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I didn’t try to stop him, his words or vulgar imagination. He wanted to bend me over, he wanted to discipline me with a stinging spank. My jeans suddenly felt tight, my legs twisted in a pinch. Would he prefer the clap of denim on his palms, or rather the tight flesh of my bare ass? I imagined the latter but imagining was part of the problem. I’d done that enough already, and perhaps that had been the reason I was so compromised.
I had a hard time thinking clearly in his presence. I always found myself caught off guard, tempted by a stare that was equal parts lust and longing. But what did he see when he saw me? What did my eyes convey, fear or excitement? Both similar, but possibly one more distinguished by the burn in my cheeks.
I’ll find you in the dark, the real you, just like that night at The Met.His haunting words finally settled in my stomach, the one that turned with a sickness. I felt as though I’d just come off a roller coaster, my limbs still tingled with adrenaline.Findme in the dark? Is that where we were? Two stubborn people in the shadows, seeking some sense of similarity?
I couldn’t shake the sense, or rather the fear, I was meant to be hurt. He had the chance to kiss me, and clearly I presented myself to receive it. Had there been no knock, would he have done it, or would he have still pulled away? To him I was possibly just the thrill of a chase, a drug to the junkie who enjoyed conquering women just as he had conquered Hollywood. Could my resistance be just that? My shyness a tease, the good girl who he said was‘meant to be broken’.
My eyes went back to the newspaper, the one with the photo of us. His face was blocked, but mine wasn’t, giving the honest view of my expression. I knew I was pissed, completely infuriated by what he’d done that night. Not only did Alejandro destroy a piece of art, but he compromised my identity, along with the legitimacy of my business. Despite that anger, despite my complete frustration, I saw something different in the front-page photo. I looked neither angry or frustrated, my wide eyes the totality of one single word: captivated.
Is this what Parker saw? A look that sparked the question of if Alejandro and I were dating. I knew he was protective over me, but was there anything to really fear? Did he really want to kiss just now, or was the torment he caused prize enough? I couldn’t know without the discomfort of being vulnerable, but if the newspaper was any clue, then there was one thing I knew for certain. Despite there being a stack of newly published magazines, it was the old tabloid of him and I that sat at the top, a place to be grabbed both quickly and frequently. Was this the sign I needed to see, finally using my skills of perception to look beyond the mask of Alejandro?
My phone buzzed loudly, rattling along the keys in my purse. I figured it was Parker, sensing I was somehow thinking of him, or instead, sensing I was somehow in trouble. Neither was true, but the name that popped up on my phone was a telling warning in itself: Claire.
If I had any thoughts of what to do, she would be the one to dispel them. Had she known what just happened, she’d advise me to run, to flee at the real possibility of a broken heart. I would never let it get that far; it was a blessing and a curse, one I owed to her. I shook my head, my anxiety worse from her name alone than what I felt with Alejandro.
“Claire?” I greeted. I wasn’t friendly, but I wasn’t cold either, just professional, something I apparently no longer was around Alejandro.
“Gemma?” A spry yet stressed accent whispered on the phone, a familiar voice that seemed less cheerful than I remembered. “Honey, it’s Erin.” Though not visible, I heard her hand hovering near the receiver. Claire’s friend and neighbor had a way with being discreet, and it was something I both appreciated and feared to hear.
“Erin? What’s wrong?” I asked, already lifting myself off the couch and grabbing my sketches.
“It’s just… I don’t know, Gemma, you know these things better than me.” She almost whined, not out of annoyance, but anxiousness. I felt my throat wrapping in on itself.
“What happened?” I asked, unlatching the door to the trailer.
“Your mother’s not doing well. I think something happened. I didn’t know who to call, and I didn’t want someone to cometakeher away.”
“No, you called the right person,” I rattled, stepping down the steel steps and onto the street of the set. “Where is she?”
“The kitchen?” She seemed unsure, “I just don’t know. We were here cleaning out some cupboards, but then she screamed and…” Erin seemed panicked. “Gemma, she’s crying, and she won’t even look at me.”
“Crying?” I looked around for help, as if someone knew what to do, but no one ever did, especially not me.
“I think you need to come home.” She stated, seemingly more worried.Home?The word felt far away and removed. That was not my home, that was a cruel reminder of everything I ever hated, everything I ran from. I had compassion for Claire, but at what cost? People who knew my mother knew she was depressed, and as sad as it was, they had an expectation for her to be in pain. What was their expectation for me, if not to be there to help? But no one knew how I suffered, the self-dependent child who grew up too quick. I wouldn’t put that burden on anyone, not like how it was put on me, which is why I kept it a secret.
“I’m fine.” I replied to myself, forgetting that Erin was on the phone.
“I’m sorry, dear?” She asked, but I didn't know how to reply. If I went back, what would that mean? Would I get stuck again, weeks at a time? It happened before, a similar situation while working for Gerard, and he threw it back in my face. What if it happened again? What would Alejandro say if I couldn’t complete his suit because of my ill mother? I didn't know what choice I had. The duty I had as a child carried over to me as an adult. It was all mine to bear—the responsibility, the dread, the trauma.
“Don’t leave her alone.” I panicked, “I’m coming now.” Before Erin could reply, I hung up the phone, squeezing it with a tight and anguished grip. I needed a taxi, but had to leave the lot. As much as I wanted to call Parker, I couldn’t let this life bleed into his. Despite what Erin said, that wasn't myhome,Parker was, and I was still determined to keep that separated. Quickly I turned around, biting the nail of my thumb as I tried to swallow.
For a moment I felt lost, unsure of the proper exit or which way I came from. I wasn't even sure if I should tell anyone where I was going, or even if it mattered. Alejandro ordered me to stay in the trailer, and I knew I wasn’t supposed to leave. But I had to. I just couldn’t get caught, not with his perception, not with his insistent nature. I turned around again, quickly this time but not quick enough.
“What’s wrong?” Alejandro’s deep voice startled me, but not as much as his body did when I ran into it.
“Nothing.” I pushed him aside, “I have to go.”
“Don’t give me that.” He gently stopped me with the palm of his large hand.
“Give you what?” I asked, stroking my neck, soothing myself the only way I knew how. I didn't want him to see, but I couldn’t help it.
“You’re doing it again.” He nodded, “Who hurt you?”
“No one. I’m just stressed.”
“What did I tell you? You need anything, you come find me.”
“This doesn’t concern you.” I stammered, unsure if I was going to cry. I didn't want to go back; I didn't want to see Claire. In that home, I felt small, like a child again, but not in a good way, not like how Alejandro did. He was older, more confident, and his approval came when others didn’t. Was that wrong? Earlier I compared his conquests to a junkie, but was I just the same, seeking something I never had? Maybe I craved it, maybe that’s why I didn't leave with his so called ‘severance’.
