Page 52 of Pictures in Blue
“And just where have you two been?” asks Fran.
At the same time, Cordie asks in a suggestive tone, “What have you two been up to?”
“Hiking.”
Always with the one-word answers.
The Hudson in the woods has faded away and in his place is the grump of a man I met in the coffee shop the first day I came to town.No.I’m surprised that’s not the word he used, refusing to answer their questions. But, from what I have observed since I have been here, I know he has a soft spot for these two, especially Fran, so a little explanation is warranted on his part.
I slide off Hudson’s back to the left, careful not to land on my injured ankle. Unfortunately, being careful also means going slow and I feeleverything. The hardness of his back against my chest, his firm ass against the inside of my thighs, his hands never leaving my body even when I land on my foot. His left hand moves to my hip and remains there to help support me or just to touch me, I don’t know. I’m not complaining.
“Hudson took me hiking yesterday,” I explain. “We fell and I twisted my ankle, and we couldn’t make it back before dark, so we camped overnight and came back when we could. But I fell in the water this morning so my clothes were soaked and Hudson offered his shirt and then he carried me back because I couldn’t walk, and here we are.” The words tumble out of my mouth, a rock slide careening down the side of a mountain. I take a deep breath as the two women stare at us, their smiles still plastered on their faces, ever growing, if that’s even possible. Trouble is looming behind their eyes.
I turn to Hudson and lightly punch his arm. “So, uh, thanks for the hike and for seeing me back here safely and everything.” I hesitate, not sure how much to say or if I should say anything else. His green eyes bore into mine, a question looming there I’m afraid for him to ask.
“Welcome,” is all he says.
“I can, uh, take it from here.” I move out of his grip. He hesitates for a moment, tightening the hand on my hip before he lets go and turns to the door to leave without looking back.
Fran and Cordie haven’t moved their gazes from me. I give them a sheepish smile and start limping my way upstairs eager for a shower that’s not in the middle of the woods.
When I get to my room, I realize I am still wearing Hudson’s shirt and consequently, my damp clothes are still in his bag. As is all of my camera equipment.
Nice going, Avery.
The first day of staying away from each other and we are already failing. If it were just my clothes, I’d leave it alone. I have plenty in my suitcase. But Ineedmy equipment. It’s part of the reason I came here and it’s part of me. It took me ages to save up for all of it. Along with the paper, I worked at a local restaurant waiting tables and all the checks and tips I made from there went to my photography equipment. It took me almost a year to save enough to spend on camera gear, on top of all the bills I still had to pay. Which meant, unfortunately, I am going to have to go to Hudson’s place to retrieve it.
Lovely.
I grab my phone to send him a quick text, but am bombarded with messages, voicemails, and notifications when I turn it back on. I delete my mom’s voicemails without listening to them and ignore the emails from my boss that I will get around to answering later and pull up mine and Hudson’s text conversation. What should I say? The last time we texted, it was because I accidentally sent a picture of my feet. Well, my feet in shoes. Not feet pics. I don’t know his picture preferences, nor do I need to.
Hi, um, I forgot my camera equipment in your bag… Do you mind if I come by and get it later? I need it to take the photos I planned to take today and I have nothing else going on, so let me know if I can come grab it.
Delete.Way too long.
Hey, do you have my camera stuff? I think I forgot to grab it.
I hold down the backspace and watch the letters disappear from the screen. I’m overthinking this.
You have my camera equipment.
I hit send before I can once again over analyze the message, ignoring the three dots that show up on the screen. I toss my phone on the chaise underneath the window, but have to retrieve it a second later when a FaceTime call lights up the screen as soon as it lands. I had a feeling she’d be calling soon considering half of the messages I didn’t respond to are hers.
I swipe to answer the call. “Hey, Charlotte.”
“OMG, where have you BEEN?” she yells. “I thought you were dead. I finally just called the inn and Cordie said you went hiking yesterday and hadn’t come back. What the hell, Ave! Why didn’t you take your phone with you? That’s like hiking 101!” She yells.
I feel a twinge of guilt at the idea of making her worry so much. I didn’t think about letting her know where I was going and how I might not answer. I just wanted a day when I didn’t hear from Sharon or have to think about her.
“I’m sorry. Sharon called yesterday and I just wanted a day away from my phone so Hudson took me hiking and I twisted my ankle and we got stuck and—”
“WHAT?” she yells, cutting me off.
“I said I—”
“No, nononono, Iheardwhat you said. And first of all, fuck Sharon. She’s the worst and I don’t get why you let her manipulate you and make you feel like shit. Cut the head off the snake and leave her behind. I’ve been telling you this.”
And she has. Ever since Sharon dropped by my apartment when Charlotte was there and not so subtly criticized everything in it, including me, she has made it her mission to get me to cut Sharon off. I don’t know why I can’t let go. I know she’s not the greatest person, but she’s still my mother and that counts for something, right? Part of me just doesn’t know anymore and having a relationship with her is becoming more difficult. She makes it difficult. No matter what I do, I’m never the daughter she wants me to be.
