Page 54 of Stroked
The pit in my stomach started to subside as she pressed her lips to mine. I was so relieved that I was wrong, but my adrenaline was still coursing through me, so I pulled her close, letting my hand run down her stomach, making its way lower.
Amy grabbed my hand and pulled away from the kiss, though. The pit started to swell again.
“Amy, is everything okay?” My eyes flitted back and forth over hers, looking for a sign.
“Yeah, let’s sit. I just need to talk to you.”
The pit was growing quickly, and my palms felt clammy. I pulled my hand from hers and tucked my hair behind my ears. She tilted her head to the sofa, so I followed behind and went to sit.
It felt like the last time we had a serious conversation. Her on one corner, me on the other, a huge space between us. She was tense, her back straight as a board as she wrung her hands together.
“Valentina, look, I–”
“Amy, I don’t know what I did but I can work on it. I made a little progress, didn’t I? I told you I needed time and you said okay and–”
Amy scooted closer and grabbed my hand. “No, no.Shit. That’s not what this is. Calm down.” She pulled my hand to her lips and gently kissed my knuckles. “I need to tell you something that happened today, and I wanted to explain. I didn’t think over the phone would be a good idea, that’s all.”
While her words were meant to console me, they only confused me more. “Go on, then.”
She shifted a little, still grasping my hand. “Well, you know your mother had an exhibition at my gallery, so I have to speak to her sometimes.”
I nodded, but the pit had consumed my stomach and my shoulders felt as if they were at my ears.
“I had a meeting scheduled with her today. Customary, normal, routine stuff. We had to go over sales and talk about the show since we’re at the halfway mark. Again, very routine.”
“You didn’t tell me you had a meeting with her this week.” I pulled my hand from hers slowly.
“Like I said, it was meant to be quick and easy and I didn’t see the use in letting you worry over nothing all week.”
“You could have at least mentioned something about it this morning, no?”
Amy nodded. “In hindsight, yes. I should have mentioned it at some point. But I thought it would be quick and simple.”
“Clearly, it was not, or you would not be telling me now. So, tell me what happened.”
She shifted again; her hands clasped together tightly. She cleared her throat. “Your mother asked me to have the meeting over lunch and was very persistent. She is a client and my first large exhibition. I didn’t want to be rude, so I went.”
Blood rushed to my chest and face. I glared at her as I waited for her explanation.
“We discussed the show, the sales, all of that. Once I finally got a chance to take a bite of food, she startled me.” Her lips thinned into a line as her eyes darted everywhere but to me. “She…she asked me a lot of questions about being gay and how I told my parents.”
Unable to keep my composure, I stood, turning my back to her.
“Valentina, I–”
“No!” I shouted before I turned to look at her. “You spoke to her about this? You promised.” Breaths came short and fast, making my head spin.
Amy stood and approached me. “I didn’t say anything about you, I swear. But she knows I’m gay. If I didn’t answer her, it would have been worse. I know it. Please, just calm–”
Her hands were reaching to me as she spoke. Heat rushed through my veins, and I didn’t want her to put her hands on me. It all happened so fast. I went to block her, lost my footing, and bumped into the coffee table. There was a loud sound. A cracking sound.
I gritted my teeth, steadying myself, as she looked at the floor on the other side of the table. Her brows pinched together, and her lips were turned down. Her face made me second guess my anger, but only for a moment before the rage filled me again. I had to get away from her. I turned to walk around the coffee table and noticed the beautiful sculpture she made, lying in two pieces.
But I didn’t slow down. I made quick strides to the door, fumbling my bag in my hands as I snatched it from the counter on the way out.
Before I slammed the door behind me, I heard her whimper, “Valentina,” but I didn’t look back. Once I made it off the elevator, the tears that threatened to come out upstairs finally burst from my eyes.
Fumbling with my keys, I finally cranked the car and peeled away, not checking very carefully. I didn’t care. I had to get away from there and fast.
