Page 123 of All That We Are Together
Leah
The first night I spent alone in that empty apartment, I nearly opened my suitcase, stuffed my things inside, and caught the first flight out. To follow Axel. To tell him I was wrong, that I’d been wrong about everything. But I didn’t do it. Instead, I stayed up all night and crawled into bed at the crack of dawn because the sheets still smelled like him. I always thought of the sea when I smelled him, the salt that used to cling to his skin, the sun, the beautiful light of summer.
I did that for a week. I tried to work during the day, shut up between the four walls of the studio, feeling how they seemed to close in on me, then I’d spend the nights thinking of him, of the last hours we’d been together, loving each other, struggling to understand each other amid all the doubts and silences.
After a few days in which I turned back into an emotional, vulnerable girl, something I didn’t want to be, I made a decision, and one night I walked down from the studio and tore the sheets off the bed before I could give in to the desire to bury myself in them. I put them in the washer, sat down in front of it on thefloor, with my legs crossed, and watched the last traces of him turn round and round and come to a stop. When I opened the door, the scent of fabric softener struck me, and it was a relief, but I also wanted to cry; it couldn’t be healthy, missing him so bad…
Little by little, I started focusing more on my work. With Scarlett behind me, watching my every step, I forced myself to get going every morning. I did what she asked of me, producing two pictures similar to the previous ones. I also finished some other pieces,mypieces, but I didn’t show them to her, because I had the sense she wouldn’t like them.
Oliver called me every afternoon. We generally talked about his life, his job, the news, or silly stuff, but deep down, I was dying to ask him if Axel was okay.
“Tell me what you did today,” he asked.
I took the wrapper off a lollipop and sighed.
“I ate with some friends from the gallery. We spent the morning there talking about the exhibition this weekend. Organizing things, you know, polishing the final details.”
“Are you happy then?”
I hated when he asked me that kind of questions. It forced me to think, and I didn’t want to turn those issues over and over, because when I did, I didn’t find the answers I was looking for, and that frustrated me even more.
“I guess so,” I answered.
“Is there something bothering you?”
I licked my lollipop.
“They told me I should sign up for a French class.”
“Oooh. Sounds serious. What are you thinking?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“You don’t sound like you’re jumping for joy at the idea.”
“Yeah.” I bit into my lollipop and broke it.
“How’s cooking for yourself?” he asked. When I lived in the dorm, I always ate at the cafeteria and I never had to worry about it.
“Terrible. One of these days I’ll die of hunger.”
“You’re kidding, right?” He seemed genuinely worried.
“Of course I am! I’m fine, you idiot!”
“Okay. Well, talk to you tomorrow. Take care of yourself.”
“You too, Oliver.”
I hung up and stayed on the sofa until nightfall. I’d probably never been so aware of being alone. I looked at the phone and thought how ironic it was that I’d pushed out of my life the one person I trusted enough to share something that intimate. I dropped my phone on the side table, flopped down on the cushions, and stared at the ceiling, then closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
115
Axel
I went back to my routine. I got lost for hours in the waves, and when I came home, it was already midmorning, and I’d munch on whatever I had in the fridge. I only went to the gallery when I absolutely had to, but Sam did all she could to keep me busy, knowing that anything that filled a few hours was a relief. In the hours that remained, I tortured myself, thinking and drinking too much.
My mother showed up one Saturday morning without warning. That was the last thing I needed. I stepped aside to let her through and took off her hands the grocery bags she was carrying.