Pictures and Some Memories

The day that followed the encounter I had with Zacky was one filled with me trying to distract myself in every way possible. Desperate to lose myself in something, I headed into town and found a few of the galleries I used to frequent as a teen and found myself feeling more conflicted as I explored the arts district. So much had changed and yet had also stayed the same since I left. A few new shops opened up, including a vintage clothing store, an organic smoothie stand, and of course, you can't have an arts district without an indie coffee place competing with the Starbucks down the block. I spent quite a bit of time in the vintage store, buying clothes that I knew would only weigh my suitcase down. Shame and guilt had once again accompanied me as I ambled on, but they almost felt as natural as the freckles on my skin.

As I went into my favorite gallery, I felt as if I were betraying my teenage self as I observed the new showcase. I had always vowed to be loyal, to not treat anyone as I've been treated in past relationships, and now I was doing the opposite. I was confused about my feelings, about where I kept my loyalties, about everything.

Deep in the chaos that controlled my mind, I was startled out of my daze when I realized I'd been stuck standing in front of painting featuring a female's hand reaching for a male's hand, only her fingertips had seemingly burned as she just barely touched the male's. I saw the price and immediately found the rep for the gallery to buy it, unable to let myself part with it, even if I had to ship it to the loft.

I wasn't sure why I liked it so much, though. Yes, it was hyper-realistic, one of my favorite styles, but it wasn't necessarily avant-garde like many of the other pieces I gravitated toward. It was hard to describe, like those moments where you feel something in your heart that you can't quite place but ultimately know is right. That's how I felt every time I looked at this painting, and I honestly felt my excitement grow as I drove home to show Larkin before we headed to the rehearsal dinner later on.

"Is this something you did in high school?" He asked, only a few seconds after observing it.

"No, this is from my favorite local gallery," I replied, slightly offended. "Why do you ask?"

"I remember you telling me about your oil paint and human anatomy phase your senior year of high school and just assumed. It's a little immature, don't you think?"

"Not at all! There's so much symbolism hidden in plain sight and--"

"Are you really arguing with me on this? It's just some painting. Do you even know who painted it?"

"The artist prefers to remain anonymous," I replied quickly. "And yes, I am. Why is it you hate everything I love?"

"I don't hate everything you love. It's just that your taste in art could use some more maturity, sophistication."

With that, we let each other be. I knew that if I dignified that with a response, it'd lead to another fight and I had plenty to feel like shit over in the first place. Another argument with him would drive me over the edge.

Larkin sensed this, too, or at least sensed that another argument would be catastrophic for the time being. Instead of complaining about how long I took to get ready, he complimented me profusely before I drove us to the church, where he also kept his mouth shut when it came to his discomfort with my speeding. I couldn't tell you who was more relieved to have arrived, though, because as soon as I parked we both jumped out as fast as we could.

After we both admired the stained glass that was featured in the entry of the large sanctuary, he traded my arm for my hand and held it tightly, protective. I hadn't known why he had the sudden change in heart until I followed his not so secret glare to the cause of my inner turmoil to the altar, where he stood talking with Jimmy and Cara, grinning widely. Even though he was speaking to the two of them, his eyes held mine, filled with the same mischief that told me he'd definitely given our encounter some thought since it occurred the day before. My chest tightened. It was going to be a long night.

"Andi, are you alright? You look feverish," Cara, concern in her soft voice, asked as she gave me a hug.

I nodded, quickly saying "Long sleeves may not have been my smartest choice in a church with a good furnace."

"Well, I can fix that," Jimmy said, his long fingers easily pushing my black cotton sleeves up onto my forearm, revealing my tattoos while I was still holding onto his soon-to-be wife. I couldn't help but laugh at the gangly drummer. "Thanks, Jimbo."

"I'm here to help," he grinned before squeezing me into a bone crushing hug, despite the fact I'd seen him 24 hours before. During this, Larkin had greeted Cara and Zacky politely (albeit, briefly with the latter of those two and didn't dare mention the sucker punch from the other night), before Jimmy released me just as quickly as he grabbed me.

Breathless, I looked over to Zacky, where the hardly-resolved tension from the day before returned as I smiled weakly and said, "Hey, Z," the habit that I hated to know would never die. "How are you?"

"I'm good, Andi. My jaw is still a bit sore, but that whiskey you gave me really helped with that," he replied, and to curious onlookers like Larkin, you wouldn't be able to tell that he was fighting hard to keep a shit-eating, satisfied smile off of his face.

"Well, my boyfriend has a mean right hook. Nurse it with some whiskey for another night and you should be fine for the wedding."

He seemed shocked to see that I'd caught on to him, and to be completely honest, I wasn't sure why I was playing along. Maybe it was for the feeling of Larkin's proud hand in mine, or the addictive sight of seeing fire in Zacky's eyes once again. I smirked before stepping down from the altar and back to a curious looking Cara, who glanced between the both of us briefly as I leaned into Larkin's side. Silent communication was passed onto Jimmy as they shared a sideways look briefly before the conversation shifted back to casual chit chat. I snuck a look in Zacky's direction and saw a mischievous smirk on his face, our eyes locking for a few moments.

