Chasing River: Chapter 26 – Old Flames Die Hard

Old Flames Die Hard

THERE IN THE box lay four paintings I’d never seen before, I didn’t recognize the brush stroke and I immediately knew they did not come from River’s hand. The first a side profile of River looking up at the night sky, constellations drawn where his pupils ought to be. I wondered if that was what the artist truly saw, stars in his eyes. The second was a close-up of his lips and it was undeniably sensual, the curve of his Cupid’s bow painted so accurately you’d think it was an exact reflection, full and tinted rose.

The third was of his back, the rushing water is drawn in place of his spine, running all the way down. Every muscle, every freckle drawn in almost perfect detail. The fourth was of two hands intertwined.

The last was the one that truly caught my eye, it was a faceless nude portrait and at first, I’d assumed it wasn’t him but when I saw that exact flower petal-shaped birthmark I’d run my fingers over the night we made love just below his hip, I knew, it could’ve only been a lover who knew his body so well. It could’ve only been a lover who’d seen every inch of him, who would have managed to capture his very essence with every stroke of their brush. And then I wondered, with how incredibly reserved River was which woman he would’ve let do so and whose paintings he would’ve kept so hidden from the world.

Then I saw it, the engraving on the side of the box that I’d failed to make out that night, my heart stopped as I ran my fingers over the silver lettering.

RJKM, no it couldn’t be, I had to have been imagining it all. I froze as the lettering made sense in my mind, River, Jace, Kennedy, Monet: a combination of their initials. I flipped the painting over and read the little writing on the back, a handwriting I once again didn’t recognize.

I remembered when I was eleven and I fell off of the feeble branches of the Willow tree in my backyard, the fall made me feel dizzy and faint but the impact as I hit the ground knocked every last breath out of my lungs, I felt like I couldn’t breathe and I just lay there for a while in silence because I didn’t want to get up and face the fact that I couldn’t swing on that branch anymore. I felt just the same at that moment, I didn’t know why I was crying I just was. Because what I thought at that very moment was in fact the truth, and I wasn’t just making assumptions that would mean a reality I wasn’t ready to face just yet.

I found a collection of letters bound by thread, I opened up a few of the envelopes and read through them.

I then remembered that he could come home any minute so I placed the paintings and letters back in the box in the exact same order they were before and locked the box. I hid it back in its hiding place beneath the floorboards and got out of the art room as fast as I could. I was pacing, back and forth as tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I was frustrated, I knew it was wrong but I felt cheated in a way and lied too. But that was the thing, technically he never lied to me, he just concealed the truth really well and thought that hiding it away in a little box would make it go away.

I was mad at myself, and I was starting to wish I didn’t let curiosity get the best of me and I hated to admit it but, I wished I never found that box. I wished he would’ve told me all by himself.

I lay in bed awake staring at the ceiling waiting for him to come home, and when he finally did I shut my eyes and pretended I was asleep. When he kissed my lips in the dead of night and whispered, Reste s’il te plaît. Please stay. I knew that it was true what he’d said, we were one, and I knew that I’d never be able to escape him, he was etched into my bones, his very essence ran through my blood and I only wished that he could understand that nothing would ever change the way I felt about him.

And then I watched him sleep that night, and as I did I wondered how Jace probably did before me and I wondered if he saw all the things I saw when I looked at him. Did he notice the rise and fall of his every breath? did he notice the way his hair was lighter at the tips and fell over his eyelids? Did he know him like I did- inside and out like the back of my very own hand? What hurt the most was that he did, and I knew that deep down I could never compare and that I never would.

The next morning I decided that I was going to lose my mind if I didn’t talk to someone about this soon, but I didn’t want it to be any of the friends we shared because regardless of whether it was true or not it would inevitably do more harm than good. So I decided to get out early in an attempt to avoid any unwanted questions from River and head over to the other side of town to visit the one person who knew everything about everyone and most importantly knew how to keep her mouth shut, the marvel, the mystery- Victoria King.

I held my coat close to my body as I knocked on her front door furiously, I knew her parents were rarely home. When she answered the door she looked half awake, her long dark hair loose and cascading down her shoulders and her cheeks tinted with sleep.

