Intaglio Dragons All The Way Down

chapter 10: Polaroids



Ava's last semester of university appeared in a series of flashes. The first were bright and intense: Christmas with Cole’s family, the fight at New Year’s, the teacup reading with her father the night of the Student Show. Others had the muted golden hue of 1960’s prints, poignant and wistful. They were single events that would someday form a nostalgic illustration of the end of an era.

These times reminded her of the photographs now lining one wall of her studio, random moments captured in a blur of light and colour. There were weekends partying with Chim, Suzanne and Cole at The Crown and Sceptre, late weeknights at the university print-making lab, trying to adapt the multi-print zinc plate into ten variations, sharp memories of biting her lip to stay quiet in Cole’s thin-walled dorm while he moved on top of her. Individual moments marked the passage of time.

Some of the snapshots on the wall had been developed at the local film shop, though two strips were from the two dollar insta-booth in the mall – one with her and Cole, and another with all four of them, squished together in the booth, Chim’s Marley cap down across his forehead. Lately a growing number of these pictures were the oddly-shaped self-developing ones; names and dates scribbled in the band at the bottom. Wednesday at the Crown. Suze and Chim. Hiking in the river bottom. Sunday in the diner...

Chim had located the old Polaroid camera at the downtown thrift shop and they’d all pitched in for film. These quick snapshots had become an impromptu art project; there was a growing collage, supplemented by drawings on napkins and doodles on receipts. Each snippet decorated the space that had become, over the last months, the agreed-upon meeting place for the four of them. Ava couldn’t help but feel like she was recording this all for later.

Each week moved her toward graduation and all of its challenges. There were decisions to be made about the future. Chim already volunteered for Amnesty International; his supervisor had offered to extend his role into a paying position starting the following summer. Now the rest of them were beginning to realize that these last few months were, in many ways, their last ‘free’ time together. Jobs and mortgages and life would soon take over. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Suzanne was the one who’d come up with an answer.

She had several friends who were planning to spend their Spring Break volunteering at an animal sanctuary on Martinique. With their help, Suzanne located an inexpensive chateau to rent down the coast from Trois Îlets. The place she’d found was a private residence that fronted a secluded beach. With the change in currency and a split four ways, they would have more than enough money to pay full price for airfare. Cole grinned as Ava insisted that they plan on snorkeling when they were there.

“You’re cheating, you know,” he said, raising his eyebrow sceptically. “It isn’t really coming true if you force it to happen.”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“Cole, you don’t even believe in teacup reading,” she replied, dryly. “Not sure why you care how it works.”

Dubious or not, the two of them had been changed by Oliver’s words. The story of their dreams, and the sudden awareness of the connection between them, was yet another piece that simply “fit.” Ava found herself thinking about it on occasion, bits of dreams – a wooden bird, the two of them holding hands in the rain – coming at random moments. These past echoes gave her comfort, but they weren’t the only part of her cup she intended to see to fruition.

Tonight in the Crown, it was the future rising up across the side of the cup she was focused on. Across from them in the booth, Suzanne pulled out a pamphlet from amongst the rest of her travel guides.

“If we do decide to go snorkeling, I’d like to go to the Trois Îlets Wildlife Sanctuary,” she said, tapping the paper in front of them. “They’re repopulating the Hawksbill Turtle population there.”

Ava glanced at Cole and this time she was the one smirking.

“Fine, you win,” he said, throwing up his hands in defeat. “Maybe your dad did see something.”

Ava turned to him, her voice dropping.

“Maybe…?” she scoffed.

Under the table, one of Cole’s hands slid up her leg. Her knee jerked in surprise, bouncing the glasses, and Chim gave them a knowing grin.

“He’s right more often than not,” Ava said, voice squeaking, “but you’ve always got a choice about what you decide to do. Nothing’s fated. You can change anything, you know?”

Cole grinned, fingers moving higher. She closed her eyes as his hand began tracing over her inner thigh. Across from them, Marcus rolled his eyes, turning back to Suzanne; in seconds, they were lost in their own conversation.

“But how can he see it, if you’ve got a choice?” Cole teased. “Doesn’t make sense.”

She thought of her wish – the two of them together – and in that moment his hand slid in the rest of the way, leaving her gasping.

“I don’t care how it works,” she gasped, squirming under Cole’s roving hand. “I just know it does.”

: : : : : : : : : :

It was a Friday night in early February, and Cole and Ava were staying in Frank and Nina's guest suite. The Spring weather was blustery, and with the pressure change, Nina had developed a migraine. After dinner, she and Frank had retired to bed, leaving Ava and Cole to fend for themselves.

Coastal suburbia was dead for a Friday. After a late supper at the downtown pizzeria, the two of them came back for the night. They tiptoed up the stairs, laughing like teenagers before climbing into bed, listening to gusts of wind around the eaves. Ava lay on her stomach on the bed, bare feet propped on her pillow, flipping through television channels. Behind her, Cole lay propped up against the headboard, a black notebook in hand.

“What’cha doing?” Ava asked, twisting to look over her shoulder at him. He’d been scribbling steadily for the last twenty-five minutes, pages turning one after the other. Cole glanced up, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“Well, if you’d strip down, I’d offer to sketch you... but since you’re wearing too many clothes, I’m doing some work instead.”