Game on, I thought to myself.

The sanctuary began to fill with more and more people as time passed, and by seven p.m., the entire wedding party had arrived, voices echoing in the large room as hello's were exchanged. I mingled with many familiar faces and introduced Larkin as well, yet still kept my eye on Zacky's movements as he fluidly navigated our mutual friends. Perhaps I wasn't being secretive enough, because Larkin kept trying to pull my attention back to him and looked annoyed with my actions. I automatically told myself to just say I was being wary of what he'd do, but the fact that the lie came so easily shamed me enough to stop sneaking for the time being.

"Hey, everyone!" Cara called out suddenly, freezing all conversation with her infamously powerful voice. "Welcome to our rehearsal and thank you for being a part of our nuptials. As most of you know, we're having a traditional Catholic ceremony that follows a strict order, so, will you please bear with us as we try to get it mostly right? Trust me, Jimmy and I have made sure that the dinner afterward is not only delicious, but also has an open bar. So, I guess you could use that as motivation to get it down fast, because, I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving, so let's get to it?"

She and Jimmy then looked to the priest to begin, where they were instructed to line us up in order for the beginning of the ceremony. I kissed Larkin goodbye and followed the group into the small hallway, where we circled around Cara and her long list of pairings.

"Brian and Charlotte are first, then Sanders and Violet, followed by Zacky with Andi, Johnny with my sister, Genevieve..." She began reading methodically, my eyes widening as she continued down the list. As soon as she finished, the people mixed and she shot me an apologetic look. "When I had the original line up, that's--"

"No, no, it's okay," I automatically assured her. "Your wedding, your way, I'm no one to tell you different. I'm just surprised."

"I swear, I had told the both of you beforehand. Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nodded as he approached, my cue to take my place beside him.

"I can't wait to see the look on his face," Zacky murmured as we lined up behind Charlotte and Brian, a chuckle escaping his lips.

I rolled my eyes. "It'll be no different than his expression currently, trust me."

"And what would that be?" he asked, raising a dark eyebrow in my direction.

"Pride knowing that his girlfriend's loyalties are invested in the right person."

"Does the girlfriend feel that her loyalties are in the right place, or is she just fronting and trying to push her past from her future?"

My bored expression faltered ever-so-slightly at his rhetorical question. "Why are you so adamant about this?"

"Because I know you," he replied simply as we began to move, ever so slowly.

"Oh, do you?" I asked, although that was a stupid question. He's winning.

He gave me a smirk, one that told me he knew he was ahead. "Yeah. Just like you know me more than you'd like to admit, too."

We reached the aisle then, and he stuck out his arm for me to hold onto formally. I told myself that I grabbed it firmly because everyone was watching. That was my story I planned on going with, anyways. Once we reached Jimmy, we both did a formal bow before taking our respective places on the opposite sides of pews. I felt several eyes burning into me at that moment, but I chose to stare ahead and admired the beautiful arches that Jimmy and Cara would be standing underneath.

Soon enough, the rehearsal had finished, and before I knew it, I was on my third Jack and Coke as I listened to Larkin ramble on about God knows what with one of Cara's friends from college. I excused myself discreetly as I moved to step outside and have a quick smoke; Carly was going to be pissed when I returned home and found out I'd picked up the habit again. Of course, there he was, looking over the third floor balcony with a freshly lit cigarette dangling from his lips. His hair, freshly cut and a clean shave to match, was as dark as the quickly approaching night.

"Got a light?" I called out, my natural accent picking up on the I. He laughed, like every time he noticed my accent before this, and pulled his silver Zippo from his back pocket and handed it to me, our fingertips barely brushing against one another.

And yet, I felt that chill go down my spine once again.

I quickly lit my cigarette and handed the lighter back. "Thanks," I murmured as I exhaled, velvet smoke circling the both of us.

"I thought you quit," he says conversationally.

"I did," I said, flicking the ash over the railing. "For six years, I did."

"What changed?"

I saw you again. I only shot him a look before returning to surveying our surroundings.

He stayed silent for a few moments. We both finished more than half of our respective cigarettes before he said, "You're afraid of him."

"What?"

"You're terrified of your own boyfriend. That's why your eyes keep darting to the door, why you're so jumpy tonight. You're scared of what he'll do if he found out that you were out here, with me, and that's the most fucked thing about it all."

I swallowed, trying to keep my composure. "Andi, you deserve better than that, and you know it."

"Don't," I breathed, "Don't tell me that. I cannot handle this shit right now. I get enough of it from everyone else. Just don't."

I dared to look him in the eye, and was once again met with everything I'd pushed down, hidden away in the deepest parts of my mind. "You're torturing yourself. You're not even happy, Andi. The strong woman I know is in there somewhere. He's just convinced her that she's not good enough and for some stupid reason, she believed it."

