Intaglio: Dragons All The Way Down (26 page)

His gaze dropped
to their joined hands, white against the solid black of the water-soaked mast. 
Ava’s wedding ring glinted, a single bright star in the darkness.  It was the
one he’d placed on her finger only weeks earlier, the day before they’d left on
the journey.  He took a breath to shout again, just as another wave rose up
like a mountain above them.  He could hear the sound of wood breaking, echoing
like musket shot. 

“Dear God,
preserve us both,” he gasped in horror.

There was
something dark rising on the cresting wave, a winged figure looming above the
two of them…

Cole jerked
awake to the sound of someone coming up the wooden stairs.  He was completely
disoriented, not sure where he was or how he’d gotten here.  There was a
colour-flecked sheet over him that reminded him of Ava.  He blinked against the
light, twisting sideways and groaning.  Running a hand over his face, Cole
noticed that the skin on his fingers was stiff with dried paint.  He squinted,
turning his hands one way and then the other.

‘She was wearing
my ring…’
his mind whispered as if from a dream, but he had no idea what that meant. 

Pushing himself
up on his elbows, he peered back over his shoulder.  He froze at the sight that
greeted him.  There was a painting on the wall – his painting.   Death in the
water. 

With a rush, the
rest of the night returned.

The footsteps on
the stairs were getting louder.  Cole sat up as memories of yesterday’s plane
ride and their trip ran through his mind.  Martinique seemed more than a day
away... almost like a different lifetime.  Seconds later, Ava walked through
the doorway balancing two cups of coffee in one hand, a paper bag in the
other.  He jumped up to help as she came in.

“Good to see
you’re awake,” Ava said with a grin, leaning in to kiss him lightly on the
mouth. “If you’re looking for it, the washroom’s downstairs on the main floor. 
Second door on your right.  You have to jiggle the handle on the toilet
sometimes.”

Cole nodded and
jogged down the stairs, returning minutes later. Ava had laid out breakfast on
a clean section of drop cloth on the floor and she sat cross-legged beside it. 
Cole dropped down next to her, reaching out to touch her cheek.

“Thanks...” he
said quietly, “for last night.”

She smiled as
Cole settled in beside her.  Somewhere Ava had found warm muffins.  His stomach
rumbled in anticipation.  She leaned toward him, offering him a cup of coffee. 

“Your painting
is amazing,” she said quietly.  “Painful, but still beautiful.”

“No,” Cole
muttered, “it’s not.”

“It reminds me
of Gericault’s
Raft of the Medusa
... all the people from the shipwreck
waiting for rescue.”  She smiled again.  “I’m sorry I didn’t have a stretched
canvas for you.  You might have a career as a 2D painter after all.”

“Thanks, I
think.”

His voice was wary;
Ava sighed at the sound.

“It’s a
compliment, Cole.  Take it...” she frowned.  “And stop feeling so
self-conscious about this.”

He gave her an
embarrassed smile, ducking his head and taking a sip of his coffee.

“I do this all
the time,” Ava explained, gesturing at his work.  “I
get
this...”

Cole stared down
at the coffee before his eyes sought hers.

“Thank you.” 

The words didn’t
feel like enough, but he didn’t know how to keep going.  He lifted the muffin
and began to eat. 

“So, what do you
feel like doing today?” Ava asked after a bit. “It isn’t quite two and we’ve
got the rest of Saturday waiting for us.  You want to go for a ride?  It’s
already pretty warm out there.”

Cole’s face grew
distant.

“I’m going to
drive out to my dad’s place today,” he said coldly.  “I want to hear the rest
of Nina’s story.”

The muffin
dropped from Ava's fingers.

“So what,” she
asked, voice frustrated.  “You’re just gonna burst in, guns blazing, and call
him out?”

Cole laughed
mirthlessly.

“Uh... yeah. 
Something like that.”

She blew out an
angry breath.

“God, Cole,
that’s just gonna cause a huge fight, you know?  It won’t solve a goddamn
thing!”

He scowled,
turning his attention back to his food, dropping bits and pieces of the muffin
onto the cloth.  Ava waited for him to answer.  When he stayed silent, she
touched his knee.

“Hey,” she said
quietly, “look at me.”  He eyed her warily.  “What do you want out of all of
this?” she asked.

Cole turned to
stare at the painting on the wall.  The feelings it invoked – being out of
control and not knowing how to get back to solid ground – were exactly how he
felt.

“Cole…?”

“I want the
truth,” he said tiredly.

 “You sure about
that?  Or do you really just want to hurt him... ‘cause there’s a difference.”

His jaw clenched
until his teeth throbbed.  (Cole hated that she knew him like this.)  Ava
pulled her fingers from his knee and rubbed her thumb over the back of his
knuckles in silent comfort.  Outside the window, a car’s tires hissed through
the puddles, silence following it. 

“You have a
right to know what happened, Cole,” Ava said.  “You do.  But you need to decide
if you’re ready.”  Cole lifted his eyes, weighing her words against the pain
inside him.

“Think about
it,” she continued. “If you go out there today, there won’t be any coming back
from it.  Some things you just can’t undo…”

Cole pressed her
hand against his cheek.

“So what do I
do, then?”

“Call Marta. 
Get her opinion on it.”

: : : : : : : :
: :

Marta Langden
set the phone down into its cradle, eyeing the scribbled notations on the
yellow pad. 

Nina gave note
to Ava... admitted something more than affair... Cole wanted to know... Frank
not talking to him... Angela’s depression part of it... Ava thinks Nina has
ulterior motives. CHECK OLD SESSION NOTES!

Marta tore the
sheet off, placing it next to her keyboard to be typed out. When Frank Thomas
had called her last week, panicked and wanting to restart his private meetings,
she knew that things were starting to spiral out of control.  His behaviour in
the four sessions since had added to that conviction.  The phone call from his
son had confirmed it beyond question. 

