Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Travis
PRESENT DAY
Isabella walks in for a dose of caffeine, and I watch as the bell rings on top of her head. Last night brought back a fantasy I had imagined years ago and had put behind me. I wasn’t expecting her to grab onto my heart all over again—not that I was ever free from her grip, but now more than ever, I’m stuck.
I shift my attention to Olivia, and she’s leaning on her car, her head dug in the neck of her hoodie. Last I saw her, she was ready to risk it all, close to landing a kiss on my lips. And close to ruining any amicability I had left with a certain girl. Though I would’ve preferred meeting her another day than today, seeing her with Isabella naturally piqued my curiosity.
The two don’t necessarily have a ‘let’s hang out in my car’ kind of relationship. Actually, I don’t remember a time those two have ever talked to each other since Tyrone officially introduced Olivia to the group way after Isabella had moved away. Olivia had been around but, at the same time, not around. At least not around us.
I walk toward her, internally anticipating my questions and hoping for them to be answered.
“So…” I skedaddle. “What were you two doing together?” I ask, finally reaching her.
She looks up to my height. “Nothing alarming.” She stops at that, but I eye her, demanding more than what she thought was fit to please my curiosity. “Why do you want to know so badly?” A cheeky smile draws on her face as she analyzes my face.
I clear my throat, trying to hide from the obvious. “Because…” I search for my words. “Because it’s unusual.”
“Why? Can’t I hang out with her?”
I join her and lean on the car. Her jacket brushes my left arm as I’m only in my shirt, and I feel the tiny bits of hair on them flare up to the cold.
“You know what I mean,” I murmur.
“Can we not talk about your ex-girlfriend, please? I feel it won’t benefit me if we continue to do so.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s one of those smiles I show to the boys whenever they bring up Isabella at the bar, at dinner, or at my house. Every damn time.
I turn to look at her, slightly concerned. “Olivia,” I whisper.
She shifts to the side and chuckles. It doesn’t look like it’s to distance herself from me but to give herself space to gather her thoughts. “I know,” she blurts out.
My gaze fixates on her as I observe her gestures. Her hands are in the pockets of her jacket and her eyes are looking at a distance, to the cafe.
“What can I do for you to see me that way, Travis?” And just like that, the words I never thought I would hear come out of her mouth as she glares at Isabella’s silhouette through the hazy window. “What can I do for you to look at me the way you look at her?” she repeats. This time, her attention is on me.
Just as that day, her legs lead her, and she approaches me. The little distance we had between us, which I was grateful for, suddenly disappeared, and I felt her warm breath on my chin.
I look around us, searching for one person. “Olivia, we’re outside,” I hiss.
“I know we’re outside, Travis, and I know you want to run away from me, but I have to tell you, at least one last time before I let go.”
“Can we not?” I plead with my eyes widening. “Can we not do this here?”
She nods with a distasteful look and turns on her feet to open the car door. I stand there, oblivious of what to do, staring into space. In a way, I asked for this. For us to be elsewhere than outside, where Isabella could pop out from the cafe at any moment. But I also don’t want to enter her car. I fear whatever she’ll say will bring us back to the outbuilding.
“Are you coming?” her voice echoes in my ear. I can’t escape anymore.
I sit in the passenger’s seat, my hands clasped together as I avoid eye contact.
“Travis!” she calls, but I sit firm on my ass, not glancing at her.
“Travis, please, look at me.” Desperation fills her voice. Every word, every breath, and my name… they all sound sad for some reason.
I turn to look at her, and what welcomes me shatters my soul. She’s in front of me without a tear on her face, a word from her mouth, not even a whisper. But that look… the one that seems to be holding her feelings I’ve pushed back for years, shatters my entire being.
She’s deliberately shown multiple times how much I mean to her, but it’s never been the same for me. Not even once. She’s always been Tyrone’s friend, the girl I have something in common with, and with time, has also become my friend. It never clocked in to me how serious she was about all of this. Until now.
