Mirrors

May 4th, early afternoon

After doing one of my "final" checks of everything we packed, making sure everything that was important was either in a box or our luggage, I sat down on the couch with Hudson and joined him for a "friendly" game of Forza Motorsport. He's a competitor, if it wasn't already evident.

He told me that he wanted to keep the xbox plugged in as long as possible before we packed it up along with the t.v; he liked his game and played it whenever he had the time.

I laughed as he tried to nudged the controller out of my hands as we raced our virtual cars, I shrugged him off and elbowed his controller.

"Gah! I can't believe you're winning!" He chuckled, his eyes glued to the screen. I laughed loudly as I manoeuvred my red car along the track. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're a girl, you're not supposed to be good at games." He joked. I rolled my eyes and elbowed him, giggling at his boyish humour.

"I grew up with two brothers, I know video games." I grinned.

My cell phone then began to buzz from my pocket. I paused the game and irritated Hudson when I did, I just laughed and took my phone. It was an unknown number to me and I couldn't help but make a face as I answered it, "Hello?"

"Hello there, is this Avery...Hudson? Or Moore? I'm not sure what last name you go by." A professional male voice asked me.

"Uh, it's Avery Hudson. Who's calling?" I looked at Hudson and made a confused face.

"My name is Christopher Bollen, I'm the editor-in-chief of Andy Warhol's Interview magazine. I've spent a great deal of time trying to track you down and get your number. Um, I've contacted your previous employer but he's refused to speak to me; Jann and I don't exactly see eye to eye. But I did manage to track down your former assistant, Matthew Boyd and he's given me this number."

"Oh..okay, so what exactly are you calling about?"

"Well, first I'm actually a big fan of your work."

I blushed and smiled slightly, "Thank you."

"And I've actually been monitoring you. Not in the creepy 'I've set up hidden cameras so I could watch you' way, but just by reading the articles you've contributed to in Rolling Stone. And when I found out that Jann let you go, I've been working like crazy to contact you. I think your style of writing is interesting. It brings a sense of realism and rawness to the reader, and it brings a sort of connection, and I like that. One thing I noticed was that compared to everything else written in Rolling Stone, they sort of suppressed your creativity. Did you feel that at all?"

I nodded, "Yeah I did."

"Another thing I've noticed is your attention to detail, and your potential talent as a photographer. The spread you did on Billie Joe Armstrong blew me away and it's what I'm looking for. So what I'm getting at is that I'd like to meet you, and if all goes well and you like what I have to say, I wanna offer you a position here at Interview magazine. Our office is located here in New York."

My jaw dropped and I smiled again, "Really? I mean, like, we haven't met and you're already offering me a job."

"I appreciate your artistic abilities unlike Jann. And what other way to stick it the guy then offer his former apprentice and frankly, the best thing that's happened to the magazine, a stepping stone in her career. Without even having to meet you, I know I want you on my team. But just for the sake of being professional, I would like to see you. Are you busy today?"

"Um, not at the moment, in a couple hours I will be though." I scratched my head.

"Perfect. Meet me as soon as possible and if you can, bring a portfolio. It's 575 Broadway, 10012 SoHo. We're on the fifth floor."

"Wow, I'll be there in like, ten minutes. I actually live on Greene Street."

"That's not that far way, brilliant. I'll be seeing you soon Miss Hudson."

"Okay, bye." I grinned. Hudson smiled at me with anticipation, "Who was that?"

"His name is Christopher Bollen, he's the editor-in-chief of Interview Magazine. He's offering me a job with the magazine." I chuckled, still in shock.

He grinned, "Really? That's great, are you going to meet him?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go right now." I smiled, standing up.

"I thought you were gonna apply at National Geographic?" He followed me, asking out of curiosity. We went into the bedroom and I pulled out my portfolio from my carry-on bag. "I am. I'm just waiting till we go to London. But I just don't have any references. I'll still apply though."

After I grabbed my purse and a light jacket, I walked out to the front door, again he followed me. "Do you think this magazine will let you write abroad?"

I stopped. I hadn't thought of that. Biting my lip, I turned to him, "I don't know...I hope so."

He smiled and took my hand, pulling me close to him. "Don't worry Avery, I'm sure they will. They went to all this effort to call you up, I don't think they'd let you go like that." He held my chin and kissed me deeply and slowly.

I blushed after he left me breathless, he hasn't kissed me like that in a long time. It also reminded me that we haven't made love in a long time either. I kissed his cheek, "Thank you. I'll be back."

