The Artist's Amour (BWWM) ✓

Chapter 22: Running

Aria's POV

"This food is amazing." I nodded, smiling at the woman as we ate. I kept stealing glances at her, and at the rooms around us. The whole situation just seemed so surreal, as if this entire restaurant was plucked up from Japan and placed somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, Maine. Once you walked through those doors, the whole atmosphere shifted, you were no longer on the outskirts of Portland...

...or at least I hope that's where I was. It got confusing from all those left turns.

"So tell me, how do you like Maine?" The woman asked, as she poured me more tea. My body grew rigid, and I felt as if she noticed, when she went to clarify. "You don't look like you're from around here, I mean."

"Oh," I laughed nervously, "I moved out here a couple weeks ago."

"Have you resolved the situation that caused you to move out here in the first place?" She asked, pouring some tea for herself.

My heartbeat began to quicken as I thought about what she was asking.

Did she know who I was?

But how?

Before I could respond, she chose to clear up her question a bit more once again. "Im asking because one doesn't move out to Portland, Maine, unless they are carrying more baggage than just and carry on bag." She explained, finally glancing up at me again as she sipped her tea.

Oh the irony.

I paused for a second, unsure whether to tell her the truth, or keep it to myself. I mean, I kinda was sitting in a restaurant I was sure all of 2 people in this state knew of. One of which being me, and the other being the woman who sat across from me. As I weighed the pros and cons of telling her, I realized their really were no cons to the situation. "I was going to be married." I started, setting down my cup of tea.

"It wasn't what you wanted." She finished.

Everything she said sounded so nonchalant, but I knew there must have been some underlining meanings. I got this feeling that she knew more than she was letting on, but how? That would have been impossible.

"Exactly." I sighed. "So I left him."

"On the alter?" She asked.

I glanced up at her from my food, completely taken back. "Y-Yes, how did you know?" I asked as my eyes grew wide.

"When you walked in, you looked like a deer caught in headlights. This was probably the first time in your life you ran away from anything. Chance has placed you here in Portland, Maine, but what had you find your way to this Chinese restaurant."

"Google maps." I spoke, before I could think about it. She chuckled lightly, setting her chopsticks down. I hadn't even realized it, but we had finished the meal already.

"Tell me about this man that you left."

I wasn't sure how to even begin. It had been a while since I had even thought of Jake since moving here. "He was... Perfect, honestly." I spoke. "He was perfect, but not perfect for me. Everything he did, everything he didn't do, they were never spur of the moment decisions. If I wanted to go to Paris, he had a schedule we would have to follow down to the minute to, and I quote, "get the most out of our trip." I guess I just got sick and tired of living that way. I wanted to be an artist, yet he chose to confine me to a 9-5 desk job."

"How can an Artist create, if she or he cannot experience?" The woman nodded, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt a connection. Nothing romantic, but a true, genuine, connection. As if she understood that while Jake may have never hit me, the relationship was still mental and emotionally abusive.

"Exactly." I whispered, smiling up at her.

"Have you two spoken since you left?" She asked, as she started to pack up our empty dishes.

"No. He has no idea I'm even here. Although, it won't take him long to figure out. I saved money from selling art, and have lived completely off of cash since being here, hoping to buy myself some time. I finally have a job now, teaching kids. Who'd of thought I would enjoy this life here so much." I spoke, a smile gracing my lips again.

"It looks as if a teaching job isn't the only thing you've found here." She teased, raising her eyebrow slightly.

"I may have found someone." I joked, as I took another sip from my cup.

"You love him." She stated, more so than asked.

"I feel as if I'm getting an oracle, or my future read." I joked again. Her smile grew as she finally stood up from the table.

"I hope I haven't pried too deeply into your personal life. I can always tell when there's a story to be told, and you, my love, have so much I'd love to hear." She nodded, picking up some of the plates. Without even asking, I helped her remove the dishes.

"It's okay. Honestly, it's nice just being able to tell someone, you know? I've kept it to myself, due to how personal the situation was. I'm afraid to tell the man I've fallen so helplessly in love with, in fear that he won't accept the fact that my love is genuine. I'm not sure how to make him understand that the relationship I was in, wasn't much of a relationship at all. It was more of an agreement. I don't want him to doubt everything I've done these past couple of days."

"I cannot tell you what to do, my dear. That choice is yours. What I can tell you, though, is that: when you tell a lie, you dig yourself into a hole. With every lie, this hole grows deeper. Soon, you will find yourself in a hole so deep, you cannot pull yourself out.

"The person you are lying to is on leveled ground above you, willing to help you. The further you dig, the more work he may have to do, when you are finally ready to stop digging. How deep of a hole are you willing to risk digging, and how much work is he willing to put forth to pull you out, before his will gives up on him?"

~

As I thanked the woman and left the restaurant with a promise of returning, I couldn't help but think about the analogy the woman had left me with- about the hole.

Maybe it was time I stopped running.