Chapter 7: Tromp l'oeil

"Maybe redemption has stories to tell, maybe forgiveness is right where you fell. Where can you run to escape from yourself?

Salvation is here."

-Switchfoot

"I'm Annette Hargrove."

I tried not to gape at her, although I seemed to not be doing well in that department since she looked at me curiously. When she gave another shy smile, I remembered all those times we were together.

"Pleased to meet you." I answered politely, the dulcet tone in my voice somewhat contrasting what she may have read about me since the body I inhabited was, although profound and meaningful, uneducated. Cal had been reputed to be somewhat of a recluse, preferring to hide behind his work. On occasion, Rita had had to physically drag him out of bed (or the floor, where he usually fell asleep) so he could do a couple of interviews for a few magazines.

"I'm actually here for the opening of your gallery a month from now." She laughed to herself, sounding sheepish. "I convinced my fiancé to get the invitations beforehand. His best friend is one of your many clients and I had him procure it for my birthday."

On its own accord, I feel a pang of jealousy. "Your fiancé?"

Annette nodded, her mouth widening into a genuine grin. It was then that I noticed the sparkling diamond on her left finger.

"Tyler Duncan." She replied, "He's a businessman."

Tyler Duncan, from what I've read in the financial section of the Times, was one of the most prominent Wall Street moguls in the business. He was also, according to Kathryn, rumored to have slept his way around the Upper East Side in his youth. The striking resemblance to me is disconcerting, and Kathryn had even confided that during one of her husband's parties, she had fucked Tyler in Blake's study. When I showed my resentment, she had assured me that it was only a one time thing since Tyler had apparently gotten engaged to a woman she had yet to know. The fact that Tyler Duncan and Blake Preston had been friends since college was also a big factor, since the two were like brothers and she surprisingly didn't want to commit such a betrayal against him.

"Yes, I think I've heard of him."

She shifted her weight and rifled through her purse to bring out a set of keys that I knew only too well. "I suppose I'll see you at the unveiling, Cal. I really do look forward to seeing your work."

"Yes, I was thinking of taking a new turn with it. Perhaps a tromp l'oeil… I've always been fascinated with photography."

This caught her interest and she faintly looked ill at the mention of photography. I was curious as to how her reaction would be and it felt gratifying when I saw how her blue eyes looked far off in thought at the moment. A tromp l'oeil is the fusion of painting and photography; I think I had mentioned it to Annette when she had been my girlfriend.

"Tromp l'oeil…" she whispered, tightening her grip on her keys.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing… You just reminded me of someone."

"Who?"

"My ex boyfriend." She paused hesitantly. "He died."

"I'm sorry." I tried to smile even though the surreal situation unnerved me a little. The door to the café opened and I felt mildly anxious that it would be Kathryn looking for me. I must have breathed a sigh of relief upon realizing that it wasn't and I quickly bid goodbye to the blonde before hurrying back. I had a feeling that aside from the unveiling of the new paintings I had yet to finish, it wasn't the last I'd see of Annette Hargrove.

I found Kathryn speaking on her cell phone as I returned, and whoever it was that had kept my former stepsister preoccupied deserved my thanks.

"Yes, I know." She rolled her eyes and mouthed a 'Where have you been?' while continuing her conversation. I merely smiled faintly, knowing my whereabouts for the past few minutes was going to result into another spat.

"I'm sorry, okay?" she argued, her beautiful face contorting into a frown. "Blake, don't be like that. It's annoying."

He must have said something correct since her frown disappeared. The jealousy this time was undoubtedly greater than what I've felt with Annette earlier, "Alright."

Another pause and I picked up the newspaper, the thought that we were like one of those normal couples that ate out made me smile.

"Yes, I have to go… Wait, you're inviting who to where?"

Her voice had risen to a high pitch, "Blake, you can't honestly be serious… No, nothing's wrong with that… Fine. I'll see you at dinner."

She hung up and gave an annoyed sigh.

"What's wrong?"

"My husband's just invited you to dinner with us. It seems that Tyler's fiancée is quite keen on meeting the infamous neurotic painter so being the faggot that my husband is, he's decided to call Rita to arrange it. She should be calling you later today."

