“Sorry!”
“What the hell are you sorry for?”
“If I’d gone to the beach with my friends instead, you wouldn’t be here now. You’d be in your studio.”
She’s not taking any of the blame for what that bitch did. “None of this is your fault, but the deranged ideas of a teenage girl who’s mentally ill.”
Deirdre tilts her head and studies me. “You won’t even say her name, will you?”
“As far as I’m concerned, she’s dead, and I want to erase every memory of her from my mind.” But, I don’t want to talk about that. Not on our last day together. “I just wish you’d had a better vacation.”
“There’s always this summer.”
I wish I could agree, but I can’t. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Her eyes widen and I swear there was a flash of pain. I don’t want to hurt her, but have little choice. Deirdre deserves better. “I’m not sure I’m going to be good to anyone for a while.”
She leans forward. Her brown eyes intense. “You’ll recover from this. I know you will.”
“It could take months, years.”
“And I’ve got two years of school left, so what?”
I chuckle as an idea comes to me. “Tell you want, let’s meet at Sullivan’s in two years.”
She laughs. “From today?”
Deirdre doesn’t think I’m serious. “No. From the 4th of July. If you don’t show, I’ll know you’ve moved on. If you do,” I shrug, “we’ll see what this is.” And there is definitely something. I felt it the moment I met her last November and it’s only gotten stronger but my life is too fucked up right now to date anyone.
She sits back and smiles. “Our own version of An Affair to Remember?”
She has me. “Instead of the Empire State Building in six months, we’ll have Sullivan’s two years from this Fourth of July.”
“Deal!” Deirdre grins and holds out her hand as if to shake on it, right before her smile fades. “What are you going to do? Your hand. Your art.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.” I hold up my left hand. “I’m ambidextrous, first of all.”
Her eyes widen in surprise.
“And, my left is the dominant hand. Those asses in the jail just assumed I was right handed.” The other one will probably never be fully functional but I’ll do everything I can to get it back.
“I just thought you were using your left hand because it was the only one you could use.” She chuckles. “I hadn’t even noticed that you were left handed before.”
“It’s not like I wrote anything around you.”
“So, you have a grand plan?” She’s grinning again. She’s so fucking beautiful when she smiles.
“Short term right now. I’m going to move back in with my parents. I’ll need their help with Cam.” I hold up my bandaged right hand. There’s a lot of metal in there. Airport security is going to be a bitch if I ever try to go anywhere. “Baxter’s going to take over running the gallery so the kids can still sell their work and the apartment upstairs will be available for whoever wants it. Probably the new art teacher.” I spoke with the administration this morning. They were very apologetic, but I get why I can’t keep my job.
“I’m glad you’ll still be able to sculpt eventually. Maybe you’ll open another gallery.”
“I want to return to what I truly love, working with metals. I got away from it because clay is faster and cheaper, and safer for the kids at Baxter. But, it still won’t feed me so I may go back to school and get my masters in psychology. Art therapy holds an interest.” I shrug. “There’s a ton of things I could do and that’s what I’m going to think about while I heal.”
She’s leaning on the bed, her chin in her hands. I wish her break wasn’t over, but I can’t concentrate on my future with Deirdre around. She too much of a very pleasant distraction. “You know, there’s only one thing I wanted when we were sitting on the bench. Before we were interrupted.”
“What?”
“To kiss you.”
Her face softens. “It’s never too late for that.” She leans over and presses her lips to mine and in that moment, all the pain in my body disappears. I thread my fingers through her hair, keeping her close as I deepen the kiss.
Someone clears her throat and Deirdre jerks away from me, her face turning a cute shade of pink.
“It’s time for therapy, Mr. Tinley,” a nurse says through her amused smile.
Deirdre stands and looks down at me, her dark brown eyes damp with tears.
I’m a bit choked up too. “See you later?”
She smiles as a tear slips down her cheek. “Two years from July.”
More
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EXCERPT – BETWEEN THE LINES
Between the Lines: The Academy #4 Baxter Academy Series ~ Academy
© Copyright 2015 – Jane Charles
All Rights Reserved
“Who the hell is that?” Mateo Perez, a therapist at the Baxter Academy of Arts, says before giving a low
