Shattered Dreams

Working in the spotlight and living your life under the proverbial magnifying glass, will ruin you in some way or another. If the sun hits that magnifying glass just right, it’ll start a fire; a fire you may not be able to put out in time. Once that fire is lit, the damage will already be done.

She was just another daydreaming American who aspired to be something more and he was just your average famous Scottish actor. Maybe she was getting famous, gaining the momentum to break through to the other side like the others. Her writing was her torture and passion for all to see. It was the type of writing many quoted and related to all the while. Breaking the mold, Ambrose Natalia Turkinski became the enigmatic ANT. With the rise of the graffiti artists such as Bansky, she stenciled her musings on buildings all over the city. People wondered who she was, publishers wanted to sign her but no one really knew how to reach her. However eventually she did contact a publisher and gave half of her work to them in exchange for travel money. Ambrose wanted to see the world and expand her work internationally.

For the first few countries, she spent two weeks in each. France, Spain and Germany then she stopped at London last. Her first days there were rainy and unsuitable to do work leaving her to plan her next move.

He entered his favorite pub in town, one where people didn’t bother him and he could just relax. Sitting at the bar the brunette sitting alone in the corner of the bar caught his eye briefly.

“James ol‘ boy, long time no see,” the bartender greeted merrily.

“Hello Fred, how are the wife and kids?”

“They‘re quite alright. Can I get you the usual then?”

“Of course,” James replies with a nod.

James sat there drinking, his pint of Guinness and couldn’t help but notice how empty it was in the bar for a Wednesday. The bartender busied himself cleaning glasses whilst James found himself glancing the woman at the bar who was reading a tattered copy of The World According to Garp. She stopped reading to polish off her own pint of Guinness only to have it replaced with another by Fred.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks Fred,” she smiles brightly.

“American?” James comments looking at her somewhat surprised.

“Scottish?”

“I‘m just surprised, you look so comfortable here, most tourists stick out like sore thumbs.”

“A bit cliché don‘t you think?”

“Perhaps you‘re right,” he says with a smile.

“Fred I‘d like to close the tab after this one, I really should do my work,” Ambrose says politely.

“Alright.”

“So you‘re here on business?”

“Pleasure,” she corrects.

“First time in London?”

“And my last,” she states.

“You don‘t like it here?” James inquires.

“It's wonderful here.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Strangers aren‘t supposed to make sense, that’s why they are called strangers,” Ambrose smiles softly.

“I‘m James,” he introduces.

“I’m Ambrose.”

“Pleasure to meet you Ambrose.”

“Likewise James.”

Ambrose took it upon herself to down the entire glass of Guinness whilst anyone around was left to gawk. Guinness was a dark beer that was heavy and stout so when someone downed an entire pint within thirty to forty seconds, it was well, impressive. The fact that the petite brunette downed the entire pint so quickly was doubly impressive. She signed the credit card receipt and left a good tip for Fred in cash.

“I haven‘t seen anyone down a pint of Guinness like that,” James states.

“This one can drink,” Fred responds.

“Have fun,” she says with a wave and a smile that revealed the single dimple on her face.

Ambrose left the bar just as the rain had briefly let up. The forecast predicted the rain would officially stop at around ten o’clock at night so she decided to go back to the hotel and get some rest before her project. James stayed at the bar and when Ambrose left he couldn’t help but have the image of her smile imprinted in his mind.

“Charming as they come that little one, this is the second day she‘s been in here and always leaves a good tip.”

“What does she do in here?”

“Drink and write, sometimes takes breaks to read,” Fred lists.

“Do you think she‘ll be back tomorrow?” James questions.

“You fancy her don‘t you James ole boy? She is a sweet little package, holds her liquor and can carry a conversation.”

“Fred.”

“She said she was staying for two weeks, she‘ll probably be back tomorrow around the same time,” he says as he cleaned the counter.

She woke at around one in the morning and gathered her things. Wearing comfortable sneakers and dark clothing she set off into the clear night. Being a big city, there were still many people out and about but most were drunk and stumbling around for a taxi cab. After much consideration she chose the wall she would display her words.

It took over two hours to complete the project but in the end she was happy with the work even if there were moments when she nearly fell off the building. Of course if she had assistants to help she wouldn’t have a problem but she didn’t know anyone. If she knew Bansky she’d be set but that was not going to happen, what with his identity being a complete mystery. After she was finished she was exhausted and she headed back to the hotel to shower then rest. This was the first project and the next would require more time as well as work.

