Page 54 of Omega Artist
“You, too.”
Chapter Nineteen
Shape of My Heart
Aliénor
Following a two-hour shopping spree,Eileen and I sprint into the closest place that we can find to rest our legs for a bit. We met after lunch and have been shopping and chatting nonstop ever since. It turns out that she’s had a rollercoaster of a personal life and is currently on ex-husband number three. Thankfully, her marriage debacles haven’t left her bitter, but rather sex-deprived, divorced, and filthy rich.
I wince when the closing door shoots a gust of bone-chilling air at our backs, but happily smile back at the bulky fifty-something bartender situated behind the small Irish pub’s counter.
“Welcome, lovelies. You two must be freezing. Come on in!” The guy ushers us with a theatrical gesture.
Eileen humsLet It Gofrom theFrozensoundtrack, which makes him chortle. “Perfect!” she exclaims as he escorts us to seats adjacent to a heater. Meanwhile, I hang both of our winter coats on the nearby wooden peg. Exhausted, I collapse into one of the comfy low-rise armchairs that flanks the round wooden table. “My feet are killing me.” From all the walking. From all the back-and-forth inside the stores. From all the standing while waiting for Eileen to try on things with outrageous price tags.
“I just couldn’t resist those sales!”
I chuckle at her enthusiasm that hasn’t seemed to have subsided since we parted ways at the airport about a month ago; time definitely flies! I’m in a good mood, so I simply reply, “I know, right!” Her carefree roar of laughter is refreshing. I like her.
When I first met her on the plane, I was in a different place in my life. Angry at my overbearing father. Angry at my judgmental environment. Angry at my sister’s tattooed obsession. This change of scenery has been incredibly beneficial for my sanity.
“I had a blast.” Large designer bags are scattered on the floor around us. “I mean, I know I said it earlier, but I’m glad we got to meet up.”
“Likewise, Alie. I should’ve arranged it sooner, but I got so caught up in other things that I forgot to text you like I promised. It’s a good thing I extended my stay!”
“Don’t worry about it. I could have reached out, and I didn’t either…” I trail off and pat her forearm.
“Mmm… I’ve waited long enough. Now spill the beans.” Eileen’s eyes zoom in on mine. “Tell me everything about your man!” Blushing, I gawk at her for a second. “I assume that things progressed, right?” she presses, with her voice high-pitched.
“Let me go to the bar and order first, okay?”
She beams approvingly. “I’m pretty sure he’ll be back to take our order, but I’ll allow your diversion for the time being… Then, you’ll give me the scoop on this mysterious young man.”
I scratch my short hair, shrug, and stroll away. “Deal… and FYI, he’s not that young!” With that, I leave her hanging for a moment before coming back with our beverages of choice.
“Sooo… you found yourself a sugar daddy, Alie?”
Her assumption is so preposterous that the first sip of my Kilkenny barely makes it past my lips before I fly into hysterics and risk spitting it all over her makeup-free face.
So much for the well-behaved daughter that Father tried to raise!
In between gulps, I divulge information regarding my relationship—or whatever it is—with an older man. An older man who’s in impressive shape. An older man whose experience with the female anatomy is a blessing. An older man who’s in his thirties. How excited I was when we finally met face-to-face. How intrigued I was by his unexpected gentlemanly ways andsweetmanners. How pleased I was to put our undeniable chemistry to the test, even though his ink bothered me. Seeing it in the flesh took my disgust to a whole new level... At first.
Frighteningly, none of it is a lie. It sends a chill down my back that I blame on the cold, but I know better.
Eileen leans closer, taking my hand in hers, and implores, “Show me a picture of him!” Her first beer is gone and has been replaced with another thanks to the flirtatious bartender. Until he leaves us, I bury my nose in my drink to avoid observing something that I find both cute and embarrassing.
“What?” I shake my head no at the silly demand. “I don’t have any! And even if I did…” I wouldn’t want anyone to see a picture of him anyway; he’s nobody’s business but mine. Granted, I’ve been taking notes here and there to document my own sensations. To document his words. To document this fabricated relationship… and inevitably feature the highlights on my blog. But, for now, he has to stay secret.
“Why not?” She looks genuinely startled. “How come you don’t have any? I thought that people your age were obsessed with selfies and pics! What’s he like then?”
A gloriously naked Tig flashes in front of my eyes and I blush, casting my eyes downward. I can’t tell her that, lately, Tig and I have mostly focused on screwing. “Let’s put it this way: he’s sexy in the strangest of ways.”
Her fingers lift my chin. “He sounds like an interesting specimen.”That’s an understatement…“All the more reason to capture a souvenir and send it my way!”
“Really?”
“Of course! I’d love to see the man that modern technology brought you.” Soon enough, we’re discussing my initial fear of online dating, and I provide details on how we grew closer after I commented on some posts of his paintings. “I see…” Her hands circle her glass. “I have a few social media accounts that I use to keep in touch with my relatives. But it shows a fabricated version of what’s going on in someone’s life. It doesn’t seem genuine to me.”