Oh shit. Annette.

"What's wrong with that? Are you ashamed of me or something?" I asked bitterly.

Her green eyes darted around the room before she reached over and squeezed my arm lightly, by then her voice had become softer and rather than respond with antagonism, she did the opposite.

"It's not that, Sebastian." A smile tugged the corner of her mouth, the smile quickly turning into mischief while she leaned closer.

"I just don't want to complicate things."

"Look around, sweetheart. It's as complicated as it gets." I scratched my bandaged wrist. "You're married, I'm technically dead, and we're about to go to dinner with your husband, his business partner, incidentally the guy you screwed and the guy who looked like me, and to top it off, you're going to see Anet—"

I stopped in mid sentence but again, it was too late. She picked it up quickly and stared at me accusingly.

"Annette? How am I going to see Annette?"

Too late. The cat was out of the bag, so to speak.

"I met her earlier."

"What!"

"She's Tyler's fiancée."

"Bitch." She cursed again, frowning. "Do you realize that probably the only reason why she's with him…?"

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Hmm." Kathryn stared at me acutely, "What else have you thought about when it came to Bambi?"

If I were of course to tell her that I felt a bit jealous when I found out she was getting married, I would have probably walked out of the café wearing my food so I chose another path that was as equally the truth.

"Honestly?" I smiled, "My car… And how good it would be if I got you in it."

The worried look vanished at my suggestive tone, "Just good, Valmont?"

"Let me rephrase then, Kathryn."

I took her hand and rubbed her palm with my thumb thoughtfully, aware that the image of her with another man being affectionate to her could prove to be detrimental to her marriage, since Blake Preston was a well known businessman. I didn't care. She looked alarmed at the line that had been crossed but quickly relaxed and I realized that I had been the first person she allowed to be this close to her but before I bemoan the tragedy of my demise, I concentrated on her.

"I thought about my car, getting it back… Having you in it… Preferably naked but of course we can't have that… I apologize though, it won't be good. It will be fucking great."

She smiled. I loved making her happy.

"Better?"

"Much."

---

That was where Saturday night found us. I was presently seated beside Kathryn and her husband while Annette and the infamous Tyler Duncan were placed opposite us. It was a bit disturbing to see the man who allegedly looked like me because he really did resemble me in a way. It was like staring at a mirror only… Not.

Does that sound odd?

He had the same shade of blond hair as I did during my earlier life, same blue eyes only his built had been more angular than mine. It wasn't difficult to believe that he had been somewhat of a playboy in his youth, egotism aside, if he had my looks then yes, I would have understood that concept. His mouth was thinner than mine had been, but the guy just was too fucking charming. He genuinely seemed to love Annette, and again I realized that this was what I must have looked like before.

"So, Annette tells me she ran into you earlier." The man under my scrutiny spoke, smiling pleasantly. "She really loves your work."

At least the way he smiled was different.

Underneath the table, I felt Kathryn dig her nails into my thigh.

I nodded, averting my eyes from Tyler's face before he thinks that I was checking him out. "I'm flattered that she would."

I leaned closer to Kathryn as the conversation took another turn.

"Retract the claws." I hissed, "You want me to bleed to death?"

"Is that even a question?"

"Sadist."

"Loser."

I smirked and jerked my head towards Annette, who seemed to be watching me with a strange look in her eyes. "Jealous?"

"Aren't we cocky?" Kathryn whispered back, oblivious to the peculiar stare I was getting from the blonde.

"You don't need to be, you know."

We were interrupted by the serving of the main course, but I still caught her hide a smile behind her hand. Blake and Tyler had launched into a discussion about business but as soon as I saw Annette raise the food to her mouth, all rationality left me and I reached out to grip her wrist firmly. The meal contained nuts and she was allergic to it, I remember having had to take her to the hospital after our third date.

"Don't, Annette. You'll get sick." I spoke, the voice coming out of me was deep and sounded like the way I had before. When her eyes widened, I loosened my grip and cleared my throat. By now everybody present had gone silent and I felt Kathryn's nails dig deeper.

