Over a week into the disillusionment of Blake's optimism, and she could not shake the nausea. Blake had not seen him in all this time. He broke things off, and he said goodbye to their daughter. It did not feel as if he had said goodbye to Blake. The word may have been said, but even that was unlikely. Blake heard it in every movement of his body. The reluctance to touch at all, the removal of his ring. His general absence.
They should have been on that trip for a week. The 11th until the 18th. A cruise for which everyone had updated passports. Little Zelda even had one. Rosie and Zelda's passage on the trip had been nullified, and Kiefer was able to transfer Blake's seat to Mary. Blake was friendly with most of the employees under Kiefer. Tattoo artists and piercers on staff at A Taste of Ink or Body Image. The public did not know what was happening. Friends and family knew enough. Tabloids were spared because Blake's star was not yet a supernova. Blake allowed friends to manage errands and outings so that her presence without Kiefer was minimally known. Employees were different.
Why did someone had to cover Mary's appointments? Blake could have died. Chico was burning up the charts, and Cure for Apathy was climbing. Jamie was happy despite himself. Blake followed Miranda's social media. Randi was so proud of her man. Emo Girl what? Travis Barker who? Despite the difference of instrument, Randi managed to hype a thousand percent. Her man was a member of Pink Slip. Blake couldn't post. Carla posted sparingly. Blake saw it all. Everyone was celebrating the success while her life fell apart.
Blake set her hands on the keys. White base, black accents. Each tone special. Each stroke was a feeling, a thought, a statement. A slight touch made the instrument cry out. Her fingers were silent. Beside her stood an unread test. Settled in layers of facial tissue on the piano bench. She wanted to play. Blake needed to play. She imagined herself lifting fingers and slamming them back down. Nothing happened. Even as she imagined, it was silent. No gothic orchestra, no dramatic organ praying for sympathy. She saw the movements, but the sound never came.
Seconds turned to minutes, and Blake memorized the shape of her fingernails. The chipped wedding manicure had been lazily covered with drug store black polish. Each point threatening violence to those nearby. Tiny tattoos on ringless fingers teased her. A skull. A bow. Happier days. She would have gotten his name printed on her cheek if he stayed.
Blake watched the invisible line on her left ring finger. A line had been there. An indention to show the presence of a ring for many months. Skin smoothed over if not restricted. The resting place, the permanent home, of a jeweled metal band. That precious band had been removed. Slipped off of Blake's finger like removing an organ.
She did not want to check. The keys were mute to her, but the tissue was poison. Don't, came as quick as do it already. Blake imagined a half dozen times that she had already checked the results. Reality was an illusion. Facts were intangible. She could not think.
Blake text to Carla: I love you.
A timestamp sat by the message. Blake grabbed the bundle of treachery and wiped it off. She held it in front of her face. Eyes closed so tight she might hurt herself. Her whole face scrunched. This was wrong. Of course. It was anxiety. It had been two months.
Two lines.
No. Her vision blurred. She cleared it. Two lines. Her sight glossed over like rapid freeze. Again. Two lines. Two damned lines. Blake resolved to take another before getting one done with a doctor. This could not be. Her life could not endure. Fate could not be so cruel.
YOU ARE READING
Beginning of the end
Cerita PendekBlake loves him very much. She has loved him for years. How can she not love the father of her child, her fiance? There are bumps and bruises along the way, but Blake is sure that in the end, when they get married, it will all be alright. It has to...
