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” I smile and point my glass to Sean's paint by letters on the wall. “I am dating the guy that created that,” I slur, pointing my glass with so much emphasis that a bit of wine spills on my hand. The server looks at the painting and sighs. Someone walks over to the painting and places a red sticker next to the description; some idiot actually purchased it! She pours two large glasses of wine and hands one to me. ”Wine cures all sins,” the server says as she downs the entire glass of wine. *** “Aria, roller now! I'm drying up here!” Sean yells from the terrace, snapping me out of my flashback. I retrieve the roller and head back to the terrace. Sean is trying to smear the paint on his back with his hands. I throw the roller on the tarp and go inside. I am sick of his narcissism. He clearly does not care for me anymore. Instead he would rather douse his body in paint and grope himself on canvas. “Thanks Babe. Wait! Do my back!” Sean yells back as I retreat to the bedroom. I plop onto. Bianca muttered in her sleep and moved restlessly. I held her tighter. I'd been so self-absorbed I'd forgotten what Bianca must be feeling. How could a fourteen-year-old have the poise to tend to me amidst dead bodies? She'd been remarkably calm as we'd run, not complaining at all.It struck me as I hugged her that, without the distraction of fleeing danger, the confusion of amnesia, and the mesmerizing power of her remarkable eyes looking at me with such trust, Bianca was very young. In my arms she was small, much smaller than her personality, smaller than her mature attitude. She was a fascinating girl and, even with her bedraggled appearance, really quite pretty.Sleep rebuffed me despite a body crying out for rest. Bianca whimpered in her sleep. I tightened my hug and whispered, "It's okay. We're safe." It worked. She settled.Lack of memory was disorienting. It was like my mind had a physical void spot, a dark empty hole where everything was hiding from me, teasing me, frustrating.
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