He smiled and held the door open as he watched me go.

I gazed up at the large brick building before entering in. The lobby had a casual chic vibe that made me fit right in as I wore jeans, a nice top and a scarf. I approached the receptionist who sat at her desk and stared at her computer screen, typing quickly on the keyboard. She immediately noticed me and smiled, "Hello, can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Christopher Bollen. My name is Avery Hudson."

She quickly typed into her computer and nodded, "Alright, take the elevator up to the fifth floor. His assistant will be waiting for you. Her name is Natalie, I'll let Mr. Bollen know you're here." She reached for her phone as I thanked her and left toward the pair of elevators.

After a short ride up to the fifth floor, I was greeted by a casually dressed girl, Natalie. As I followed her through the office and past the desks and employees, I was immediately attracted to the relaxed atmosphere of the place. An electro indie-pop remix of a Rihanna song was playing from a computer and everyone seemed to be in a good mood, some were laughing and some were working at their desks. A few hipsters were here too, working seemingly harmoniously with "mainstream" people.

Natalie opened the door into Mr. Bollen's office and let him know I was here, and after ushering me in, she left.

He smiled and rose from his desk, extending an arm as he fixed the lapel on his jacket. "Avery, I'm Christopher Bollen. You can call me Chris."

"It's nice to meet you, thank you for calling me." I smiled back at him. He was an attractive guy, maybe in his mid-late-thirties. He looks professional but he also looks like he's got some stories, like he'd be the guy you'd see at a warehouse party in the meatpacking district, drinking an Old Fashioned.

"No, thank you for coming to this impromptu interview. I've been eager to finally meet you. Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I've got juice, pop, water, coffee, tea, alcohol." He grinned. I gave a laugh, "No thanks, I'm good for now."

"Okay." He sat back down and clasped his hands together, resting them on his desk. "So have you brought me a portfolio?"

"Oh, yeah." I was quickly reminded, "Here you go." I handed him the folder that held my writings and photos. He opened it up and silently and briefly read through some of my things, smiling, and taking long gazes at my photos as if he were pondering them. "I really like this piece right here, the article you wrote on the Macklemore and Ryan Lewis song, Same Love and how you applied to your own feelings. That's what readers like, they like when you get personal and that you can relate to it, 'cause in a sense it's like it's encouraging them to express themselves too and be like, 'hey, I feel that way too.'"

I smiled sheepishly, "Thank you. That was one of my favourite things to write about too. It really hits home for me, like, as it says in there my brother being gay and the struggles he's gone through."

"And these pictures. I love them, they're stunning and they tell a story. You almost don't even need to write a description along with them, they just don't need it. That's how good they are."

I bit my lip and gave a small smile, I was silent as I waited for him to continue. He closed the portfolio and slid it across his desk toward me. "I hope you don't mind, I had asked Jann why you left, he said you were fired. What were the reasons? 'Cause he said you were taking too many days off and being tardy."

"Yeah, um, I guess I wasn't taking my job too seriously early this year. I got married in December and left on a month long honeymoon. And after that my husband and I would just up and go on vacations." I shrugged my shoulders.

"Wow, a month long vacation? I can't remember the last time I went on a vacation." He chuckled, "Well at least you're being honest. I don't really know why Jann was making a big deal of it, you're an artist. Inspiration comes from anywhere, at anytime. We shouldn't be restricted to an office if that isn't where we get our creative flow."

"That's so true." I smiled.

"Now, drumroll please, for the moment we've all been waiting for. Would you like to be a staff writer for our magazine? I can see you as a writer really in any of our topics; music, arts and culture, nightlife, fashion. You can write in all of them if you'd like."

I smiled excitedly, "I would love to, and I would be honoured to. I just have one thing to bring up."

He nodded and waited for me.

"I'm moving to London tomorrow. I'll most likely be living there permanently." I held my breath.

He smiled, "How chic. Then I guess you'll be our London correspondent."

I gave a sigh of relief and smiled brightly, "You mean you'll let me write abroad?"

He leaned back into his seat and smirked, raising his shoulders, "I won't let you get away that easily. I want you to work for us."

"Oh Chris, this is amazing. This is more than I could ever ask for. Thank you." I clasped my hands together.

"I'm glad to hear that. So when would you like to start?" He asked.

"Um, well...probably this week I'll be busy getting settled into our home. But um, how 'bout on Sunday, the 12th?"