Clear skies were not always guaranteed in a place like London so she was going to have to the next part soon before another storm front came in to ruin everything. Ambrose woke hours later feeling slightly sore from stretching out and holding things up the previous hours. She was a bit hungry and it was a couple hours passed noon so she headed to the pub she liked very much hoping they served lunch.

Before she even got to the bar, James had already been waiting for her for an hour. Ambrose walked into the bar and smiled at Fred as she leaned against the bar tiredly.

“Fred do you make food here?”

“Sorry darling, no kitchen, just pretzels. Maybe James could take you somewhere to eat.”

“Do you know any place that has good Chinese food?” Ambrose inquires looking at James.

“I do know a little place.”

“Good, I could go for some white rice and chicken,” she replies with a stretch of her arms.

“Well that is what you shall get,” James smiles brightly as he put
on his coat to leave.

They walked along the streets and Ambrose kept tabs of walls that seemed to be prime locations for her next project. James couldn’t help but notice Ambrose’s odd moments of writing down addresses of roads they passed.

“May I ask what you are doing?”

“Keeping track of where I am. Sometimes I can forget, by the way what‘s it like to be in films?” Ambrose smiles.

“I thought you didn‘t know who I was.”

“I don‘t, but it doesn‘t mean I haven‘t seen any of the things you‘ve been in.”

“Its alright, I like pretending to be someone else.”

“You and the rest of the world, James.”

“What are you doing in London?” he asks.

“Architecture, rain, culture.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“Phoenix, Arizona.”

“I hear its very hot there.”

“You hear correctly,” Ambrose says with a teasing smile.

It was quiet for a few moments until Ambrose spoke again.

“Strange question but do you know of any good walls around here?”

“Good walls?”

“Yes, a vertical structure forming an outside surface of a building,” she replies.

“Can‘t think of one at the top of my head. We should take a taxi it’s a little ways away.”

“Alright, I won‘t argue, I haven‘t eaten anything today.”

It was strange but once they got to the restaurant and began eating, the conversation flowed like they knew each other for years. They laughed until their eyes were brimming with tears. James felt completely at ease with Ambrose and the attraction between the two was almost electric. Ambrose forgot about the many problems in her life when she stared back into James’ bright blue eyes. This was something she needed after all she had been going through. It was uncontrollable what she was feeling and James was having troubles with the same thing. Then Ambrose snapped out of it, realizing it was futile to start something when she was leaving. James was completely thrown off when Ambrose wanted to leave in such a haste.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, it's just sort of pointless James, I don‘t want to get involved with anyone.”

“Is this because you live somewhere else? I would be willing to come see you.”

“Be realistic,” Ambrose says exiting the restaurant as James followed after her.

“If I were being realistic than a girl I meet at the bar wouldn‘t be able to dazzle me with just her smile and have me thinking about her for hours. Just one kiss and we can see if it works.”

“One kiss?”

“Yes one kiss,” James responds by tugging her closer to his body. Ambrose was sold on the idea, she didn’t look up at him in fear of giving in. James brought his hand up to her chin and gently made her look up at him. Her breathing hitched and she closed her eyes out of anticipation. Lowering his face to hers, James pressed his lips against hers. When Ambrose brought her hand up and pulled James closer, he knew he had convinced her. The kiss was nothing like either had experienced. He held her there for a moment smiling down at her because it felt right being with her. It was the ringing of her cell phone that broke her daze and Ambrose pulled away avoiding the temptation to look James in the eyes.

“Rose are you in Europe?”

“Of course not, I‘m at a conference in Texas,” she responds.

“Then what time is it?”

“I can‘t check I‘m on the phone with you.”

“Ask someone then.”

“Fine I‘m in fucking London, how‘d you even know I was out of the country,” Ambrose says.

“I went to visit your stoner roommates, they let it slip.”

“Pinche Kyle. They didn‘t kill Edgar did they?”

“Edgar is alright, just constantly stoned. They smoke all the time.”

“Better than living with coke whores. Can you keep it quiet on the whole being out of country, I don’t need to be hounded with questions.”

“What are you doing out there?”

“Just a few things, no worries, I’ll stop by Phoenix and stay for a couple of weeks.”

“What are you doing about money? I mean you can‘t miss this much work can you?”

“Don‘t worry about the money or job, Just don‘t go running your mouth about this to Mom, I‘ve got enough to worry about,” she responds with a sigh.

“Fine, just don’t get into any trouble,” he finally says.

“Thanks Mike.”