I hissed in pain then, the ash of my cigarette burning my finger. I hastily put it out and looked toward him again, but he was already just a shadow returning to the light inside.

Fight or flight, Andi, I told myself as I debated going after him. I shivered in the cool air and decided to find him. I had no idea what I was going to do or say, but I couldn't ignore the feeling in my bones that told me to find him.

I stepped back inside, my eyes scanning the crowd for him once again. I caught sight of him at the end of the bar and made a beeline for him, only to be stopped by Larkin, who currently blocked my path.

"There you are," he grinned, although it didn't match his eyes. "You've been awfully quiet tonight. Are you alright?"

"I'm great," I lied breathlessly. "Actually, can you get something from the car for me? I think I left my journal with the speech I'm supposed to read tomorrow night in the backseat."

"Of course, sweetheart," he nodded quickly, kissing my forehead and taking the keys to my Mustang from me.

"That should give me a few minutes," I muttered to myself as I turned to the end of the bar I'd last seen Zacky at. Instead of finding him, I ended up bumping into someone, nearly knocking them over despite my height.

"Mrs. Rowlins?" I gasped as soon as the woman turned to apologize. Although I fully respected my former art teacher/mentor, a familiar tinge of anger coursed through my veins at the memory of what her daughter had done to me after I had revealed that I'd gotten into NYU and she hadn't. She and her mother weren't spitting images of each other, but they had the same warm brown eyes, the kind that-- in Jourdan's case-- could easily deceive. Her mother, on the other hand, had become the mother figure I needed while in high school, even offering me special access to the studio at school whenever I lost my workspace when I moved in with my older brother during my senior year.

She gave me a warm smile before pulling me into a maternal hug. "Andria, I was hoping I'd run into you tonight! How are you? You've been gone for so long, and I've always wondered how everything worked out for you after graduation."

I laughed nervously before giving her a brief overview of my last few years of trying to make it. "My boyfriend, Larkin, just went outside to go get something for me, actually," I tacked on after I saw her eyes light up at the sound of me moving on from the last guy she'd known of (or my attempt to, anyways.)

"Have you talked to Zacky since the both of you parted ways? He's having a real hard time right now, no thanks to my daughter."

"I don't think I know what you're talking about," I replied, my stomach beginning to churn. I hoped the assumption that had just popped into my head was just a petty, jealous thought.

"Well, a few years back, I suppose he decided to give her another chance and they ended up having a child together. And as you and I both know, she's been on and off drugs since she could sneak out of the house in high school, and she relapsed big time after the baby was born. Then one day, she brings my grandson to my home and says, 'I can't do this anymore', all the while Zack's still on his first tour since she had Nicholas. We haven't heard from or seen her since."

"I didn't know that, actually," I whispered, and she sighed, confirming my worst fears. "Jane, I'm so sorry to hear that, I truly am."

"Well, he's a good father, and I take turns with his side of the family on taking care of Nicholas when he's away. He's better off, as bad of a parent that makes me to admit."

I let the anger build up within me, angry that I'd let myself be fooled by what I thought I wanted instead of thinking the situation rationally. After only a few more minutes, she excused herself to the bathroom but expressed that she was grateful to see me and wanted to meet up whenever I came back to town. I promised her I'd call (which was truthful, despite the rage that filled me then) and then made a beeline for the bastard one last time.

"You know, only ten minutes ago I was rushing to find you because I thought I may have wanted to rethink why I was still hiding, why I'm with Larkin, and what the hell you meant earlier, on the balcony," I started, continuing even as he pulled me away into the shadows so I wouldn't cause a scene. "But then I ran into Jane Rowlins."

He visibly paled, the steel melting away from his gaze instantly. "You did?"

I chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, I fucking did. You know what she enlightened me on?"

"I can explain, Andi--"

"You named the child that you had with Jourdan Rowlins the same name that, as childish as this is going to sound, we picked all those years ago. You then proceeded to hide this information from me, despite trying to woo me out of the graces of my boyfriend, all the while making me look like an idiot in front of our friends because they all know, but I don't. I don't think you have much explaining to do, Baker."

"I didn't tell you because she's gone, Andi. She ditched me the first opportunity she saw and hasn't come back, not even to see the son she manipulated me into having with her. Don't get me wrong, I love my son with every fiber of my being, but he was not planned. Not by any means. I didn't do this to hurt you, Andi, that's the last thing I'd want to do."

"Well, you failed, Zack. For a moment I let you cloud my vision, but I know where my loyalties lie now for sure, and they sure as hell aren't with you. I'll see you around."

"Andi, wait--" he protested, grabbing my arm as I turned. "I meant what I said on the balcony."

"And I meant what I said just now. Let me go, Zack, please," I pleaded, the tears I'd been desperately trying to hide on the cusp of reveal once again.

He loosened his grip with a defeated look, a sigh escaping his lips as I turned from him for the last time.