Page 28 of Unmoored

This painting is a quirky explosion of colour: an apartment building with huge higgledy-piggledy windows, each apartment reflecting its own family’s lively character. If you took Sunrise Island and transplanted it to a Vancouver high-rise… it’s almost the right vibe. It’s not as personal, but it won’t bring the mood down.

“There.” I step back, casting an eye across the living room. Just as I dig out my phone to snap a photo, it starts buzzing in my hand. Shit, Murph isn’t cancelling, is he?

But one look at the caller ID deflates all my nerves and then some.

George.I grimace. But there’s only one way to know what he wants, so I tap the answer button.

Before I can even say a word, George starts talking. “Eden, Eden, Eden,” he drawls in that used car salesman voice. “You about ready to come to your senses? You’ve cost me so much money, you know.”

Is he slurring his words? I wrinkle my nose, checking the time on my phone and rolling my eyes. It’s not even five o’clock yet. But then, he’s a big fan oflongclient lunches at the best of times.

“Really?” I snap. “You’re really calling to ask that?”

He laughs obnoxiously. “Yeah. I bet you’d last a day on that stupid thing. We’re in between JJ or Chip’s bets right now, but…” he gives a long-suffering sigh, “I’ll swallow the loss.”

The only reason I haven’t said anything yet is because I’m counting backwards from ten, my teeth clenched.

Four, three, two?—

With every passing day, I feel more like myself—myrealself, not just the parts I think George will like the most. And he’s not going to like what’s coming.

“It’s starting to feel like home, actually,” I interrupt whatever he’s in the middle of saying. “More than your apartment ever did, because it’sreallymine. Now, why the hell are you calling me?”

George’s laughter dies off. “Wh-Huh?” Then he huffs with irritation. “Eden. You’re not making this easy. I’mgivingyou thechanceto come home. Just take the deal.”

Ugh. I knew it. Between his daddy’s money and his own oily charm, George always gets what he wants. But it’s finally time to tell him what I should have said all those months ago.

“George,” I tell him, as sharp as I’ve ever been with him. “If that’s what you want, I’m only going to say this once.”

He catches his breath with so much hope that I’d almost feel sorry for him. “Uh huh?”

“Fuck. Right. Off.”

I’m counting the seconds of silence. We’re at eight so far.

Nine, ten, eleven?—

“B-But…” George finally stutters. “But you love me.”

Boy, does he have some balls. I bark a laugh, wiping a hand down my face. “God. No, George. I really don’t. I don’t know whether I ever did… but I know for sureyounever lovedme.”

“But—”

“We’re done. You missed your chance.”

Another long pause, with only the sound of George’s breathing getting louder and louder.

Shit. Wait. Is he crying?

However mean-spirited George can be, he’s always just reminded me of a lost little boy. And however much I can tease people and rile them up, I don’t have a cruel bone in my body. My forehead creases and I sigh, half-formed apology already on my lips.

“Seriously?” George snarls.

Shit. I can’t believe I almost fell for that trick. But my heart is sinking like a stone at the sound of his pre-rant voice. Sure enough, here he goes.

“Nobody else will treat you this good. They can’t do everything for you that I can. You need me, we both know that. You need someone to look after you?—”

“So that you can have abackup option?” I cut him off. Whatever sympathy he almost conjured up is gone. I’m not playing nice anymore. “If you really gave a shit about me, you’d start by grovelling. Not trying to persuade me that I’m worthless without you.”

---