Ambrose got off the phone and ran her hand through he messy hair. James stood there feeling like there was a secret she was keeping that she kept from everyone. There was something off with the way she acted and when she looked up to see James staring she gave a weak smile.

“Let me take you somewhere,” James states before Ambrose could say anything.

“James-”

“I thought of a good wall,” he says not letting her object.

“Where?”

“Come on, I‘ll show you.”

For some reason she went along with it and let James take her by the hand to lead the way. She couldn’t help but smile. He made her see parts of London she hadn’t discovered before. James was determined to win her over and convince Ambrose that he was someone she could trust.

Standing in front of the wall she saw the Bansky art painted on it.

“Bansky.”

“You know his work?”

“Yeah, he opened the door for street artists to be seen and
heard, not to mention he managed to add humor the worst truths,” Ambrose says brushing her fingertips against the wall.

“So you are a fan,” he comments.

“Very much so, it makes me sad I‘ll never get to have an actual conversation with him. The man is elusive, its like chasing smoke, you can‘t catch him.”

“So you‘ve tried?”

“No not really, why seek out someone who isn‘t looking to be found?” she counters with a smile.

“I suppose you‘re right,” James counters then noticed the black paint that was smudged on her forearm, “Are you one of them?”

“One of what?”

“A street artist,” he continues.

“I‘m no artist.” Ambrose replies simply.

“You know the more you be mysterious the more I become interested.”

“That was never my intention. Perhaps I should elaborate more so you lose interest.”

“I wouldn‘t lose interest.”

“You seem so convinced.”

“I like you, I figure I should make that known.”

“You are making this so hard for me,” she whispers as he tugged her closer.

“Tomorrow night I‘ll make us dinner at my place, you can chose to come or not,” James states.

“If I don‘t come?”

“Then I‘ll leave you alone.”

“Okay,” Ambrose replies softly.

James gave her the address to his home and hoped that she would come to that dinner. Ambrose left but not without glancing out the taxi cab window to look at James. The weather was still nice up until she left James, the rain began to pour down, leaving any chance of finishing her project that night to nothing. She wanted to get things done but a terrible headache came over her while she waited for the rain to stop. The pain was terrible and she attempted to soothe the pain by taking her prescriptions. Sometimes she got like this she had to rest, it wasn’t smart to stress herself out and she took the pills to help her get that rest.

When she woke, its was already late afternoon and she saw the rain was done for the time being. Ambrose found herself wandering around the streets of London finding the right wall to paint on. It was when she found the perfect wall that just called to her, she realized how she’d be done soon. Out of curiosity she asked a store owner about the address James had given her. To her surprise she was told it was only two blocks away from where she stood. This made her slightly uneasy and she sat down at a nearby park bench that was across the street from James’ so called building.

James was finishing the chicken parmesan but looking at the clock he kept pacing, wondering if Ambrose was going to show up. He looked out his window, the street lights lighting the outside he saw a familiar pair of cowboy boots and wild curls sitting at the park bench across the street. There was a sketchy looking man that was approaching her and James felt that something was off about him. James immediately bolted for the door to stop anything from happening.

Ambrose looked up to see the man and he went to grab her arm but she moved out of his way. But he persisted with at twisted smile on his pretty.

“Come on love, let‘s see what I‘ve got to work with,” he says.

“I am warning you buddy, I will personally make a handbag out of your nut sack and drain your body of all its blood then donate it to the nearest hospital,” Ambrose responds in a calm eerie tone.

“You‘re bloody insane.”

“Honey, I am your worst nightmare now run along before I have to go through with my threats.”

He looked at her calm yet threatening features, to the trained eye she looked like an easy target but there was madness in her eyes that said she just didn’t give a damn. During this stare down James made it downstairs and burst through the doors.

“Get the hell away from her!”

“Keep the crazy twat,” the man mutters walking away.

“Damn, here I thought I was going to get a new clutch to match my black dress,” she retorts sardonically as the man began to break into a sprint.

“Did he hurt you?” James questions taking her hands and examining the state she was in.

“No.”

“Are sure maybe you‘re in shock.”

“James, I am just fine,” Ambrose says taking his face in her hands and gave a reassuring smile.

“You decided to come.”

“Well kinda not really, I went walking and somehow I ended up being close by. But technically I didn‘t go knocking on your door.”

“Its just across the street, I‘ve got dinner ready and everything,” he responds.

“You really cooked dinner?” she questions.

“I did.”

“I thought you were joking.”