“I’d like you to not say anything for the next few minutes and just listen to me. Just this once, listen,” she says, and I nod. “I do like you. Very much. To be honest, I never expected you to go out with me because even though you always denied it, you cared and still care for Isabella. I knew I wasn’t her, and you made that perfectly clear,” she begins.
My lips part in eagerness to correct her on that last bit, but she cuts in. “I just loved the way your eyes lit up whenever we talked about art and how great you are with your brother. All those short moments we had together made me dream of a universe where I met you first, and I know it’s insane, but I loved that dream. And it was even better that you were the main character of that dream. You might not remember our times together, but they were important to me, Travis. Extremely important to me, but I see it now.”
I try to say something again, but it’s no use. Her index finger runs to my lips and stops me before a breath can escape them.
“I can never be her, nor can I make you feel the way she makes you feel. But one thing I know is that I genuinely want the best for you. I wanted to help you move on, but your denial didn’t help either.” She chuckles, and I faintly smile. “Now, she’s back here, and I keep thinking… What about her makes her so unique to your eyes? What does she have for you to be waiting for her all these years? So, tell me, what’s her secret?” She picks back up again.
I keep my mouth shut and wait for more to come out from her, but it’s silent. She’s silent. Her eyebrows hand me the baton, and a heavy exhale releases my dormant chest.
With everything she’s said, nothing I can say wouldn’t make me look like a jerk. But I feel it’s important for me to be honest, both to her and to me. Honesty is the key to all that need peace and a fresh start. And we need both.
“There’s not much she has that you don’t, Olivia, so don’t think you’re no better. I won’t allow you to start comparing yourself to someone else. That’s not you. The Olivia I know is confident in who she is and tells me many times that I don’t deserve a woman like her. And you’re right, I don’t deserve a woman like you, and that’s not only because you’re a good person, but also because the one who does deserve you is waiting for you,” I say.
“Stop with the crap, Travis. You’re only saying that because you have to, not because you believe it.”
“I believe every single word I just said.”
“And you think she deserves you?” she asks. It’s as if all I just said about her went through one ear and out the other.
“I don’t know about Isabella deserving me, but I know I don’t deserve her either.”
“But she left you. She broke your heart.”
“Yes, she did.”
“So why are you still smitten? Why are you the one pining over her and not the other way around? She’s a fool for letting you go; you know that, right?”
I chuckle at her words, only because I don’t have an answer to that. I don’t know why my heart still yearns for Isabella, nor do I know why I feel it’s only right for it to be that way, but I like having that back. Having her back.
“Was I that obvious?” I sarcastically ask, a smirk on my face. Olivia tilts her head with her eyebrows ticked up in response, and I beam.
“I guess she brings out something in me I can’t really explain. She’s the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, the face I wanted to be the first I see when I woke up. The one I wanted to cook for and serve breakfast to in bed. Isabella was who my heart was beating for. Literally.”
“You keep talking in the past, Travis. Have those feelings changed? Do you really believe those feelings have changed?”
“Yes,” I answer.
She sends me that same look again, and I feel exposed. I can’t hide much from her and it’s annoying, but that’s why she is my friend. Just like those three musketeers.
“Those were indeed my feelings six years ago. Now, I have other wants.”
“I hate to ask, but like what?”
“Her. I want to hold on to her.”
She shifts in her seat and blankly stares through the windshield, and I do the same. And just like that, we stayed there for about half an hour, digging far into our thoughts.
Just like a song, everything needs to be in harmony for it to be perfect. From the drums, the piano barely heard in the background, the voices and the lyrics. All is needed to be in the perfect place for the person listening to it to feel everything at once.
Just like a song, I try to get my colors right, my ideas right, and most of all, in the right place for the people who are going to stand in front of one of my canvases at some museum or auction house get to feel what I was feeling when I brought the painting to life. That’s my objective, my strength, and for it all to plummet doesn’t reassure me of my future.
