Page 55 of Portrait of A Lost Artist
?CHAPTER NINETEEN
VERONICA
“It’s not internet illusion...just two kids going through it. You said I’m too late to be your first love but I’ll always be your favorite.”- Because I Liked a Boy by Sabrina Carpenter.
HE AWAKENS ME IN DREAMS; FRUIT TOO FAR TO BE TASTED, AS HIS FINGERS TANGLE IN MY HAIR TO PRESS A CHASTE KISS TO THE CROWN ON MY HEAD.When I open my eyes, lost in the dream, I get a glimpse of him, and my heart beats with enough force to actually take me out of my delusions. It happened once, then it repeated. Like a game of sleep paralysis that mocks me for still feeling, in the depths of a soul that hasn’t healed, love towards Nathan Calderwood.
This is why, by the time Ezequiel arrives in a Range Rover so expensive it could cover Aseré’s taxes for its entire remaining lifespan in Havana, I’ve only managed three hours of sleep. I couldn’t bring myself to fall back asleep, haunted by the thought of seeing him. This recurring enigma of him infuriates me; the idea of our meeting, even just texting him, has flickered in my mind since I knew I’d be visiting Zeke in California, but it’s been so long...
And I hadn’t even been brave enough to open a tab on the internet and just look him up. Because I know, somewhere online, I would likely find an article that would tear apart the significance of what we once shared. Or perhaps I’d stumble upon a piece that would diminish its importance. Maybe he has moved on completely. The thought alone makes nausea churn in my stomach.
Despite my exhaustion, I rub at my eyes and carefully crook the ends of my lashes upwards, using Zeke’s car mirror as my guide. “You’ve never been a big fan of art. What made you want to go to a museum?”
He’s retrieving into a corner, going to portions of California that I hadn’t even heard about. I lived in the States for a while, but Texas was entirely different from this sunbathed place.
When his hands stop roaming the steering wheel, he answers. “...It was my only way of having a portion of Havana with me. You’re one of my best memories there, after all.”
I decide to joke around a bit to get my mind off things. “Memory. As if I’m dead or something.”
“You’re so dramatic. I’ve been away from you for two years!”
“And?”
“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you haven’t missed me even the slightest bit.” He cocks his head, fluttering his eyelashes with the exaggerated charm of a coquettish woman from the sixties. “This is the point when you give me a side-hug and tell me you’ve missed me lots.”
I press my head to his shoulder, feeling him rest his own on top of it as a soft chuckle leaves my lips. “I was afraid of coming here.” It feels natural, almost instinctive, to finally voice what has been gnawing at my soul for the past few months. When he first suggested we meet again, I pushed the idea away as instinctively as swatting a bug on a summer day. “...I haven’t been myself for so long and I’m so sorry for not being there to support you in your truest dream.”
Zeke sighs loudly, pulling away from me and entering a grand parking lot. “I left when you were at your lowest. I think I’m truly the one at fault here.” He admits, working swiftly to park his car. “But...you’ll get back on track. Your real self will come back and when she does, it will feel like a million pieces coming back together and it’ll all make sense. One always comes back stronger.”
Somewhere along the line, I’d forgotten that I once saw Zeke as someone who defied the norm. He seemed to overcome the ingrained stigma in Havana of becoming the traditional head of a family and embracing the discomfort of a typical man’s life: a wife settling for little and children dissatisfied with their circumstances.
“When did you get this smart, Zeke?”
He pushes at my shoulder, grunting. “I’ve always been smart.”
“You rarely show it and I forgot about it.”
“That’s just your little friend telling you her version of me.” The dagger he throws has me swallowing thickly, albeit a bit nervously. Zeke’s and Alessia’s issues have gotten me in between them, and I could not be more glad that they are far, very far away.
“Alright, you’re not pulling me into your little love story that no one, including me, knows about.” Lifting both hands, I give my outfit a final appraisal. Though I’m carrying a bit more weight than before, I’ve aimed for my best look. I’m wearing black pants and a low-cut black top, topped with a striking bone-white leather jacket.
“Oh, come on, as if Alessia doesn’t—”
I conjoin my fingers to shush him, humming when he zips his lips. “We’re enjoying tonight without talking about love, relationships or—”
“But we—”
“Zeke!”
“Alright, I understand! Get off my car, woman.”
I must have spoken too soon.
