Page 68 of Omega Artist
I used you as you used Girl. I used you as you did so many women. I used you as you used me… whether consciously or not. Months after we first met in person, you whispered three forbidden words for a commitment-phobe. Three words that broke our unspoken deal. That jumpstarted my awakening. That precipitated my departure.
All good things must come to an end, right?
You did call me the perfect woman for being as commitment-phobic as you, remember? I guess neither of us is perfect after all, but two wrongs don’t make a right, do they?
After reading this, some of you guys will still cast me as the bitch in the story. Stereotypes die hard, huh? I guess it was pointless after all, but at least, I stayed true to my word and my mission.
Sue me!
Chapter Twenty-Five
I’ve Never Been in Love Before
Aliénor
With a bittersweet grinon my face, I trudge towards the exit of the cancer ward. The results from my latest tests came in. All clear. I’d been worried lately due to recurring major headaches. A checkup was long overdue. I lived my carefree life in the U.S. to the fullest, so engrossed with the sexiest man alive that I put my potentially worrisome health condition on hold, just like I did my futile self-appointed mission. Not that I neglected my health—I may be blonde, but I’m not that stupid—I simply opted for a more relaxed approach. Coming back to France jumpstarted my numb consciousness. Regarding my current remission from breast cancer. Regarding my relationship with my online man of mystery. Regarding my suitor situation that Father insisted on settling once and for all.
“Thank you so much, Paul.” I hug him warmly.
The hearty nurse who’s been by my side since I set foot in this hospital isn’t much of a talker, though, and he certainly isn’t prone to PDA. He stiffens for a split second until he returns my unexpected embrace in the middle of the hospital entrance, and he doesn’t even blink. It’s so unlike him, as is his goodbye greeting. “By the way, Aliénor,” Yes, we’re finally on a first-name basis! “Your phoenix rocks.” My heart swells with pride. “This magical creature, this long-lived bird has the ability to cyclically regenerate or is otherwise reborn.”
Somehow, his words touch my heart, and my sharp intake of air doesn’t go unnoticed. “Thanks, Paul.” I loved the tattoo, but after returning to my normal routine, I’m having doubts. I think that my vacation scrambled my brain, unless my mission did. I shiver in an attempt to shake away my confusion.
Oblivious to my inner conflict, he releases me from his comforting arms. “If you ask me nicely, I’ll send you a picture of my back, where my gorgeous dragon reigns. Even though he’s fierce on the outside, the phoenix is almighty.” He winks playfully, and I gawk at his revelation. Then he shoots me a concerned look. “Anyway… do me a favor and bring back that spark I noticed that time before you fled the country, would you?”
I frown, then remember what he’s referring to. The first time that the tattooed artist texted me. The first time that I successfully got Tig’s attention. The first time that we played cat and mouse.
“I know it’s none of my business, but…” He hesitates. “You mentioned someone once. I said something about him helping you relax, remember?” I nod. “Not sure what happened there… Thatsomeoneisn’t Raphaël. Am I wrong?”
A flush of embarrassment travels from my head down to my toes before settling in my cheeks. I run my hand through my hair and realize that it’s growing back. “You’re very… perceptive,” is all I can come up with before my older sister barges in on us, apologizing for being late when I wasn’t expecting her at all; Sophie was supposed to pick me up. Paul and I say our hurried goodbyes. As much as I appreciate the guy, I hope that I won’t be seeing him anytime soon—aside from checking out his dragon, that is.
Bewildered by Sybil’s presence, I kiss her on the cheeks—very French!—and silently follow her to the parking lot like a well-trained puppy. I wait until she starts the car and we exit the premises to satisfy my curiosity.
I reach for my iPhone that’s stashed in my black purse and shuffle through my playlist. Billie Holiday’s melancholic voice matches my mood. “To what do I owe the honor, Sybil? I thought you said that you were crazy busy and I wasn’t going to see you ahead of your engagement party next week!”
Focused on the jam-packed Parisianpériphérique, she nods in approval at my choice of music. “As a matter of fact, I am rather occupied, little sister…” She switches lanes, and her spanking new blue Mini Cooper Countryman is rudely cut off by a motorcycle. She heaves out an exasperated breath that I hope is directed towards the aforementioned rider. “What was I saying?” She bites the bottom left corner of her lower lip, ruining her formerly perfect deep red lipstick. “Right… Well, I had to do something.”
“Do something?” I readjust the overly tight seatbelt, in desperate need to look anywhere but at her. “Why isn’t Sophie here anyway?”
“If you must know, Sophie contacted me after reading your latest blog.” I had no idea my BFF had my sister’s number, but let’s not get into that just yet… The glare that she sends my way has me sliding closer to the car door. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Aliénor?” my emotional sister screams and slams her fist on the wheel.
“Okay, calm down, will you? First, you curse. Next, you ask for justification… and then you use violence… Actually, what the fuck is wrong withyou?”
“Don’t play this game with me, sis. I love you with all my heart, but I can read you like an open book. Redirecting this conversation is useless. I’m the one asking the questions here. Seriously, what were you thinking? I didn’t need my own Avenger to soothe my broken heart!” She worries her lip some more, her eyes trained on the road. I regret that I can’t ignore her altogether and peacefully listen to Billie Holiday. “I’ll give you a heads up, since you don’t seem to remember how the story ended: it didn’t take me long to recover, thank you very much, and I met the wonderful man that I’m about to get engaged to.”
“I remember everything, Sybil, trust me.” I shoot her a sideways glance. Thank God she doesn’t return it. She can be worse than Father at times! “I beg to differ because, clearly, either Sophie’s feedback is wrong or you misread my post.” I swallow the lump that instantly formed with my last words and pause realizing what they imply.
Either way, she’s well aware of my mission involving her ex, Tig de Luca. Unfortunately, she wrongly believes that it’s about her. The consequences of my actions hit me. “Fuck… You must hate me.”
She makes atsknoise with her tongue to shush me. “You were saying that I misinterpreted your so-called mission. Please, explain.”
I lower the volume of the music. “It’s never been about revenge. I don’t hate men either, but I had to prove my point: the world applauds men for their sexual exploits when women are shamed for the same thing.”
“Yeah, I got that. But why Tig? What did he have to do with anything? You didn’t even know him!”
“It made perfect sense at the time. The feedback that society kept sending me compared to what you told me about how his friends acted with him triggered something inside me. I felt compelled to do whatever was in my power to make him my own personal scapegoat.” My lungs seize and I bite the inside of my cheeks to suppress the smile that began to form at the word “goat” and the fond memory it brings back. Damn, that weekend was fun and emotional… “The way things happened between the two of you confirmed that it’s okay for him to brag about how many women he fucks. Meanwhile, I’m called a slut for test driving men that I find attractive. Men that are always on the same page. Men that I don’t even brag about!”
“So let me get this straight: you were more pissed at his friends’ reactions than by his behavior.” I grumble in acceptance. “You were more pissed at our friends’ reactions than by his behavior.” I grumble again. “You were more pissed at the man’s world we live in than by his behavior.”
