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"Isn’tStarsky and Hutcha buddy cop movie?"
"You know what I mean," I interrupt. "You do, don’t you?"
"I think so." She rubs her chin. "I guess you weren’t kidding when you said you’re in a bind."
"In the mother of all pickles, is what you mean."
She takes a hefty swig of her margarita. "So, what are you doing now?"
44
‘'...Who could refrain,
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage to make love known?'
-(Macbeth – Act 2, Scene 3)
Isaac
I’m not letting her go without a fight. It’s the only reason I’m staying under his roof. That, and the fact that this studio is bloody amazing. The first time I entered it, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The space is massive. It stretches across the length of the entire floor, with skylights that let in so much light, it feels like I’m floating in a light bubble. There’s a bed pushed up against one wall, with a walk-in closet and an attached bathroom. On the other side is a kitchenette with a fully-stocked refrigerator.
As if that weren’t enough, there’s a separate entrance to the space. So, I can take the steps down and out the side door without running into either of them, if I so chose. In fact, I know she’s staying in this house, but I could easily forget about both of them and go for days without seeing either of them. If my brain would let me.
My father might be a bastard, but he got this studio right. He’d created the exact kind of space where I’d love to live and work. To think, I spent all this time running from him… Also, it’s exactly why I preferred to keep my life separate from him. He’s a canny bastard, and he knew exactly what to say and do to ingratiate himself with me, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to foster any warm feelings toward him. Don’t want to develop a familial sensibility for him. Don’t want to feel beholden to him in any way. Staying in the studio seems to come close to that, but goddamn, if this space isn’t fine. Best of all, I’ve been able to create here.
Despite the fact that they’re right below me in the house… In spite of the fact that they could be fucking right now… None of that seems to interfere with my creative flow. Which is a massive relief. For the first time in my adult life, I’m able to paint without interruptions. Without worrying about the outside world. Without feeling the obligations I normally felt toward having a girlfriend.
I might have been a shitty boyfriend, but a part of me had tried. Maybe I’d failed, but I’d tried to do good by her. And I was found wanting. It confirms what I’ve known all along. As an artist, I’m better off being on my own.
My muse is a jealous mistress. She wants me all to herself. I’d been aware of it, but I’d never acknowledged it. And now, I’ve reached this stage where my own girlfriend preferred my asshole of a father over me.
A part of me doesn’t blame her. JJ can be formidable, and despite his age, he’s lost none of his appeal. He has a sense of strength about him. A magnetism. Something I gravitated toward, even as a child. He’d made me feel secure, which was why it was a blow when he chose his work over me and my sister.
Betshefeels secure with him, too. It’s why she’s drawn to him. I get it. She didn’t have a father of her own, and now she’s allowing him to fill that empty space—the daddy-shaped space—inside of her. And that’s why I can’t give up without a fight. Maybe just to prove a point to her. To show her she doesn’t need him, and I’m better than him.
Does it matter? Even if she accepted it, do you see a future with her? Does she see a future with him?
Doesn’t matter. Even if I don’t see a future with her, I’m not giving up. And I don’t care if she imagines a future with him.
I put down my paintbrush and walk to one of the large floor-to-ceiling windows that grace the wall. After Lena walked out of the bowling alley, I began to follow her. JJ stopped me. He asked me to finish the set. I hesitated. He insisted. I gave in and, to be honest, it wasn't too bad. We played that set, and then another. The whole time, we continued chugging beer. And by the time we were done, I had a nice buzz going. I’ve never gotten drunk with my father, and it seemed significant. Which was the only reason I accepted the ride home with him.
As usual, we ended up exchanging words. He pissed me off when he asked me if I was truly committed to being a painter. Again. It’s like the guy doesn’t understand me yet. Who am I kidding? He definitely doesn’t understand me yet.
Lena had. And I’d leaned on her for support. I’d taken advantage of her good nature. I’d allowed her to shoulder the responsibility of the rent and bills. I’d refused to help her. I had also not been truthful to her completely. I’d fucked the HR manager at JJ’s office. The one I was coordinating with about my paintings. And I’d never come clean to her about it. At least she had the courage to tell me when she slept with JJ. It couldn’t have been easy but she did it. It’s one of the things I love about her. She has more balls than me.
I should complete my paintings, hand them over to JJ’s office, and leave. But I can’t. If nothing else, I have to show JJ I’m not a loser. That I can still win her over… Sleep with her one last time before I leave.
I glance down at the pool. The blue surface is serene. Next to it, the lights are on in the pool house. It also has a sauna, if I remember correctly. My mother often used it. It doesn’t sound like a half-bad an idea. A quick dip in the pool, followed by a stint in the sauna. It’ll clear my head, and then I can paint again.
I pull on a pair of swim trunks, grab a towel, then head down. I manage to swim a few laps, before I pull myself out. Grabbing my towel, I walk into the pool house and enter the sauna. "You?" I sneer, then come to a stop.
JJ glances up from where he’s sprawled out on one of the benches. Without acknowledging me, he folds his arms across his chest, and closes his eyes. A real piece of work, he is. I stomp over to the bench on the far end and fling myself down. Barely have I sat down when the door opens and she walks in.
45
Lena
