Happy reading!
40
"She's been losing followers since Friday afternoon." Angela is telling me Sunday evening. She came over for dinner with a bottle of wine in one hand and tequila in the other, looking haggard. "The hate got so intense, she turned the comments off on her Instagram and deactivated her Twitter altogether."
Angela's spent the last few days observing the fallout from the article. While we initially lost some followers and a handful of commissions were canceled, most of the negative backlash seemed to all be going in Tanya's direction instead of ours. I thought hearing about Tanya's struggles would give me some sort of grim satisfaction, but I feel nothing. At this point, I think I'm just numb.
"Oh, poor thing." My mom's words reek of sarcasm, and they make Angela snort. They're both a little tipsy.
"When people started realizing they couldn't get at her personally, they went to the comment sections of the article, which, last I checked, is still open. And it's not just regular people, but other local artists that are coming to your defense. Rachel Black has been the loudest." Ang spills some of her wine on the table when she enthusiastically moves her hands as she speaks. "I'm not even going to try to lie and say that when Rachel said that Tanya wouldn't know good art if it punched her in the face, I didn't cackle."
"What I don't understand is how she knows Edward and I are together at all." I feel the anger roll off him from the seat next to me, bringing my chair a touch closer to his, if that was even possible. Since he arrived at my apartment Friday evening, he's barely left my side. Only leaving long enough to get some clothes from his place. His constant presence over the tumultuous last few days has been my saving grace.
"I think I figured that out." Angela gulps what little wine is left in her glass. "I did some snooping through the people Tanya's following on Instagram and found Rose on her list. I remembered that Tanya's email about the interview came through after Rose did those posts about the move. So, I went to Rose's page to look at the pictures from those few days, and I found one where you and Edward were in the background." She takes out her phone, bringing up the photo in question, before handing it to me.
Edward and I were nowhere near being the subject of the photo; the main thing taking up the screen is a pile of boxes and a caption with our business name and new address. For any other person who's following Rosalie, it was something inconsequential; they most likely didn't even notice us in the right corner, hugging each other, with Edward kissing my cheek. But Tanya had.
"That bitch." Edward hisses. The hand he has on the back of my chair tightens to the point the wood creaks. "She would've had to zoom in to even tell that was me."
Feeling nauseous, I hand the phone back to Angela. How vindictive a person is she to do something like this? And why?
"I haven't even told you the best part," Angela leans on her elbows on top of the table. "She's not listed on the staff page of City Art anymore. I don't know if they pulled her because of backlash to save face or if she's no longer employed there. Either way, they basically erased her from the site."
"Her dad owns City Art, as well as a handful of other local publications. So even if she isn't with City Art anymore, Daddy Dearest probably moved someplace else." Edward's sigh is weary and defeated.
"How did you find that out?" Angela asks him, seeming impressed.
"I did some digging of my own." Of course he did.
"Pot calling the kettle black, anyone?" Angela leans back in her chair with her arms crossed. "What she accused Bella of doing is exactly what her dad did for her."
"I'm going to grab a sweater. I'll be right back." I say as I stand. I just need a minute after what I just learned.
I disappear into my bedroom and grab Edward's sweatshirt I've been constantly wearing and sit on my bed, my head spinning. There's a soft knock on the open door; I look up to find the man himself standing there with a melancholy expression.
"Can I come in?"
I nod, standing so I can walk into his arms that he already has open. Even with everything that's happened, being in his embrace made me feel safe and protected.
Was it really just last weekend we were in Portland? How had things changed so quickly?
"Are you okay?" He kisses the top of my head.
I bite my lip and answer honestly. "No." I hadn't been okay before the article came out, and I definitely am not okay now that it has. Knowing that our business hasn't suffered as badly as I prepared myself for offers some relief, though.
"What can I do?" There's a desperation in his voice. He hates that I'm hurting and that he can't do anything about it.
"Don't let go." I cling to him more, my fingers gripping the back of his shirt to keep him close.
"Never, baby." He whispers into my hair. "I just wish there was more I could do."
"I'm calling a therapist on Monday to make an appointment." I tell him after several moments of silence. Last night when I couldn't sleep, I got on Google and found a therapist that specializes in anxiety. Dr. Gerandy is his name, and according to reviews, he comes highly recommended. As soon as I found him, I knew he was the one I wanted to call. It felt right.
"I think that's a good idea." He rubs my back. "If you want me to go with you, I will. I can at least hold your hand in the waiting room if you need it."
I smile. He's always so there.
"I appreciate it, and I think I'll take you up on the offer." I've never been to therapy, and the thought of going terrifies me. Having him there to hold my hand sounds exactly like what I need. "I want to get better." I pull away just enough to look up at him. "For me and for you. I know you say I'm enough, but I need to get to a place where I believe it too."
"And I'll be here for you. Whatever you need."
"I know you will be. Always."
See you next time.