I withdrew my hand and cursed myself for the concern.

"She's allergic to peanuts." I explained and then felt alarmed as to how I could ever explain how I knew. Annette had once said that not a lot of people knew it, in fact, I was the only person she'd said it to because she was embarrassed about it and didn't want it to spread around.

Tyler turned to his fiancée, who by now had turned an interesting color of white that could have rivaled Kathryn's color.

"I didn't know that."

"How did you know?" she asked in a hushed whisper, "The only person I ever told was…"

I managed an ill grin before she could complete the sentence, "Wild guess."

I also realized that the longer I stayed here the deeper the hole would become so I excused myself, saying that I suddenly felt tired and that it would be best if I left. Annette was still looking at me oddly and her eyes had narrowed when Kathryn announced that she would walk me out.

As soon as we were allowed, I felt my balance leave me when the brunette shoved me roughly.

"You idiot!"

"Well, I'm sorry okay?" I complained, rubbing my shoulder. "I couldn't just let her die."

"She wasn't going to die! Fuck, you're still a pussy. You're in love with her, aren't you?"

I heard a slight shuffle but by then I had gotten into the argument too deeply, "Are we back at this again, Kathryn?"

"Yes, we are." She crossed her arms over her chest, "And we're going to keep coming back until you give me a sufficient reason to believe otherwise. Don't you think I haven't noticed how blatantly envious you looked when Tyler held her hand?"

"I was jealous because the guy looked like me okay?"

"I don't believe it!"

"Well it's the truth! I'm stuck in this fucking body and I hate it. When I saw him I remembered what you said you did with him and I know it should have been me, okay? So please, just stop. You're giving me a headache."

"Not Annette?" she asked again, her arms uncrossing.

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration, "Of course not Annette. When did you start becoming so clingy?"

She gave an indignant cry, "I am not! God! You're still an obnoxious overconfident bastard, aren't you, Valmont?"

I had to crack a smile at how affronted she looked, her features were so appalled and wounded looking that I felt my anger melt and I wrapped my arms around her waist.

"You know you love it." I murmured in her ear. "I'll see you soon?"

She kissed my neck and played with my hair, "Make it later tonight… At my old room?"

I frowned, "I was thinking of painting tonight… You do know you're distracting me from my work, right?"

"I'll make it worth the waste of time, Sebastian."

This time I heard a gasp, a more audible one at that but Kathryn didn't seem to notice it. Not wanting to alarm her, I held on to her tighter before having to let go.

"You better."

"Bye." She murmured, the softness of her lips tantalizing me to stay rooted to that spot.

"Love you."

She pulled away and smiled before walking back to her husband.

---

Hours later, I stepped back to survey my work. I had converted one of the rooms in the townhouse into a studio, and at the moment I had just finished my third painting. I was sure that the critics would notice the abrupt change of styles but I wasn't worried. I had never really given a shit as to what people might think and it wasn't going to start now. As I had told Annette earlier, it was a tromp l'oeil, which was a far cry from the usual abstract works the previous inhabitant of this body was so fond of. I had painted a photograph I still had in my dark room of Aunt Helen's garden, it had been the day of the wedding when I had gone up to my room to mull over what had happened with Kathryn when I saw her standing alone there. Not wanting this to dissipate like the countless memories I had, I took a photograph of it and had it ever since. I liked how she looked in it, her face had been somber and she looked somehow vulnerable. I liked to think she was waiting for me. I made the painting preserve the photographic detail and was about to add my signature when I heard footsteps behind me.

Thinking it was Kathryn, I signed my name and wiped my hands with the rag. "Finally. What took you so long? You better not have gone to Tuttle's to get your precious white powder, Kathryn. I told you to quit that shit, remember?"

I was still fixing my paintbrushes, "Look, if you're still mad about that…"

I turned around and stopped talking.

Annette was there and she was staring at my painting.

"I know that place." She said shakily, taking unsteady steps forward.

I blinked, "I'm sorry, what are you doing here?"

