Martha

Chapter 22 Betrayed

Chapter 22
Betrayed

It was so embarrassing to maneuver Martha off me while her brother chortled, watching us. Why? It wasn't the most hilarious situation, well, at least for me. If she was my sister, I would have definitely punched in the face the guy taking her over the piano.

I found no place to look, while buttoning my pants with trembling hands. My face already flushed, heat was all over burning on me with shame.

Martha rolled down her skirt, climbed down the piano and as if nothing had happened, she only hauled me by the hand out of her brother's sight.

"You've just given me an idea Ralphy!" Martha blinked, mischievously to her brother while he stood, staring at us, his lips curving half way up slightly.
"Come, I want to show you something!" Martha told me as she hurried with me up to the stairs.

"Hey, I was not talking seriously about the rooms upstairs... remember I'm still here!"

"You are such an idiot, Ralph!", Martha replied.

The woman guided me to the second floor. We ran through the same hall I ventured in just a couple of weeks ago. She took me into the painting room, amidst the tripods, other finished paintings and art materials to get us where she wanted, right next to the window, where the portrait she was making of me

My eyes widened to see it was finished. I was impressed. No wonder she was one of my favorite painters. Despite of having me as the model, it was an amazing work of art. There was me, standing in the middle of a cobblestoned street, wearing only a pair of jeans... shirtless and barefooted. I didn't know I looked that good and muscle built.

"You finally finished it!", I blurted out. My eyes widened to my own stupidity.

"Wait! What!", Martha was confused, darting at me with pry eyes.

"What?", I only repeated what she said... Damned! Why did I say that? Me and my big mouth... Did I really said that?

"You just told me that I've finished it... why?"

"Be- because... it looks quite finished to me." I was lost.

"Look, I'm not a girl... and I'm not stupid... How did you know of this portrait, Antonio?", Martha gave me a severe stare.

Ok, that was the time to be honest. I was not going to lose her just for a lie. She would definitely understand.

"Martha, listen. I can explain everything... I've seen this portrait before... Remember the day of the accident?"

"Impossible to forget."

"Well, The mailman just dropped the boxes and you were not home. He asked me to watch for them. When the mailman left, I tried the door to see if I could put the boxes inside... and the door opened..."

"And you entered the witch's haunted house and sneaked and peeked around to find out that I was not the supernatural and evil creature people in town thinks I am, but that you still believed... Am I wrong in my rationale?" Martha's eyes watered, waiting for a response she knew. I saw it in her expression, she felt betrayed and I was guilty of high treason. She looked at me with disappointment.

"Martha... look... I..." I tried to explain, but she immediately cut me off.

"Leave! Get out of my house! You are like the rest of the people in this hellish town. You have never  believed in me! You used me, that's all!" Martha sobbed.

"Martha, please." I begged.

"Leave!", she yelled at me.

I turned on my heels away, saying no more. While I left the room, I heard leaving Martha's whimpering. There was nothing I could say or do to make her believe to me. She was too hurt to listen. I wanted to make her understand she was wrong, but how, because she was not.

Ralph intercepted me by the stairs. "What happened?"

"I just screwed it up... again... Ralph, go with her. She needs someone to talk right now. I'm an imbecile. I hurt her... Got to go." I walked away.

I felt devastated. The thick lump formed in my throat make it hard to breathe.

Crestfallen, with heavy steps, I dragged myself towards my house. I was already in my porch when I heard a 'swoosh'. Something flew across the yard, landing a few steps to my left, on the green grass. In the way I got closer, there was no doubt of what it was: the portrait of me... I looked down abashed. That lump grew heavier in my throat almost asphyxiating me. The wooden skeleton of the canvas was broken... I picked it up and stared at the painting for a few seconds. Then I looked up to the window in the second floor in Martha's house. It was closed and the curtain rolled.

There was nothing I could do to fix the broken frame... Or Martha's torn apart heart, so I walked into my house crestfallen, feeling defeated.

Laying on my bed, I stared up to the ceiling thinking of poor Martha... this is why society has done to her. The beautiful lady was bullied by this whole damned town. Nobody wanted to meet her deeply, therefore she was misunderstood and mistreated... and me... I was as ruin and cruel as the rest of the town's people. I never gave Martha the opportunity of showing herself to me by her own... I just trespassed her privacy and her reliance on me in the moment I irrupted in her house.

And now I couldn't deny it: I was profoundly in love with Martha. This woman was enigmatic, mysterious, beautiful, sweet yet still unknown to me. She was a witch... yes! A sorceress that had enchanted me with her charms and natural beauty. Martha was simple, unpretentious... She was the smartest and most talented woman I've ever met. I knew nothing about her past, but I wanted to share my future with her. And now it was too late. I've lost her! Every step I've moved forward to get to her heart, I gave two steps backwards. And I was about to lose my track to get to her again.

I wondered... How small is the world. I always felt this connection with M. Higgins paintings. I dreamt as a scholar to ever go to his exhibitions and... I moved next to M. Higgins without even knowing, finding out he was a she... the most gorgeous she I've known by far... I fell in love with Martha Higgins... She painted a portrait of me and then hurled it at me. Now it was broken and hung on my wall. I know it sounded like a terrible fiction story. A very sad one with no happy endings in fact, and the worst of all this was that I didn't know I could love in the so intense way I loved Martha. How did all these happen? It's said that curiosity killed the cat. And I was more than dead. That was going to be a terrible and a long night.

Only memories of distant kisses and caresses drew in my mind... Sadness invaded me. And I fell asleep.