Stone. I found out you were coming to LA on business, and well—” She repositions her weight from one foot to the other. “—I wanted a chance to speak to you alone. We need to talk.”
I haven’t seen or spoken to Marissa since the first day I returned home, and although I was hoping to avoid this conversation all together, I also know she deserves closure. I should have called her and explained long ago. It was selfish of me not to.
“Can we go get a drink?” she asks. “If you’re all done.”
“I’d like that,” I say, glancing down at my phone to make sure I didn’t get any calls while I was doing the shoot. “Does Mickey’s sound good?”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Her face lights up. “It’s our favorite whenever we come to LA.”
She’s not talking in past tense, and I wish she would. It was our favorite. Was.
We both don’t say much until we’re sitting in our usual booth and have ordered our usual drinks and our favorite potato skins as a snack. Guilt runs through my veins at how routine and natural it feels, and a big part of me misses the normal of it all. There was a day that I never thought I’d be back to doing these kinds of things again.
I decide to be the first to speak. “I’m sorry I haven’t reached out to you.”
Her eyes lower to her drink, and she nods slowly. “I was hoping you would. I kept waiting. I wanted to give you space and time, but… I kept waiting.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever have enough time, to be honest.” I take a drink of my beer and reach for a skin. “I don’t ever think I’ll be the man I once was.”
“I watched you and Ember in that interview. It was hard hearing what happened to you. Even harder seeing you with her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What about me, Christopher? Was I not your girlfriend before all this?”
“You were. Yes. But everything changed the minute that chain was forced around my ankle.”
“Why? Why do your feelings for me have to change? You and I had something really special. We still do.”
“Everything changed. I changed,” I admit. “I tried to fight it every step of the way. I tried to resist. But sadly, your and my relationship was collateral damage.”