“Come on before it gets cold,” James says taking her hand in his. Ambrose let out a chuckle and a smile that James took as a good sign. She nodded and got up to follow James across the street. Her smile was contagious and James couldn’t help but smile with her. They made it into his apartment and James kindly took her coat as well as her unusually large purse.

“What do you carry in this thing?”

“Bowling ball and some bubblegum.”

“Must be the bubblegum,” James smiles.

The pair ate the meal James had prepared and then during their conversation Ambrose’s cell phone went off. She ignored the phone knowing the ring tone. James thought she was ignoring her phone to be polite.

“You can answer your phone if you‘d like, I won‘t think you‘re impolite.”

“I already know who‘s calling and they always find a way to upset me.”

“Bad ex-boyfriend?”

“More or less, thank the lord for assigned ringers or I‘d actually have to talk to some people,” she jokes.

“Caller id does help to avoid people,” James counters with a smile. It had been several moments before the phone beeped to signify the end of the voicemail the caller had left, her smile left momentarily at the thought of having to listening to that message.

“I haven‘t had a home cooked meal for a few weeks now, so thanks for this.”

“How long has it been?”

“Six weeks.”

“That‘s insanity, why haven‘t you had any home cooked meals?”

“Because I haven‘t been home. This is the last country on the map then I fly home.”

“So you‘ve just been backpacking around and exploring the area?”

“If I were to tell you something would you be able to keep it
secret?” Ambrose says finally.

“Of course.”

“Back home people count on me to cheer them up and have a good time. Then I realized I won‘t always be there to do that so I started putting the things I write up in public places. But it got out of hand, I got too much joy out of seeing people‘s reactions and interpretations of my writing,” she admits as she took out a leather bound book. “My full name is Ambrose Natalia Turkinski. But this is what I‘m known for.”

James began looking through the book that held the different pictures of places that had words painted on the sides of walls. The words all had meaning even had weight to them, he had heard of ANT but he never thought that Ambrose was this mysterious artist.

“I would have never guessed.”

“No one has to be fair,” Ambrose smiles.

“Am I the only one to know?”

“Some street artists know me in LA but they don‘t know my real name. So in a way, yes you are one of the only people
that know.”

“And your family?”

“My older brother knows but no one else.”

“So why tell me?”

“I figured it was the nice thing to do since you made me dinner,” she states.

“Well now I know why you are in Europe, you are expanding your work.”

“I figured you depressing Europeans needed some enlightenment. Plus I had to see Jim Morrison‘s grave.”

“Of course,” James smiles. Ambrose got out of her seat and grabbed her plate then began heading to the kitchen with no such luck. James rose from his seat grabbing his own empty plate then grabbed hers. “I‘m not letting you clean up.”

“Fine then we‘ll both clean up,” Ambrose retorts with a somewhat defiant smile. James smiled back at her and the two began cleaning the dishes together. It was a bit quiet until James playfully splashed water at Ambrose. With that little splash, it was turned into a full blown water fight. He slipped on the wet floor and pulled Ambrose down with him as they both laughed. The laughter stopped when James looked at Ambrose with extreme tenderness as he pushed the hair from her murky green eyes. Their lips touched every so lightly and James pulled her body closer to his. Ambrose couldn’t help herself any longer and gave into James. As the cliché would go, the gloves were off, and well so were their clothes.

“I probably wouldn‘t have gone in if you hadn‘t come to get me,” Ambrose admits.

“Good thing I came out then huh?” he replies tugging her closer in his bed just as a pitter patter began on the bedroom window.

“It's raining again.”

“I suppose that means you just have to stay longer, you know until the rain lets up.”

“If the rain lets up,” she says with a yawn. After a while of listening to both the rain and the beat of James’ heart, Ambrose fell asleep. She felt content in his arms, not even feeling uncomfortable with his arm around her as she usually felt. Never had she been so relaxed in someone else’s arms.

It was impossible to think she would ever feel this way about anyone. For the remainder of her time in London she spent it being with James, somehow in between it all she managed to finish the last project. The last day in London James took Ambrose to have lunch with his parents. He was pleased to see how well liked she was among them even if things had gone a bit fast. On the car ride to the airport, Ambrose felt awful.

“I’ll come visit you,” James states giving her hand a squeeze.

“Alright.”

She spoke very little words and James saw the sadness in her eyes. He didn’t want her to go, he wanted her to stay in London with him. It took every fiber of her being not to cry, as she kissed James for the last time. There was a certain finality to the kiss that unnerved James but he chose to ignore it. When she left he felt empty, when she arrived in Phoenix she felt worse. Her car awaited in the parking garage and she threw her things in the beat up mustang then decided it was time to come clean with her parents. She drove to her family’s home and grew shaky as she reached the door. When their daughter showed up looking so pale and miserable they braced themselves for the worst.

