for, liar

Chapter 54

Miles gets our bags loaded into the trunk and goes up to Lauren to hug her goodbye. Their embrace is long and saddening. I could tell she wasn't ready for him to go.

"Hopefully next time we come down here we can stay for longer. I really enjoyed it." He says, pulling away from her arms.

"Any time you want! We're not that far. Just make sure to call me beforehand." She replies.

"Will do. I love you."

"Love you more. Let me know when you two get back safely."

She walks over to me with open arms. I hug her and smile. All I get is a whiff of her perfume. It smells great but she sure uses a lot.

"It was nice meeting you honey. Don't be a stranger."

It won't be my intention at all.

I giggle. "I'll try my best!"

Miles flashes me a smile and climbs in the driver's seat.

We get back on the road after our few days of relaxation. Halfway down the interstate, my anxiousness and fear start to devour me. I don't want Miles to know how I feel about going home because then I'd just be passing my worry off to him and he doesn't deserve that after giving me such a great weekend..

"I had such a nice time with you." He says and grabs my hand without breaking focus from the road.

"Me too. Thanks for taking me." I smile.

Another worry surfaces. Now that we're going back home, I have to face Maddy. I have to face my mom for lunch and explain why I don't want her to meet Miles yet. The holidays are coming up in a couple of months so I can't keep pushing everything off. Well, I can do it for a couple of more months but by then I'm going to have to make a decision. I have my own shit to figure out. I'm sick of stressing over everything!

I shuffle one of the playlists I had made on Spotify for these long car rides. I can see Miles from the corner of my eye tapping the steering wheel with the free hand that isn't holding mine. I can tell when he doesn't like a song because he will sit completely still and hold my hand with a snug grip. I end up changing the song if I catch it in time.

We pull right up front at my apartment. Maddy's car is parked in front of the door. My heart starts racing and I suddenly feel like I'm going to vomit. I want her to be home and safe but I definitely didn't want to face her now after the way we left things.

We've never been this long without resolving an argument. People who think time and space is the only way to resolve something are fucking morons. How does this solve anything except making us dwell in our own resentment, risking making it worse?

"Should I go in with you or do you want to go in alone?" Miles asks.

He can tell how uneasy I am about being back. I don't think I want to face her alone, I just know I need to.

"Can you just wait outside and I'll come get you when it's all clear? If I don't come out in twenty minutes then call the cops because she probably killed me."

He laughs and shakes his head. "She's not going to kill you. Go inside."

"Fine, fine. Set a timer for twenty minutes. For real."

I speedily peck his lips and climb out of the car. I can feel my entire body shaking. It is a little chilly outside today. Fall is approaching us fast.

I can barely get the damn key in the hole from how badly my hands were shaking. My anxiety has spiked horribly recently. I take a slow, deep breath to calm myself down and push the door open.

All of the lights in the living room and kitchen are on. The whole place smells like cinnamon. Either it's a really strong candle or something is baking in the oven.

I hang my keys on the hook next to the door and slowly shut it. I can hear music playing from the living room. The volume is so low that I can't even hear what the song is. When I round the corner, I see Maddy sitting on a large tarp draped over the entire living room floor. She's hunched over a canvas and is steadily moving her paintbrush around. I'm thrown off for a second that I don't realize the entire living room is covered in canvases.

They're fucking everywhere. There's four on the couch and two more on the arms of it. There's at least twenty or thirty on the floor and coffee table in a precise order to where there's a tiny narrow pathway to walk through.

I'm taken aback by how much of a mess there is in our apartment that I can't even force myself to speak to her. She doesn't even notice I'm standing here. She's too focused on whatever she's currently painting.

"Maddy?"

She's got paint all over her clothes and even some smeared on her cheeks. Her hair is a tangled mess and she looks like she hasn't slept all night. Has she slept at all this weekend?

She sets the paintbrush down and looks over to me. "Hey, Bree. How was the trip?" She asks.

There's no anger in her tone. No sassy comment. Absolutely no sign of annoyance or the need for confrontation.

"It was good. What- um...what are you doing?" I stutter.

She looks back at the canvas resting on her little easel I had gotten for her graduation gift. She painted it with this beautiful pink rose-like pattern. I'm amazed by the amount of detail she gave this tiny piece.

"Just painting." She answers simply and carries on with the brush strokes.

"Yes, I see that. It looks like you've been painting a lot."

She nods and doesn't respond. I purse my lips and take a closer look at all of the paintings. All of them use cool colors and aren't really much of anything. Some are weird outlines of trees and what looks like a sky or an open field at night. A few of them have little detail and look like shadows of people. Not one of them seems remotely happy or positive.

"Do you think we can talk?" I ask after a few minutes of silence.

"I'm trying to finish this. Can it be later?"

"I really don't think it can wait."

She sighs and sets the paintbrush down again. She stands up from the tarp and walks through the trail she made that leads to the kitchen. She adds a huge clump of soap onto her hands and washes them.

I go around the entire art gallery taking up our living space and walk into the kitchen behind her. She dries her hands off on her shirt and crosses her arms when she faces me. "What's up?"

I lean my back against the counter and glance at the oven. She definitely is baking something. The aroma is strong. It's clouding my thoughts on what I was going to say.

Revised;