‘It’s seven in the morning.’ She groaned and clearly, she was not a morning person,

‘I need to talk to you.’ I insisted but her expression remained the same,

‘It’s seven in the morning.’ She repeated and I rolled my eyes,

‘It’s important!’ I pleaded one last time before she agreed and let me in.

We were sitting on the floor by her fireplace with coffee in hand spiked with her father’s most expensive bottle of a 1985 bourbon. I remained silent for a while because I had absolutely no idea how to even start this conversation, it wasn’t like I could just jump out and say hey I think my boyfriend was in love with his dead best friend. Victoria intently read my expression before hers shifted to an all-knowing glare.

‘You finally figured it out didn’t you?’ She asked with a sly grin, her full lips disappearing into the heat of her coffee mug,

‘I- I- what?’ I stammered not knowing what she was talking about,

‘This is no time to play coy with me little bird. I was wondering just how long it would take you to finally wake up from this perfect little dream and open your eyes.’ Victoria sighed, ‘So how did you find out about them?’

Victoria scared me sometimes with how good she was at reading people, most especially at reading me. It was like she had a bachelor’s degree in psychology or something.

‘I found these, these very intimate paintings and suddenly all these little pieces of information I’d gotten over time started to fit together,’ I explained, and she gave me a sad smile. Victoria had told me that she knew Jace very well and that they were close so that was the only reason that I asked, ‘so it’s true then, isn’t it?’

‘Jace never outright said it to me, but I knew when I threw myself at him and he rejected me that there had to be stronger forces at work.” She joked, and then her expression turned serious. “I wish you came sooner and saw the way they were with each other, Armani, it was unlike anything I’d ever seen in film or theatre, it was like poetry come to life. I swear I’d never seen two people who were as cut from the same cloth as they were, it was like they spoke a language only they could understand and at first, I too wasn’t sure- until I saw them once.’

“Saw them?” I wondered.

She paused, her eyes turned to the fireplace and it was like melting honey in her eyes as she reminisced, ‘It was after midnight at the academy, I was hoping to finish a piece of mine. The door to the art room was slightly open but I only caught a glimpse of hands tangled in hair, careful embraces and skin on skin.’

‘And you knew all this time and you didn’t say anything to me?’ I asked slightly irritated,

‘You haven’t the right to be angry with me, it was not my secret to tell.’ Victoria declared and she was right, it wasn’t.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ I confessed, ‘does this mean he doesn’t really want me? I don’t want to be his distraction.’

‘Armani, have you ever dared to consider the fact that maybe what he had with Jace and what he has with you are two completely different experiences?’ Victoria foretold, ‘what if he has space in his heart for both?’

‘What if he does not?’ I retorted,

‘Oh, but what if he does?’ Victoria insisted and I paused for a second to think about it, perhaps she was right.

‘So what exactly is he then, sexuality is a spectrum and I need to know where he falls under it.’ I contemplated,

‘Armani babe, you’re asking all the right questions to the wrong person. I am not River, you should be having this discussion with him.’ She said placing her hand on mine,

‘You’re right I’ll just ask him-‘ I suggested attempting to get up but she pulled me right back down,

‘Are you out of your bloody mind?’ She laughed, ‘you can’t just go up to him and out him like that, you can’t just straight up ask him if he’s gay or not you have to go easy on him. Do you know how to do that?’ She asked and I paused, do I?

‘I- I think I do,’ I said and she kissed me on the cheek,

‘Be patient with him, little bird, don’t let him fly away.’ She sighed just as I noticed someone wandering out of her kitchen wearing a pink floral nightgown, holding a bowl of ice cream and wearing fluffy slippers, my jaw dropped.

‘Fabian?’ I gasped and he dropped his spoon,

‘Armani!’ He greeted awkwardly and Victoria cursed under her breath,

‘You two- are- oh my God.’ I laughed and I could see her cheeks flush, Victoria fucking King was blushing.

‘I promise I wanted to tell you I just didn’t know how, it’s just that ever since the Halloween party his annoying arse has- I don’t know- grown on me?’ She confessed shyly,

‘I assure you, you owe me zero explanations.’ I said getting up, ‘I know what to do, thank you.’

That was way too many surprises for one day.

