My ears deceive me. My eyes betray me. My lips stay sealed as I spill the sweet nectar for my serenity.
Yellman's words played over and over in Isabeth's mind as she stood under the tent erected in the parking lot of Royal Academy's Upper School. Those words kept her up all night. They reminded her of something someone told her long ago. Someone she met in the asylum.
"The Blackbird Tournament." A stealthy man with a backward baseball cap spoke. "Isn't that an awkward name for a charity function by a cosmetic company?"
"Blackbird is Kieran Cosmetic most popular shade of lipstick." Gidget spewed as she checked the man's paperwork. "It's what put the homegrown, black-owned business on the map...gaining it international status." She stamped the man's paperwork, slipped t back in the manila folder and handed it to him with a smile. "Take these to George and he will give you your badges."
Isabeth pulled herself out of her own troubled thoughts to look over at Gidget, "I didn't know you knew so much of Kieran." Isabeth gestured for the next person in the winding line to step up.
"I didn't." Gidget flicked through the pages. "I just did my research."
"After Fiona gave you her spot."
"Yes." Gidget took a beat to look at Isabeth but she was just combing through documents. "Why is that so hard to believe?"
"Take these to George," Isabeth told the woman. "It's not hard to believe. I'm just trying to understand Fiona's mindset."
Gidget waved for the man next in line to step up, "When I bumped into her I didn't know what she was doing..." She stopped at the man approached the table. "Welcome to Evening and The Blackbird Tournament." She greeted with a smile as the man handed her a binder. "Are these physicals current?"
"Yes." The man answered looking at the pages she scanned through. "My players get physicals every year."
Gidget nodded then stamped the last page. "Take these to Marco. He'll issue you credentials."
The man took the papers and left with a smile.
Gidget didn't call for another person but waited for Isabeth to finish reading over the young lady's parental consent forms. Once Isabeth stamped the documents and sent the lady on her way Gidget opened her mouth. "I kind...of knew."
Isabeth cocked her head toward Gidget. "Knew what?"
"That she was in danger."
Isabeth shook her head, "What do you mean?"
"The day she encouraged me to take her internship wasn't the only time I saw her." Gidget ignored the groans of the coaches waiting in line. "She came by my dorm later that night.... to talk."
"Talk about what?"
"About nothing really." She shrugged lazily. "Mostly reminiscing about Dawson. Dances, parties, trips, and some guy."
"Some guy?" Isabeth swallowed the lump swelling in her throat.
"I can't keep working with you if I don't tell you this." Gidget rubbed her eyes roughly unable to see Isabeth move closer to her. "The last time I saw Fiona.... she gave me something." She reached behind her and pulled forth her purse. "I've been carrying this around for a while. Trying to find the right time to give it to you.... but I guess..." Her words died as she pulled out an envelope. "I didn't read it but...." She handed Isabeth the letter. "I'm sorry."
"For what." Isabeth slowly reached for the letter.
"I should've called someone." Gidget rubbed a tear that rolled down her cheek. "I just thought she was being dramatic."
Isabeth grabbed her purse off the chair. "I need a break." She informed before walking off.
Isabeth didn't know she was running until she reached her car out of breath. In complete silence with the doors looked in the car littered parking lot, she carefully opened the letter. Typed in times new roman in twelve-point font she read her friend's last words:
Dear Isabeth,
They say you don't miss it until it's gone. Well, I had it. Freedom. I tasted it...sweet upon my lips. It was glorious but then I met him. I thought he was the one. The one I'd grow old with. The one I'd have kids with, watch our grandkids play in the backyard with. But he wasn't what he appeared to be. He wasn't loving, kind, and genuine. He was a monster dressed up as a charming man. He fooled me and ....I didn't figure out until it was too late. I wish I were stronger. But I'm not. I wish I could keep fighting but I can't. I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of not feeling safe. He's always watching. He's always around. So, I'll let him find me. I'll let him take me and hopefully, I would be enough. I accept my fate. I am his muse and he is The Artist.
Also, tell Faith I forgive her.
Isabeth didn't want to believe it but through her tear-blurred eyes, she saw the signature scribbled at the bottom.
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