“So the opening day for your trippy little paint ziggurat was officially set in stone early this morning. If nothing goes awry, they’re saying February 12th, but we never know…”

Shannon taps his pen on the desk with that familiar fidgeting rhythm, like he’s performing a one-stick drum solo as he rambles on.

I hear everything and nothing. I see him, but barely. The shouting choir in my head drowns out reality - anxiety blurring sight - blurring life. I’m listening too intently to the silence blaring from my cell phone, and it’s so piercing that I think I might lose my mind.

The pen keeps on tapping, and the room descends into vibrant shades of gray. 

I grit my teeth against the darkness trying to ooze in at the edges.

“I know it’s later than they told us last time,” Shannon continues, stopping the drumming to chew the back of the pen pensively, “some chick from their marketing department said there were a lot of things to arrange between tickets and advertisements…there’s a lot of red tape, apparently, and they felt like they needed more time to promote the “unveil” so they could get the most bang for their buck.” He raises his shoulders in a lazy sort of shrug, “But, on the bright side, all the payments have already come through. You’re one rich chick. What are you planning to do with all that money? Bathe in gold?”

No reply.

When is he going to say something?

“Alicia?”

“Hmm?” I look up quickly, snapping out of my daze with a little start, “Oh-uh, just save it. You know with artistic careers…things ebb and flow…”

Shannon looks at me blankly for a second as if I’m entirely daft, then puts his pen down with a chuckle, shaking his head slowly.

“Alicia…” he hesitates, and his smile is a bit awkward beneath the eternal brightness, “You’re still a little out of it today, aren’t you?”

I don’t even try to lie. I just sigh, letting the words leak out like a whisper.

Like running ink-

No-

It sounds grayer, heavier than I intended, but I don’t brush it off, don’t try to explain it away, “I’m just…tired…tired of a lot of things. I need a pick me up honestly.”

There’s a pause - just for a fraction of a second. I meet his gaze with mine and watch the green eyes dim as they try to read my face - though if he just asked, I think I’d spill everything at this point… When the glow returns it radiates outward with ten times its usual spirit, like emerald sunshine. He claps the folder shut, a little too loudly, and slides his chair back from the desk, with decided vigor, rolling down the sleeves of his button-up as he says briskly:

“Well! We’ve dealt with everything pressing. We can call it a day if you like. Do you want to go get something to eat?”

“I…” I hesitate.

His eyes lock on mine - or me - and for a moment I fall into that same hypnotism I felt the first time we met. There’s an enticing light in the expression, in the green fire and friendly smile, that almost tempts me to say yes… 

But I’d just be a drag.

“No, not today. Sorry.” I make myself say, even as the disappointment washes over me with uncomfortable vehemence, “Thanks anyway, though.” 

There’s a flicker of disappointment, but he just shrugs, nudging my cheek gently with one knuckle.

“No need to apologize,” he smirks playfully, and fixes his jacket, “Stay warm okay?”

I take my time walking to the subway station, and from there back to the house. I almost hail a cab…but I’m not ready for that, just yet.

I check my phone the second I get home. 

Still no text from Kattar.

What’s going on with him? 

I don’t know what he hopes to gain from this silence, but if he’s doing it as some sort of reverse psychology - to make me think of him - want to go see him - then he’s succeeding. Though to be honest, it’s not like I wasn’t already thinking about him anyway.

I can’t close my eyes without seeing his face these days - go to sleep without having the worst kinds of bad dreams.

The ones that make me wish I didn’t have to wake up to this reality.

Is he seriously angry at me for being busy? He’s the one who wanted me to become famous - who went on and on about me becoming legendary - taking the world by storm - I only got into this whole mess for his sake - it doesn’t seem fair-

-But I stop myself before I go down on that rabbit trail again. 

Getting angry is going to get me nowhere, but I have to do something-

I can feel the shadow trying to creep in scratching and then banging - pounding on the door - but I won’t let it in-

I push my easel into the corner by the window and grab my paints - some frayed brushes with the bristles falling out like shedding fur-

I’ll just try something simple to clear my mind-

But Kattar’s face keeps appearing in flashes like a blinking red light -

Just focus-

I’ve done hibiscus so many times I could paint them with my eyes closed, but I’m not feeling fiery today. I smear the paints together into a torpid sort of purple-blue, and fold the petals-

They’re always so delicate - like origami-

Like the folds of a certain red dress, I’d rather not remember.

Like the ruffles at the base of that cocktail dress, Kattar picked out for me -

My face burns-

“He certainly showed his taste...”

I don’t know what that man likes - I know -

I see his flustered expression when he saw me in the wrap dress - and the pain becomes nauseating-

I don’t know what he wants, but it must not be me.

Why else would he tell me not to come over - would he be so quiet?

I try to think of a good reason - but I’m tired of making excuses for him in an attempt to justify why I’m so unreasonably in love with him

I should have given this up a long time ago -

I wish I could have -

I should have quenched this fire when it was just a baby sun - little sparks under my skin-

She knew it was a bad idea but she would-

The damsel - I couldn’t-

We promised we wouldn’t-

Fall in love.

The last thing I wanted was to make him feel like a second thought - like the next best thing - after Etan left me-

You’re not supposed to fall in love this fast after a breakup.

You’re not supposed to be this in love with someone you still call a friend - with someone you’ve spent half your life with - falling asleep on his couch and letting him style you like a dress-up doll - you’re supposed to stay friends - you’re supposed to be like siblings- brothers and sisters - but if he. Didn’t want that. I tried-

You’re not supposed to be dreaming about anyone like this. Falling this hard-

It hasn’t even been a year since Etan broke things off.

And if I admitted to myself that I’ve been in love with Kattar this whole time it would only make everything worse, though I lied so well when I was dating Etan that I almost believed it myself-

If I admitted that I don’t want to stop loving him, even if he’s stopped loving me, even if he’s never loved me and it was all just my crazy, lovestruck delusion, does that make me loyal, or desperate -? Clingy-

I put too much water on the brush and the paint oozes from one petal like raindrops on a window. On a whim, I do it again, and again, like the flower is bleeding radiance - indigo perfume.

It’s crazy to think something could be this beautiful in death - like cut flowers, potpourri, my prince, myself…maybe.

I stare at my inky reflection on the sleepy screen of my cellphone and wonder if it’s really possible that he ever wanted me at all…

The screen lights up with a text- and my heart leaps into my throat-

But it’s Mrs. Moon, not Kattar.

Trying not to feel disappointed, I tap on the text - but I don’t even get to read it - before the phone begins exploding in my hand with her ringer - I don’t even have the time to say “hello” before she says hurriedly like she’s running out of breath-

“‘Licia, dear, I’m so sorry to add more to your plate when you have such a busy schedule right now but I haven’t been able to change my ticket yet - and the airline is giving me a lot of trouble-” she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears, “So if you could get to Kattar today or tomorrow and take him his bag - he already had it packed with anything he might want - it’s in his closet in the left corner. He wants it before Friday and I don’t think I’ll be able to get back until Saturday morning at the earliest. I would really appreciate it-”

I’m dumbfounded trying to process what she saying as she continues on, talking and apologizing until I finally find my voice.

“Mrs. Moon, where is Kattar?”

“Oh, room 4A on the fourth floor, the same one as last time. I’m sure a nurse can show you but…”

And that’s when the shadow hits me.

I’ve never broken down that fast.