I made my way downtown to the public library and took a look at a few books to do with sexuality and how and how not to bring up the conversation. As a straight woman, I didn’t exactly know what it was like to even doubt myself, I knew I’d had it easier than him and I was trying my best not to fuck things up. Admittedly I was quite the scatterbrain and I tried my best to slow down for him. Once an hour or so went by I decided that that was enough for the day and I went back to my dorm to think for a while.

I found Keomi studying at her desk and she greeted me with a hug, she told me about how she felt like she never got to see me anymore since River and I got together and I knew she was right and I felt like a bad friend and roommate.

‘I’m sorry I’ve been so caught up lately, I promise to be there for you more from now on,’ I promised and she smiled,

And then when I saw the Gone Girl book on her desk I remembered the very first photo I saw of them that I’d found in there when I was looking for quotes. And that’s when it clicked.

‘Keomi bare with me, I’m about to sound crazy.’ I sighed and she gave me a confused look, ‘but can I please borrow that picture of you guys at the Eiffel Tower that I found that one time?’

‘What- why do you need it?’ She asked, grabbing it from her photo album in her drawer, and handing it to me.

‘I just want to show it to River,’ I answered.

‘Please don’t lose it.’ She insisted and I took another look at it.

Oh God I should have known, the smudges of blue paint all over Jace is the exact same shade of paint as on River’s cheek, and arm and bottom lip. Every sign was there staring me right in the face but I chose to see what I wanted to see, I chose to remain in that dream reality where I was the only one for him, Victoria was right.

I made my way back to River’s apartment and he took forever to let me up the elevator, which was strange considering I knew that he was home. When he did I made my way inside and he was standing by the kitchen counter with the box on it. My heart stopped and I realised then that he knew, somewhere somehow I went wrong and he knew I found it. His expression was unreadable but his eyes were enraged and held a significant amount of frustration.

‘Pourquoi ne pouvez-vous pas simplement respecter ma vie privée?’ Why couldn’t you just respect my privacy? He asked in French, he only spoke to me in French like that when he was really upset and couldn’t control it.

‘I’m sorry it’s just- I knew you weren’t telling me everything and my curiosity got the best of me,’ I muttered not knowing what to say to make things any better,

‘Et avez-vous trouvé ce que vous cherchiez?’ His voice was low and his tone was furious, And did you find what you were looking for?

‘River listen I don’t care who you were with before me even if it was another guy-‘ I began but he stepped forward and cut me off,

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ He refuted, his eyes are were longer angry, they looked….sad.

‘You don’t have to lie to me.’ I insisted, ‘I understand.’

‘No, you don’t and you never fucking will.’ He yelled and I took a step back,

‘I can try.’ I suggested, my voice came out small, and I could feel the tears begin to well in my eyes, ‘you didn’t have to lie to me.’

‘And you didn’t have to look through my belongings without telling me.’ He accused, his voice laced with denial and bitterness,

‘Wait River…Are you mad because of how I found out or because I found out?’ I chastised and he paused looking away at the balcony like he was trying not to cry, ‘oh my God…you were never going to tell me were you?’

‘It doesn’t matter, stop making things up.’ He choked and I tried to take a step closer towards him,

‘I haven’t even said anything yet.’ I reminded him because he was already panicking,

‘You don’t know about him, you don’t know about us and I never ever lied to you Armani. You- you just never bothered to ask, I let you assume what you wanted to.’ He spoke and his voice cracked and I could see his eyes rimmed with red and my heart broke,

‘Why didn’t you feel like you could tell me?’ I cried,

‘I wasn’t going to care-‘

‘But I do, I care it wasn’t your story to tell, it’s mine and it was his and you took that away from me!’ A tear fell from his eye and down his cheek, ‘you had no right to do this.’

‘River, I’m sorry.’ I apologised and he shut his eyes as more tears fell and he couldn’t control them anymore. I hated myself for doing this to him, I should’ve waited for him.

‘Just go.’ He said, his tone cold.

‘But I-‘ I began but he stopped me,

‘Je ne peux pas faire ça maintenant,’ He said, I can’t do this right now, ‘just leave.’

I took the photo out of my pocket and placed it on the table in front of him. ‘Blue paint,’ I said.

He wanted me to leave and so I did.

I can’t automatically make it so that you understand just how much they meant to each other, because the matter of the fact is that I was not there. But what I can do is take things back. To understand the origins of their story, we have to go back, two days before the accident. July 14th 2010.

The day before everything came crashing down.