I could say all those things to my mother and the point would be missing across. She loves to be right and to be kept in the same lane. Change is too much for her, but I need that change. I need that pause in my life where I can gather everything back in harmony and tune them perfectly. That’s all.
Turning the keys in the lock doesn’t feel the same anymore. I fear what’s behind the door and how it would affect my life moving forward. The muscles of my legs tense up as I walk toward the living room where my mother sits.
“Hey, honey. How have you been? We haven’t seen you in forever.” Her head turns to me as she speaks.
Comfortably sat on the couch, her legs are crossed on top of one another while she stuck a fork into the plate in her hand, aiming for a piece of an apple. Her obsession with fruits would never die out. I shift my gaze to her side, and I spot the old man next to her. His legs are spread on the coffee table as he faces the TV.
It’s fascinating how long he has lasted with my mom. Ten long years and still no ring on her fourth finger. What a perfect guy.
“The boy hasn’t been here for like two days, Libby,” he opens his mouth, and I roll my eyes.
“And that still feels like forever,” she retaliates.
“Hi, Mom. Angelo,” I greet.
I’ve learned to live with Angelo around. I still don’t like him for her, but I don’t sulk about it anymore. It’s been years, and she seems to love his company. I’m nobody to tell her who she should be with, so I’ve adapted to her life.
“I have to talk to you.” I point at her with my head moving up and down.
“What is it?” she asks.
“Can we talk in private? Outside,” I suggest.
Adapting to her life doesn’t necessarily mean drawing Angelo into mine.
She follows me out to the garden, and I lose no time getting my point across. “I’m going to be putting some of my art pieces for auction. Again,” I say.
“Oh, that’s wonderful. How? When? With what house?” she raises her voice, plunging me into a bunch of questions.
“Slow down. I can’t answer everything at once.”
“Yes, of course. So, which house are you going to put it up for auction?”
“Maurney’s Auction House, in Paris. They sent a representative down here to convince me to sign the contract and I did.”
“Oh, wow! A representative? That’s such great news. I’ve heard of Maurney’s Auction House before. They’re pretty huge.” A smile washes over her.
Seeing her being happy about this only makes it hard for me to tell her the real reason I’m here.
“What about the representative? Are they still here? I don’t think I’ve heard about a foreigner arriving in town,” she asks.
“About that…” My hearts start beating excessively. I don’t know why exactly I’m nervous to tell her about Isabella, but she hasn’t been her biggest fan.
“It’s Isabella Kirby. That’s why she’s back.”
A heavy pause takes the stage, and I can only hear the beating of my heart.
“She works at Maurney’s? As a rep?”
That’s what she’s curious about? I was expecting more from her, but I guess this is better.
“Yes, and no. She’s more of their art specialist than a rep, but yeah. And with the contract signed, I’ll be working with her for a while until I go on a break.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, that too. I’ve been meaning to tell you about that. After the auction, I want to stop for a while. Actually, I’m stopping right after I’m done painting the piece I had told you about. I want to find my essence again, the love I have for painting and why it means so much to me.” I go on.
The more I say, the less nervous I get. It was much easier than I thought. It’s like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and it feels nothing but good.
“No,” she candidly lets out.
“What?”
“You can’t stop. You know you can’t stop.”
“But I have to, Mom. I want to. Besides, it will only be for a while,” I push.
“It’s a no, Travis. And about that auction, forget about it.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said forget about it. You’re not doing it, not with her. If you want to do one so badly, I’ll call for some favors abroad for another event, but you’re not doing this one,” she goes on.
It takes a while for it to sink in. Flashes of the same words overwhelm me, and I chuckle at them. A decade it has been, and she still believes she gets to have a say in what I want. Same as back in London when I asked to stay with my aunt, Belinda, instead of closing a chapter of a life I had barely lived. She said those same words, but it was better adapted to that situation.
I chuckle again, stuck in that memory. Until now, I can’t believe she said that to me. “If you want friends so badly, I will make sure to connect with the mothers in Road Haven, so you get better ones.” She said after I had said I couldn’t leave the friendships I had formed at school. Some things never change.