Everything was
going to come out.

Marta leaned
back in her chair, tapping her toe as she mentally shuffled through the years
since she’d counselled both Frank and Nina Thomas.  She could recall the
challenges of those times, the subtle and not-so-subtle manipulations between
the couple.  She clicked open the laptop's folder of clients, opening their
file.  Marta frowned as she read.  There was no more room for secrets now.

Her fingers
drummed once more and then stopped.  Decision made, she picked up the handset,
dialling the Thomases' number.  The phone rang twice and then connected with a
crackle.

“Hello?”  It was
Nina Thomas, her cultured voice recognizable after all these years.

“Hello Nina. 
It’s Dr. Langden calling... how are you?”

“Fine, Marta,
just fine... and you?”

“Oh good, just
busy.”

Nina chuckled.

“Well, Frank’s
certainly taking up all your spare time.  It’s hard having him away so often. 
I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we’ve started in early on the yard.  Trying a
bit of xeriscaping near the driveway.”

“Xeriscaping?”

Nina continued
on happily, describing the plants and minimal watering.  Marta waited, making
small noises of agreement, her eyes on the clock.  At the one minute mark she
interrupted.

“Ah… I’m sure
with your green thumb, it’ll be lovely,” Marta said, then abruptly changed
tack.  “Nina, I’m actually calling you today for another reason.”

There was a
short pause, and the voice on the phone returned. 

“Ava found the
note, didn’t she?”   Her voice was sharper, less pleasant.  Nina on guard.

Marta sighed. 
If there was anything she knew about Nina Thomas, it was that the woman never
did anything by accident.

“Yes, she did.”

 “I thought Cole
should know about that,” she said brusquely, “and I wasn’t sure Frank would
ever willingly share it.”

Dr. Langden’s
toe had begun tapping under her desk again.  She waited.  (Nina might do things
for her own reasons, but she almost always blurted them out if given time.)

“So do you want
me to had Frank call you back?”  Nina asked.

 “Well, that’s
the thing...” Marta said, forcing her voice to stay neutral, “Cole told me he
wants to meet with you both of you now.”  The tempo of her tapping increased as
she spoke, irritation rising.

“Oh!” Nina
squeaked.  “I didn’t... I thought that…”  Her voice had lost something, grown
breathier.  “Well, I’m really busy with the landscaper this week.  And we’re
having the soil brought in Saturday.  I mean I can’t just drop everything…”

Her words
trailed off. 

“I can
sympathize with your scheduling issues, Nina,” Marta replied, “but seeing as
you were the one who brought this up, it’s only fair that you be part of the
discussion.”

There was a long
pause. Dr. Langden was just about to ask Nina if she was still there when she
finally answered.

“Alright then,”
she snapped.  “I’ll come too.”

: : : : : : : :
: :

It had been a
long two weeks since the return from Martinique.  Busy with exams and
culminating projects, Cole and Ava hadn’t visited the Thomases.  University was
winding down and both of them were overwhelmed as the countdown to graduation
began.

The last of the
intaglio multi-prints had been printed.  The remaining images were blacked away
from the zinc plates under the dark grain of the mezzotint rocker.  Ava’s final
image was created of light and shadow, like ripples seen underwater, the image
revealed through the use of oil and burin.  Cole’s was as different from hers
as it was similar.  It was a landscape.  The cliff with the rocks below; the
silhouette of a single person walking the shore.  Ava had never asked Cole who
the person was… whether the tiny figure was Cole or her.

Somehow it
seemed better if she didn’t know.

Family life for
the Thomases was tenuous at best.  Cole had had two stilted phone conversations
with Frank and Nina, though the details of the note and what it entailed for
all of them had never been discussed.  Everyone was cautious of unsettling the
precarious balance.  There was a flurry of preparatory emails with Marta
Langden and half a notebook full of writing for Cole, all of it an attempt to
mitigate the explosiveness of the eventual meeting.  No one knew exactly what
secrets would be revealed when the tide receded.

As the weekend
neared, Ava felt completely unsettled.  Conflict was coming like dark clouds on
the horizon hinting at a coming storm. She struggled with her wariness by
calling her father's hotel room at random hours.  He never complained. 
Instead, they chatted about empty things, small moments from school, and old
memories until Ava finally admitted to her real fears.  Oliver calmed her
nerves, assuring her things would work out, no matter how the discussion went.

“It’s all
choices, Ava... just do the right thing, and don’t worry.  Nothing’s set.” 

She smiled into
the receiver.

“That’s the part
that worries me, though.”

Her father made
a coughing sound.  (Ava knew he was trying to hide his laughter.)  The low
rumble of his voice returned seconds later.

“But Kiddo,
what’d be the point, if there wasn’t a choice...?  Where’s the fun in that?”

Ava snorted.

“It’d be nice to
just know, Dad.  To just have this idea of ‘do this’ and everything works
out... to just have that guarantee.... not knowing scares me.”

Her father
paused, and the low buzz of the trans-Atlantic connection filled her ear.

“You say that
now,” he said gruffly.  “But if you had no choice, if that was taken away from
you, you’d probably feel differently.”

His voice
sounded hollow and sad.  Ava sighed, wishing again that he wasn’t on tour.

“Yeah, Ollie...
you’re probably right... but I hate feeling like I’m gonna screw this all up.”

Her father
chuckled.

“Then trust me
on this.  I saw the end of your cup, Ava.” He paused, and the hair crawled over
her scalp.  “It was dragons all the way down.”

She grinned.

“Maybe when you
come back you could—”

“Read your
teacup?”

Ava laughed,
closing her eyes and imagining him sitting next to her on the couch, cigarette
in hand.