"Perfect. It'll give you time to think of what you want to name your personal column."

I looked up at him in surprise, "My own column?"

Nodding his head, he smiled warmly. "I was impressed with Avery's Top 5 in Rolling Stone, it's a shame they let you go 'cause that was what brought in the readers. I want you to have you're own column, write whatever you want, send it to me after you're done and I'll publish it."

I stood up and was beaming, "Thank you so much. Thank you."

He joined me in standing and walked around his desk to shake my hand once again. "I'm glad to have you on our team. Now let me go introduce you to everyone."

Another thought came to mind and I stopped, "Wait, Chris. One last thing, I don't know if it'd be a problem, but um, I'm pregnant."

He stopped and turned to me with a smile, "I don't see why that'd be a problem. Congratulations."

I smiled.

After leaving out the lobby of the building, I turned the corner and leaned against the the brick side as I dug my phone out from my purse. I was beaming. I can't believe it, I have a job again. It's like a dream, it's perfect, and the employees are so nice, Chris is so nice.

For a moment I stilled, knowing that I wanted to share this news with everyone, but mostly I wanted to talk to Christian. I scrolled through my phone to his name and without hesitation I called him. Holding the phone to my ear, I listened to the dial tone waiting for him to answer, but it went straight to voicemail. I ended the call, not wanting to leave a message.

I stood there and furrowed my brow, gnawing at the inside of my cheek. Maybe he just turned his phone off. Again I scrolled through the names and found Amelia's, calling her as soon as I found her number.

"Hi." She cheerfully answered her phone.

"Amelia, I'm gonna go see him. Christian." I spoke quietly.

"You are?" I could feel her smiling on the other line.

"Yeah, I need to."

"Okay, that sounds good. Are you okay?" She sounded concerned.

"Yeah, I'm good. If anyone asks where I am, just tell them I'm with you."

"For sure." She replied.

"Thank you. I'll call you later, or I guess see you later." I smiled.

"Okay, see you later."

I hung up and walked toward the edge of the sidewalk, hailing down a cab. I asked them to drive me to the Dakota building, east of Central Park. As the car drove on, my heart pounded so loudly in my chest, I could feel the beat in my head. My fingers interlaced and nervously fidgeted as I anticipated seeing him again. In my heart I wanted to throw my arms around him as soon as he opened the door, and kiss him over and over again.

And if he asked me to stay with him, then I would.

The car parked in front of the building and I quickly paid the driver before shambling out of the backseat of the car and up to the stoop of the building. I raced up the stairs and pressed his buzzer a few times. When he didn't answer, I was lucky to slip into the building after a postal worker left.

The elevator ride felt like the longest ride in history as I watched the floor numbers slowly increase till the reached the seventh floor. When the doors opened I practically sprinted out and ran down the hall to his door, my heart ready to explode and a smile on my face, I knew what I wanted. It's him. It's always been him, and I'm ready.

I knocked wildly on his door, "Christian! Christian, please open the door, it's me Avery." My smile faltered when there was no answer, but I persisted and knocked again. "Christian, I'm here, please let me in."

It was silent.

I placed my hand against the door, "Christian?"

"Can I help you?" I was startled by a voice down the hall, I jumped and stared at the guy. It wasn't Christian. This guy was coming down the hall with keys in his hand and by his side must have been his pregnant wife.

"I'm looking for Christian Reid, he lives here." I panted.

His keys rattled as he stuck a key into the lock. "Christian? We were his neighbours. He actually doesn't live here anymore, he moved out about a week ago. A huge moving truck was in the street and all his belonging were being taken down."

My heart sank, it dropped, it died and I fell back against the door. Tears welling up in my eyes and my throat drying like a desert. "He left?" I whispered.

The pregnant woman looked concerned and stepped forward. "He said something about moving back to California, I guess that's where he's from or where he used to live. Are you alright? Do you need help?"

I covered my mouth and started to cry, "I'm fine." I ran past them and back to the elevators, I took out my phone and called Amelia, falling back against the wall and sliding down to the floor.

"Hi Avery." She answered cheerfully again.

"He's gone." I sobbed, "He's gone, Amelia. He left New York." I made a fist in my hair as I cried in the empty elevator. "It's over. It's really over, Amelia. I don't know what to do." I cried.

"Are you at the Dakota right now? I'll be right there to pick you up." She replied.

"Yes." I uttered.

"I'll be right there, stay there Avery." She quickly spoke and hung up. I covered my face and cried.

He's gone.