“It’s not your decision, Mom. I’ve already signed the contract, and I’m going to keep my word.”
“I said you’re not doing it. Understood?”
“No. I don’t,” I raise my voice.
I’ve been keeping it in for so long, but this time, I feel the need to stand my ground. It’s more that an auction or working with Isabella, it’s about my mental stability and the last I have of passion for my job. It’s about what I love.
“Give me a real reason you don’t want me to work with that auction house? One good reason that has nothing to do with you or what you think it’s right. A reason that’s for my best interest, Mom,” I demand.
She stands there with her arms crossed and her shoulders lifted. The tension in them is as visible as the control she’s trying to have. A minute ago, she was ecstatic about the event and now she’s against it. She can stand there, silent and huffish all she wants. I won’t allow her to end this conversation.
“All my life, you’ve always had your way, in everything. From the choice of my friends in London to us moving away because, in your words, I keep surrounding myself with bad influences. So, give me a suitable reason this time, Mom.”
She clears her throat, avoiding my eyes. “You want a reason? Fine. I don’t want you anywhere near that girl. Not in this town and definitely not in France,” she says.
“What?”
“You heard me. Go back and cancel it. You’re not doing this with her.”
She drives her body away from me and face the garden. I stand on my guard and point my body towards her, and the more I stand here, the more confuse I get.
“Why is it important that it’s her? Believe it or not, I signed this contract for my career, not for her.”
“It doesn’t matter, Travis. It’s still her, your ex-girlfriend, mind you. I said no, so bear with it.”
“Contrary to what you seem to think, that’s not for you to decide. I’m twenty-six. I’m no longer a child, and this is a business opportunity,” I say, and she closes any gap I had to convince her by avoiding my gaze. “Unless you explain why I can’t do this or see Isabella, besides the fact that she’s my ex- girlfriend, I’m doing this. With or without your approval. Not that I needed it.” I end.
I’m still confused as to why she’s against this. I get it. Isabella’s my ex, but she’s also the one who’ll help me release my last statement to the world. When it comes to my art, no matter how involved Isabella is in them, I can differentiate what’s personal and what’s not.
This auction event is not personal and shouldn’t be. I just hope my mother understands that.
I wait for her to say something, but then the buzzing of my phone fills up her silence. I reach for it in the back pocket of my jeans, and as if the heavens are watching, I see her name illuminating my eyes.
“Speaking of her,” I whisper to myself as I pick up. “Did you remember?” I ask Isabella, keeping my eyes on my mom.
She finds her decency and looks at me, but this time, it’s a look I’ve never seen before. Her jaw drops as her lips are tight shut, not to mention her eyes. They’re dark and directed at my hand holding the phone, almost as if she was to snatch it.
“No,” Isabella answers through the phone and draws me back in.
I squint my eyes, trying to figure out why my mother looks angry.
“Are you sure?” I mutter to Isabella.
I let go of the focus on my mother and moved further away into the garden, leaving her no choice but to head back inside. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why this conversation derailed, but now, I have Isabella at the other end of the call, and I need my focus on her.
“Yes,” Isabella’s voice takes over again.
“Not even your love surge?” I ask.
“What, I didn’t—” she stutters.
“Ha!” I yell.
“Can you, I don’t know, maybe erase whatever happened from your brain?”
“How can I, Bella?” I murmur, strolling around the garden. “How can I possibly forget the night everything almost came back to place?”
She stays silent on the line, and I smile. This, right here, is personal.
“Meet me at the lake,” I say without much thought.
“Now?”
“I know I asked you to call, but I want to see you. Lake. Now. I’ll see you there,” I say before hanging up.
I’ve been trying to avoid my feelings for Isabella from the moment she stepped foot back in town, and at first, I thought I was doing a good job at that. But now that I recall, the day she came to see me at the outbuilding, it was over. The moment that hair came into view, I was done for. And last night… Last night was my dream.
If I want to keep going on the path that’s best for me, I must get back my life support.