Rays of Hope

Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Avery’s POV

It was the next morning, and I was still seething in anger at the man’s arrogance. To calm down, I decide to go back to the park, to work on more of my sketches. I begin digging through my bag, only to find that my sketchbook is missing! I must have dropped it in my haste to leave Ray at the coffee shop.

Quietly growling under my breath, I leave my room to go see what was edible in the refrigerator. Opening the door, I peek inside, and sigh when I see that the only food inside is a half gallon of orange juice and a small container of rice. I shut the refrigerator door, pull on my socks that I had been holding in my hands, and sit at the table that I had in the kitchen.

Pulling out my wallet, I thumb through the cash I had left. I let out another sigh of defeat when I notice that there is barely enough to last through a week of groceries.

It’s just then that I hear a knock on the door. I wonder who it could be, as I stand up out of my seat and answer it.

It could not surprise me more to see Ray standing at my apartment door.

****

I glance over at Ray, who was seated on my beat up couch. I was so embarrassed that he was seeing my living space. He was rich and famous, which meant that he was probably looking at my home in disgust. I could practically see his nose scrunch up with distaste.

Standing up, Ray asks me if he could have a drink of water. To this, I mutely nod in his direction and he stands up, headed for the kitchen.

From my seat in the living room, I hear the door to my refrigerator open and then I hear a small noise that seemed to have come from the back of his throat.

Coming back into the living room, Ray throws my tattered jacket onto my lap with an unusual, almost caring expression on his face.

Puzzled, I ask, “Where are we going?”

He nods towards my apartment doorway, before telling me “Your refrigerator is practically empty! I’m taking you out for lunch. My treat, obviously.”

I know he might not have meant for that to be as rude as he made it sound, but it kind of hurt when he reminded me how empty my fridge actually was.

Starting to protest, I stood up to face him, but he held a hand up to stop me, and I knew that I needed to eat.

We head out the door and begin the walk to an unknown destination. I don’t know where he’s taking me but I really hope he won’t spend too much on me.

When we finally get there, I realize that the restaurant is very expensive. It makes me uncomfortable, for not only is it a waste of money, I am not dressed properly to be in a place like this, and I hate the thought of all the money he is now going to spend on me.

After being led to a table by a waiter, I slide into the curved metal chair across from Ray and nervously twist my fingers together. He sits down smoothly, as if he goes to restaurants like this all the time. Which he probably does, with the money he must make. Looking over the menu, I plan to select the cheapest dish. As if he knew my plan to get the cheapest thing on here, he removes the menu from my grasp, and asks me what I want to eat.  With nothing to look at, I tell him that I want a nice burger. It will fill me up and would give me my needed protein and vegetables.

Ray grins at me from across the table, and gestures to the waiter, signalling that we are ready to place our orders. We place our orders, and then sit in comfortable silence. Me, doodling on my napkin with the pen I found at the bottom of my purse, and him, sending emails to his editor.

When our food arrives, we dig in.

****

After lunch, Ray shocks me by taking me to the park. It was then I realize that I had seen him while I had been drawing that day. He smiles at me, as if remembering the same thing.

We had been hanging out together for hours, and night was slowly beginning to fall. 

Walking side by side, we finally talk. Ray is the first to speak, by proposing we play twenty questions, in order to get to know each other. Agreeing, Ray begins by asking me the first question.

“How old are you?”

I let out a laugh. “You should never ask a woman her age,” I tease before giving him my answer. “I’m twenty one.”

“Oh, uh sorry,” he blushes awkwardly, any of the “charm” that he had with women vanishing.

However his “charm” reappears when he smirks, “You don’t look a day over twenty.”

I giggle, before asking him a question. “How old are you?”

“You should never ask a man his age,” he teases back. Then he smiles, “I’m twenty six.” He turns to me and asks another question.

“Do you go to college?”

“Yes I do,” I reply with a proud smile. “I’m an art major at the local community college.” I know that it wasn’t fancy, but the fact that I was in college, paying my own way, made me proud. “How many books have you published?” I ask him.

“Well that’s good that you’re studying something you’re obviously good at. And I’ve published one book, only one. It’s really popular right now.” Even though that’s good news, he seems kind of sad when he says this. But he quickly recovers and asks me another question.

“Were you raised here?”

“I’m from New York,” I reply, “But not this part. I moved closer to the college I could afford so I wouldn’t have to pay for boarding there.”

Then I ask him, “When did you start writing?”

He smiled at this question, a big one, almost a grin. “I started when I was about ten. I grew up with a messed up life so I started writing and it helped me get away from reality.

“When did you start drawing?”

“It’s not just drawing,” I tell him. “It’s also sculpting, paint, clay, and metal work,” I say, showing him the blisters on my fingers. These were proof of my hard work. “I started with drawing when I was very young. It helped me cope with things.” As I was saying this, I let out a humongous yawn.

Ray smiled down at me again. “Time to take you home?” he asks me.

I look up, and am surprised that I am actually sad that this night is over. Covering another yawn with my hand I say, “Yes, I think it’s time for me to get some rest.”

He reaches for my hand, and I am shocked to feel his fingers intertwine through mine. Looking up at his face, I notice that he is avoiding eye contact with me. Letting a small, shy smile escape, I grip his hand back.

Ray begins to lead me in the direction towards my house.

“Time for you to sleep,” he tells me, lightly squeezing my palm.

I blush, and let him lead me home.