“Papa I have brain cancer and its too late for treatment.”

“Ambrose do not joke about these things,” her father responds hoping that it was just a cruel joke. But his daughter merely shook her head, tears running down her face.

“They say I don‘t have a lot of time,” Ambrose cries.

“My baby,” he mother sobs throwing her arms around her daughter.

For the next few weeks, her condition advanced and worsened. James would call but Ambrose was far too exhausted and ill to talk long. He worried because each time he called the weaker Ambrose sounded. She reassured him each time that she was just fine and that was when she was in the hospital. Deep in his gut he knew something was wrong and he booked a ticket to see her. When he arrived in Phoenix he called her again to only have a man answer. It was her father Norman and he demanded to know just who the hell was bothering his daughter when she was dying. Shocked and panicked beyond belief James took a taxi straight to the hospital.

Ambrose spoke of James to her family only when they asked and the information she gave was very scarce, they just knew that when he called her face lit up. She sat teaching her five year old nephew how to play poker.

“Charlie now remember, if you don‘t have the cards, it doesn‘t mean you lose, it just means you‘ve got to convince the other person you have good cards,” she states pointedly.

“So I just pretend?”

“Yes darling you pretend.”

They played the game and little Charlie peered over his cards with a concentrated look on his face. James arrived at the hospital and inquired where Ambrose was staying. The nurse was about to tell him it was family only she recognized who he was and decided to tell him. He reached the room to see Ambrose playing cards with a cute little boy. She smiled even though it hurt and James hated to see her so sick.

“Daddy says something‘s wrong with your head,” Charlie says.

“Do you want to know what‘s wrong with it?”

“Yeah.”

“I‘m too smart, my brain keeps trying to grow,” she smiles.

“Well that‘s not very smart.”

“You‘re telling me,” Ambrose laughs.

“Ro can we watch Transformers?” Charlie inquires with hopeful eyes. Ambrose smiled softly then noticed James standing in the doorway.

“James?”

“I tried to call but your father answered,” James says feebly.

“Yea he took my cell phone,” she states then saw Charlie shying away slightly, “Charlie this is my friend James. James this is my nephew Charlie.”

“Hello,” Charlie says.

“Very nice to meet you Charlie, your aunt always talks about you,” he responds with a friendly smile. Charlie spotted his father and walked off to go get him. Ambrose was sure to see that Mike indeed had Charlie and James couldn’t help but smile seeing her interact with the young boy. Once they were alone, Ambrose looked at James with apologetic eyes.

“I‘m sorry, I should have told you I was sick.”

“How long have you known?”

“A couple months,” she admits.

“This is why you tried to keep your distance?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to get better?” James inquires with hope as she sat in the chair next to her bed.

“No James, I‘m not going to get any better,” Ambrose answers.

“But-”

“How‘s my favorite patient?” an older man smiles entering the room with a clip board.

“Still dying but pleasant nonetheless Dr. Patel,” she smiles softly.

“That‘s what I like to hear. How are the new drugs?”

“Very drug-like.”

“I really appreciate you volunteering for my trial,” Dr. Patel says.

“Its no problem.”

“I‘m very sorry that you have to stay here, its just easier for us to monitor you this way.”

“That‘s fine, I‘m just here to help you out,” Ambrose says with a yawn.

“I‘ll leave you to talk with your visitor.”

Dr. Patel left the room and James wanted to yell at Ambrose for not telling him but looking at her he just couldn’t do it. James took her hand in his instead then kissed her hand tenderly.

“I don‘t think I was ever going to tell you,” she admits locking eyes with James.

“Then it’s a good thing I came here then huh?” James smiles. Ambrose chuckled lightly and a smile found its way on her face. He loved that she still smiled and couldn’t help but kiss her. They hardly spoke because Ambrose was both tired and hardly had much to say. James could see that she was exhausted and he just stroked her small hand.

“I‘m glad you showed up,” Ambrose mutters tiredly.

“I couldn‘t stay away,” he replies stroking the side of her face with his other hand. She soon fell asleep as his touch. James kissed her forehead and couldn’t help but stare at her peaceful sleeping frame. He noticed the significant amount of weight she had lost and her hair had lost its sheen. Ambrose was slipping away from him, the future he dreamed of having with her was now just a distant memory.

Two days later Ambrose had passed away. James’ dreams were shattered.