But somehow, Dr. Lowell had seen something in me and had quickly taken me under her wing. I respected her refusal to make or accept excuses for anything. I had been drawn to her gruff yet kind personality and the way she expected me to hold myself accountable but be ever mindful of my grief.
She nurtured my desire to be a counselor. She guided me down the path I had chosen. She was my mentor. My adviser. My favorite professor. And the thought of letting her down made me sick to my stomach. I was terrified of looking in her eyes one day and seeing disappointment.
Finally, Dr. Lowell gave me her attention, and I almost sagged in relief when I saw her smile. This wasn’t someone who was unhappy to see me. On the contrary, she seemed pleased.
“I don’t want to keep you, Aubrey. I know you must be busy. I just wanted to take a moment to tell you I’ve heard such great things from Kristie about group,” Dr. Lowell said, shocking me.
“Really? I was pretty sure that after my screw-up I had been written off,” I said, making Dr. Lowell laugh.
“I think she’s gotten over it. Kristie can be a tough sell. She comes across nice enough, but she’s pretty inflexible about things. So the fact that she’s come around is a huge compliment.”
The praise didn’t bring with it the warm glow of pride it normally would have. No. In fact, it made me feel worse. What would Dr. Lowell and Kristie say when they realized how inappropriate I was actually being? I shuddered at the thought of their faces if the truth ever came out.
So why wasn’t that enough to make me walk away?
Because I suffered from my own addiction, which sucked away all logic.
“Thank you,” was all I could squeak out. Dr. Lowell beamed at me, and I wanted to flee. Run away. Now.
“Check my schedule on the door, and put yourself down for a one-on-one after group is over. We can talk about how things went and look at options for your next volunteer placement,” my professor instructed, dismissing me.
I didn’t say a word as I got to my feet. I hurried out of the office and did as Dr. Lowell requested. I already dreaded the meeting.
I should go to the library. I had a mountain of work to catch up on, but right then I just wanted to get off campus. I wanted to go to Maxx’s apartment and submerge myself in the feelings I experienced only when he touched me.
I pushed through the doors that led out onto the academic quad. I rushed down the sidewalk and came up short. The sight of color at my feet caught my attention. I looked up and saw that the entire length of the pavement was covered in a drawing.
I backed up so I could get a better look at what was an elaborate kaleidoscope of images. At the center were two figures that looked like marionettes on strings. Their joints were depicted as jagged, bloody seams held together by nuts and bolts. The strings holding them up disappeared into a thick, raging fire above them.
The marionettes were clutched together, their awkward limbs trying to hold on to one another. The ground below them was giving way, crumbling and disappearing. The long blond hair of the female puppet was wrapped up in flowers that obscured her face, the fair strands an intricate weaving of the letter X.
While I stood there, transfixed by the strange yet unbelievably beautiful image, water hit the tip of my nose, followed by more drops on my cheek. Looking up, I saw clouds moving in and watched with sadness as rain flooded the drawing on the sidewalk, erasing it.
It seemed such a shame for something so amazing, something someone clearly spent a long time creating, to be ruined by a rain shower.
I hadn’t prepared for the turn in weather, so I stood there in the downpour, getting soaked. I watched with morbid fascination as the vibrant colors mixed together, washing down the pathway. The two puppets, locked in their passionate yet uncomfortable embrace, faded away until there was nothing left.
“Why can’t he just draw on paper like a normal person?” a hateful voice asked from behind me.
Brooks stood beside me, moving his umbrella so that it shielded me from the rain. I hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, not since our confrontation after support group. He continued to sit there week after week, but he hadn’t initiated any sort of interaction since. Nevertheless, I felt him watching me closely. And he wasn’t the only one. I knew that others were watching me as well, which didn’t help my paranoia, which was already near the breaking point.
The marionettes were completely gone. “I thought you liked X’s paintings,” I remarked, still not taking my eyes away from the rain-soaked pavement.
Brooks snorted. “It’s like that club, just a delusional waste of time. Sure, it looks pretty, but it only hides a heart that’s rotten to the core,” he spat out. I knew he wasn’t talking about the painting.
“Why so bitter, Brooks? It takes a lot of talent to create something like this,” I argued, shivering from the cold and the wet clothes clinging to my skin.
The rain beat down on the umbrella, pouring in rivulets around us, splashing my shoes and jeans as it hit the ground.
Brooks shook his head. “I get it, Aubrey. It’s easy to be distracted by something like this. But don’t forget the ugliness underneath. It may be nice to look at, but it’s only paint, and it washes away eventually.”
Brooks’s metaphors were making my head hurt. But his meaning was crystal freaking clear. If I had wondered about the state of our friendship before, I didn’t now. I could practically taste his disapproval.
I stepped out from underneath the protection of his umbrella. I looked up into my former friend’s eyes and saw nothing of the kind, compassionate man I used to see.
“I feel bad for you, Brooks. It’s so easy to criticize what you don’t even try to understand. To pass judgment without looking at what’s really there. I’m sorry if I haven’t lived up to the expectations you had for me. That I disappointed you. But I had to come down off that pedestal eventually.” Brooks opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something, but then shook his head.
“I’m sorry too, Aubrey,” he said sadly.
I looked down at the ruined painting again. All that was left was a puddle of color in the grass.
“You’ll miss out on some amazing things in life if you can’t look past your nose to see the beauty that’s out there in the most unconventional places. And complexity isn’t ugliness. It’s the complication that makes it worth it,” I said softly, turning and walking away.
I pulled out my phone and tried calling Maxx again. No answer. I was freezing, the tips of my fingers going numb. But I couldn’t go back to my apartment. I couldn’t be on campus.