Rose of Silk

Chapter 9

It's been a week since Maxwell let me stay with him after the assault with Sergio. He was charged with rape along with other charges that I nor BumbleBeeBurger Shack were aware of and sentenced fifteen years in prison. Maxwell hasn't kept me out his site since I moved in. He's been very productive of me lately, and I don't mind the extra attention. We've seemed to get to know each other better, but I don't really know him. The real him; not the rich successful businessman Maxwell Theodore Roseman. I mean what lies underneath all that man, that muscle... him. I wanted to know about him and where he grew up. We've been seeing each other for five months and still, there's a lot he's not telling me. I needed to know.

I remember it was Saturday. He had just come in from his meeting during the afternoon. I was painting in the living room of this picture he hand hung up that showed a lot of potentials. He had come behind me and kissed my cheek as he admired my work. I felt a little down knowing Camille was still in the hospital and I missed her. I wanted to tell her what I've been up to these past months and let her know Maxwell saved my life that night. I haven't heard much from Oliver since that night he stormed in drunk at my apartment. I hope he's alright. I called him the other day, and it went straight to voicemail. Maxwell sat on the couch after switching out of his business clothes into something more relaxing, and as he watched me watch the painting I asked him where he was from.

He didn't say much for all he did was stare at me. I think he felt ashamed of telling me because he didn't want me to feel bad about where he grew up, but I wanted to know. I begged and pleaded, but all he did was avoid the question. This man's a mystery; I feel like he's hiding something from me that he feels he has to keep to himself. I don't know what changed him once I moved in, but sometimes I feel like I made a mistake saying yes to him. I know he's a businessman since he's always on his phone and all but lately, he's been ignoring me and when he wants something he'll give me attention; but that's only when it's convenient for him.

Shattered glass, paper thin airplanes, loud noises that cloud my mind, and maybe my judgment. I laid in bed thinking how could this have happened. Is this what it's like when we're apart, and when together he's sweet, loving, and his charm. What has become of me?  This was the number one question I seem to want to know the answer to. I remember one night I couldn't sleep. I was in Maxwell's arms as I quietly got up and tiptoed out of bed and into the living room. Pork-chop had finally gotten used to me and ignored me as he slept in his cage. I poured me a glass my water as I looked at my painting that was half finished: it was of a woman's face, but only half of it and a dark black background symbolizing how traps she feels with shattered glass for her eye, and paper thin airplanes representing her skin. I called it: Music Box. 

I called it that because if you look down instead of focusing on her face, and skin you wouldn't be able to see her holding the music box in her hand. The painting was sad because I felt like that woman holding the music box. I feel trapped, alone, and scared to do something that if it goes wrong I fall into the sunken place hence the black background. I needed something to distract me. Not even the half finished the painting of the Music Box would help with everything on my mind. I missed Camille. I missed my family, my little baby brothers, and I hate to admit it; but I miss my mother most of all. Maxwell woke up and discovered I wasn't by his side. He got up and the living room light on as he rubbed his eye and yawned. He saw me sitting there on the couch just admiring the painting and walked over to me.

"What's the matter?" he says as he sits next to me.

"Nothing" I said as I rest my head on his shoulder.

I didn't say anything for he already knew what troubled me. We talked until the morning as he got ready for work. I spent most of my time reading and looking through his memories and childhood. I spent about several hours looking through this box labeled Maxwell Memories. I had the box in my hand as he stepped out his room and walked into the living room. He gazed at the box and me as he adjusted his tie. He didn't say anything as I held onto the box as he walked towards me my heart was beating so fast I thought he was going to scare the heart out my chest. He stood in front of me as he looked down. I pouted my lip and made a face as he stepped so close to me, so close our lips almost touched. He stepped so close that he backed me up to the corner of the wall. He put his arms up as my heart began to feel faint. He makes my heart beat out its chest. My eyes glistened under the beam of the light as our eyes shared a gaze.