She grabbed the envelope containing the photographs from the wedding and took the one of where I'd based my painting.

"Who are you? Where did you get this?"

"I was… Exploring the house and I found it. I thought that that photograph would make for a nice subject so I…"

"This envelope was locked in a safe."

Fuck.

"I had it opened. Call it curiosity."

"How did you know I was allergic to peanuts?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"I told you," I wiped my suddenly perspiring forehead with a small towel. "I just had a feeling."

She placed the envelope down and stood in front of me, her eyes filling with tears. "You remind me of him so much. Just now, at dinner… The way you grabbed my wrist, the way you looked at me… God… Even the way you spoke."

"Of who?" I asked even though I dreaded the answer.

"This was his house, you know."

"Who are you talking about?"

"It's just… It's not possible…"

"Ms. Hargrove, I suggest you go back to your fiancé right now. He must be worried about you, it's past midnight and I honestly have no idea what you're doing here."

She took out a familiar object out of her purse and I felt my heart rate speed up at the sight of my old friend, worn out leather and thick pages. Then, she grabbed the pieces of papers I had scrawled on with my ideas and opened the journal.

"Same handwriting."

I swallowed thickly, she had turned to the page wherein Kathryn's picture was staring up at me along with a few endearing words I had put up. Namely, Coke problem, bulimic and whatnot.

"What exactly are you proposing?" I asked pointedly, resisting the urge to grab the journal and burn it.

"Sebastian."

I laughed, "You think I'm him?"

"I'm not the only one. I saw you with Kathryn earlier."

I grabbed her shoulders, knowing how dangerously close she was. "Listen to me, it's nothing. Are you even listening to yourself? How can I be your ex boyfriend? Look at me, Annette. I am not him."

In turn, she grabbed my face and forced me to look at her.

"I never said Sebastian was my ex boyfriend." She answered, her body suddenly shaking. "How did you know that?"

I really should learn to keep quiet.

"Annette, please stop." I half pleaded softly, "Please."

She gaped at me in wonder, "It is you."

"No. You're delusional. Whatever happened between you and this Sebastian person is over. He's dead, you're not. Move on."

She grabbed my shirt as if her life depended on it, I then saw her sorrow, her remorse at what had happened. She clung on to me, refusing to believe but at the same time clinging to that hope.

"Sebastian."

I tried to extricate myself from her, but by now she was sobbing loudly. Her repeated apologies broke me down and I finally hugged her back if only to give her some sort of comfort. As soon as I did that, she stopped shaking and her hold on me loosened. I rubbed her back soothingly to help her tears subside, and when she moved away from me, her lashes with thick with tears. Perhaps it was compassion that moved me, or the fact that in one lifetime, I loved her, but I wiped her tears away with a gentle hand.

"Please leave." I said after, picking up the journal to hand it back. "I won't mention this to anyone and I hope you do the same."

"I never stopped loving you." She replied in all honesty.

I looked away and busied myself with my work. After a few minutes of silence, I heard her leave and it was then that I sat down to the makeshift mattress I had placed on the floor and stared vacantly out the window.

Kathryn arrived an hour later and found me in the same state, I don't know if she understood the fact that this was more than difficult to me, or if she took one look at my disheveled state and at the painting, but she didn't present another argument over what had happened earlier. Instead of talking, I felt her lips brush on my forehead and her hands unbutton my shirt.

I took her wrists just as she was about to push me against the mattress, "Kathryn, I can't… I'm too tired to be who I was. I can't give you images tonight. It's just this, okay? I'm sorry."

As her reply, she removed her wrists from my grip and took my hands to place it on her waist and started kissing me. When we had somehow divested our clothing and moved into the ancient rhythm of lust and love, I closed my eyes and tried to preserve the feeling of being buried inside of her.

It was the only burial I would welcome.

For tonight, I forgot about Annette and the little girl who looked like Kathryn. Yes, there a lot of questions yet to be answered but as of now, like the many instances I've been with Kathryn and the many more instances to come, the ominous storm would have to be kept at bay.

There was only flesh and paint and passion.

A/N: Am I insane? I think so. For writing this. Lol