Ghost Of You (A Novella)

Chapter Twenty (REWRITTEN)

The diner was dim, most of the lighting coming from the huge picture windows that faced the street. The smell of old grease wafted through the air, seeping into her hair and clothes. It would certainly follow her home, clinging to every pore and resistant to any banishing remedy other than shampoo and detergent. Avery was well accustomed to these types of restaurants since the midwest was littered with them. The only complaint she had was that it did not serve tenderloins—thin, deep fried pork, so large it hung off the edge of the plate, making the single hamburger bun they place in the center ridiculously tiny in comparison. After moving to New York, she discovered that, sadly, it was purely an Indiana thing. Instead, she ordered the same as Sebastian... almost. A single patty cheeseburger was more her style.

She doubted she could down a triple.

Their conversation moved naturally toward getting to know each other. It was actually a nice reprieve for her brain. She couldn't be fast and witty all the time, it was exhausting. "Did you go to college?"

Sebastian nodded aimlessly, swallowing a half-eaten fry before explaining, "Yeah, Architecture—before the accident. I'll return this fall to finish... still got two more years."

"You can draw?" The excitement in her voice was not well hidden. She knew Sebastian better than he currently knew her, but since he hadn't originally remembered his history, this was a rousing new discovery.

He smirked, charmed by her sudden burst of passion, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, there ninja. Slow your roll." As much as it flattered him, it was not well deserved. "Architecture makes me an unimaginative brute. No ruler, no bueno. Circles be hard, Avery."

In awe of the way she scrunched her nose when she laughed, he could have just let that subject ride to the end, but he wanted to know more about her and since she seemed to light up at the idea of drawing, he had to ask, "You like art?"

"I majored in it, so yeah, maybe a little," she sipped her drink, diverting her eyes.

"That's awesome." And to him, it was, mostly because it was apparent that she loved it. "What kind of career does an art major get though?" The thought about the art museums in Colorado, hours away from his small town. If she was searching for a job in that field, she would have to relocate and he didn't like that possibility one bit.

She indicated to herself, mainly her attire. She needn't say anything else, her degree had not panned. Working as a nurse's aide made that much obvious.

Sebastian bit his tongue, hating what was about to come out of his mouth but he cared about her enough to let the pieces fall where they may, regardless of how selfishly he wished to keep her close, "There's museums and... stuff, um, a few hours away. I'm sure they'd—"

"Ugh," she curled her lip in brazen disgust. "I don't want to showcase other people's work. I just want to sell mine." How heart wrenching would that be? Going into work every day and wondering why she wasn't good enough to be hung on walls? No, thank you.

Watching her body deflate, he understood better now. She was an artist. A struggling artist, but an artist nonetheless. And here she was, spending her time with him instead of living her dream. "I'll buy your works," he pledged, knowing full well he would break the bank for her. He would buy every piece, quality notwithstanding.

"You should probably see them first," Avery wrung her hands and bit her lip and he hadn't ever seen anything more beautiful.

"Sure." He beamed. "It's a date then." His smile fell fast and hard when he noticed she was no longer paying attention to him, but the television on the wall behind his head.

The ticker ran across the bottom, today's less important news reminding him that he had no idea the worldly happenings he missed while he was out. He would need to reacquaint himself.

But Avery's focus was on the newscaster, his words burning a hole in her heart. "Billionaire tech mogul Daniel Swartz, 47, of Appleton, Indiana, is charged with twelve counts of fraud with a maximum sentence of thirty-six years imprisonment and one-hundred and twenty thousand dollar fine; three counts of embezzlement with a max sentence of three years in prison and a fifteen thousand dollar fine and seven counts of money laundering which carries a twenty year sentence per conviction and ten thousand dollars, or up to three times the value of the laundered property per case. The hearing is scheduled for this Friday, the eighth. His wife, Chloe Swartz, 45, had this to say to our cameras..."

Avery scoffed, repulsed. She didn't care what lies her mother spewed.

The fines wouldn't matter, that was chump change to her father. One-hundred and eighty five years of imprisonment however, was a serious matter and she wasn't sure how she was feeling about that. She mourned for the parents she once believed she had, but these two—it was difficult to sympathize with them. On top of that, if her dad was able to buy his way out of the mess he created, he would go right back to doing the same thing he had been, earning his income in the same way.

Nothing would change.

Sebastian kept his trap closed, but he was smart enough to observe the resemblance between Avery and the couple on TV and now knew her move had nothing to do with a desire to live in Colorado. He wondered when she might achieve a level of comfortability with him to share the rest of her life.

***

The trip back to the hospital was silent. Deafeningly so. Sebastian had to keep reminding himself that Avery would tell him what was going on in due time. He just needed to stay consistent.

And he wasn't about to lose her now.

"Hey," he grabbed her wrist before laying back in bed. "Are you busy tomorrow night?"

Yes. She would be surfing the web, reading all about the vile affairs of her parents and what their small town had to say about it. "No."

"Chase is bringing pizza... we were going to watch a movie. Do you want to join?"

She certainly did, but she wasn't sure how great of company she would be. This afternoon's newscast had uncovered a ton of pent up emotions and she couldn't predict what mood she might be in by tomorrow night.

On the other hand, maybe she needed an escape. She smiled, something that Sebastain noted didn't reach her eyes, "I'd like that."