The Make-Up Artist: Part 2

Chapter Twenty Three: Interesting Turn of Events

June...

The month crept by at an agonizingly slow pace. The endless days dragged on only to be made a little more exciting by your early morning runs that you did decide to start taking. It's nice to have the roads practically to yourself and to be done and showered before most of the city is even awake, however, it makes the days feel even longer and you find yourself thinking of Taron more and more. True to his word he hasn't called or texted, presumably giving you time to "figure things out" as it were. Unfortunately, you are no closer to figuring anything out than you were a month ago when he walked out of your apartment, and his parting "YES" hangs heavy in your mind daily. Admittedly, you are starting to wonder if and when you will ever hear from Taron again. It hasn't really been all that long, but at the same time, it feels like an eternity.

As promised, you had called the studio as soon as Taron left to inform them of Ethan's actions, and you'd been assured that the situation would be dealt with immediately. You had heard through the studio's weekly communication email a few days later that Ethan had left the show to "pursue other opportunities in Seattle", and you had left it at that. You haven't seen or heard from him since which is a huge relief, and you figure it's probably the last you will hear from him. Richard has checked in nearly every day and you're not sure if that's on Taron's insistence or not, but it's been nice to have someone to talk to.

The highlight of your month was your long weekend trip to San Francisco with your mom for your birthday. It had been nice to get away and have a change of scenery where there weren't so many memories lurking around every corner. After spending four fabulous days in the steep streets of San Fran doing everything from visiting the piers, to shopping, to dining to riding on cable cars; you had returned feeling refreshed and invigorated.

When you had returned and walked up to your apartment door, suitcases in hand, you were surprised to find an extravagant bouquet of flowers waiting for you on your doorstep. After carting them inside and carefully setting them on your kitchen table, you dug amongst the fragrant blooms until you found the card to find out who had sent them. The card had simply read, "Happy Birthday, Love Your R.M.", along with a little drawing of a rocket. Folding the card back up, you had smiled and tucked it back inside, knowing exactly who they were from.

Now, three and half weeks later, it's the middle of July and the silence around you has been maddening. The city is all but deserted with most of its residents off for their summer hiatuses to their luxurious beach homes and fabulous vacations. You've been so bored that you're actually looking forward to going back to work and have been checking your email daily to see if a return date has been announced yet. It almost makes you wish you had just accepted Taron's offer to work with him this summer. Bad idea or not, at least you'd have something to do. You've even considered calling Lisa at one point, just to have someone else to talk to other than Richard. Not that you would begrudge your relationship with him at all. You generally enjoy your chats and occasional lunches or coffees with him when he's not busy with other things. But you have to admit, you miss having a girlfriend to talk to and you promise yourself to get up the courage to give her a call soon.

On one particular uneventful evening as you are just getting back from dinner with your parents, Richard calls while you're getting out of your car. Gathering your purse and shutting and locking the car door, you slide the bar over to accept the call then begin the ascent up the stairs to your apartment.

"Hey Rich, what's up?" You ask, slightly out of breath. How you can run three miles daily without issue, but climbing the stairs to your apartment causes you to be out of breath is beyond comprehension.

"Hey kid, you ok?" He asks, apparently noticing your slightly labored breathing.

"Yep, just got home", you confirm.