The scratching of the pen returned. Ava flipped through a few more channels, her curiosity growing. The figure drawing suggestion had some merit, she had to admit. It was nice having her dad back in town but his presence had put a damper on Cole’s visits. The dorm was no better. His next door neighbour had given her lascivious looks the two times he’d run into her leaving. Ava was definitely too loud for Cole’s bedroom.

She rolled sideways, propping herself up on an elbow to watch him.

“What kind of work are you doing?” she asked, nudging his ribs with her toe. He smirked, catching her foot.

“Writing,” he admitted, rubbing his thumb along her instep and making her giggle. She squirmed until he let go, turning onto her back, her hands now behind her head. The minute his pen dropped back to the page, her toes prodded him. He kept his eyes on the sketchpad, ignoring her.

“Okay,” she said with a grin, “I’ll play. What kind of writing, Cole?”

Her toes wiggled against his armpit, moving lower until they hit a particularly sensitive spot and he jumped, snickering. The book dropped and she could see the lines of text filling the white pages.

“Writing for Marta,” Cole admitted, reaching out and pulling her up the bed, so that her hips were now next to his. The fingers of his free hand dropped down to her waist, finding the seam between her top and yoga pants, working underneath. He propped his book against his knees, writing once more.

“Marta, huh?” Ava said, eyes narrowing. “Should I be jealous?”

Cole snorted, fingers of one hand tugging at her waistband while he continued to write. The pauses between scribbles were growing longer.

“Depends...” Cole said, grey eyes taunting her, “what would you do if you were jealous? Hmmm....?”

Ava began to squirm as he got hold of the top of her pants, pulling on one side roughly, exposing her panties, then sliding over to the other hip and doing the same thing.

“I dunno,” Ava admitted, a line of irritation between her brows. “What does she look like?”

Cole glanced away as if remembering. Meanwhile, the fingers of his free hand slid her pants lower until they were puddled next to him. His other hand was still poised on the paper, but no longer writing.

“She has long dark hair,” he said. “Really nice hair, actually. And brown eyes.” He smirked. “Very pretty.”

Ava scowled as Cole slid his hand up her calves, inching toward her thighs. She crossed her arms, holding in the urge to sigh.

“Hmmph,” she grumbled. “Do I know her?”

Cole chuckled as his fingers reached the silken edge of her panties and began teasing back and forth, sliding along the seam toward her crotch.

“I don’t think so...” He tapped his pen on the book, watching her, his voice a low purr. “Jealous, are you, Ava?”

He worked her panties off with one hand and they joined her pants at her ankles. She kicked them violently away, abruptly annoyed. Cole stopped touching her altogether, going back to writing, his face distracted.

A full minute passed, filled only by the scratching of his pen.

“I’m not jealous,” Ava said petulantly.

At her words, Cole stopped writing. He straightened the book against his knees, his face full of mischievous good-humour.

“Cole?”

He glanced up again; this time he winked.

“Hmmm?”

Ava twisted so she could sit up, putting them face to face.

“Seriously now,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as anxious as she felt. “Who’s Marta?”

She realized that at some point her hands had rolled into fists. That part of her reaction concerned her.

Cole’s face lost the smirk and became softer. He dropped the book onto her lap and set the pen on the table. Ava waited, chewing the inside of her lip as her heart pounded. This conversation left her feeling more naked than all of the moments she'd been undressed in front of Cole in the last months combined.

“Marta Langden is the therapist that Dad and I are seeing,” Cole said gently; his fingers dropped to her waist, stroking lightly down the naked curve of her hip. His fingers were persuasive, laying a path of feather-light touches on her skin.

“Oh.”

Ava knew they were seeing a counsellor. She also knew that Cole was going for an hour before each session, too. She frowned for a moment, trying to remember if the therapist had ever been mentioned by her first name. Ava didn’t think so.

All the while, Cole’s hand moved lower, dropping overtop her curls, teasing lightly. She shivered. He leaned forward so that his face was close to hers. (He could have kissed her, but he hadn’t yet.) Both hands slid under her top, fingers moving against her skin.

“You can look at what I wrote, you know,” he said quietly.

He leaned in to drop his lips against her mouth. His thumbs reached the underside of her breasts, fondling her through the lace of her bra.

“What are…?” Ava gasped, her eyes closed against the tender caresses, “What are you writing?”

Cole’s hands moved higher. He found the edge of the bra and pulled it down so that his roughened fingertips could reach her nipples. She shivered, the pink peaks hardening.

“It’s homework,” Cole admitted, his face a hands-breadth away from hers. “Things I remember from when I was a kid…” his tongue flicked out to the shell of her ear, “things about my family and my emotions. Stuff like that.”

“Oh...” Ava said weakly. “Well, that’s good then.”

His teeth grazed her ear lobe, nibbling gently, and she shuddered, but Cole wasn’t done.

“Yes, it is good...” he murmured, tasting the hollow under her ear.

Cole’s mouth was nipping and licking her neck. Ava couldn’t think any further. His hands had grown impatient in their wanderings,. With a groan, Cole pulled his mouth away from her, hands dropping from her breasts to her waist. He pulled her to straddle his lap where he sat against the headboard of the bed. Her lashes fluttered open. He was watching her, face grave.

“I was teasing, you know,” he said. “There’s no reason to be jealous, Ava. I wouldn’t do that to you… Ever.”

She smiled at his words, the way he hadn’t made light of her feelings.

“Thanks,” she said, cheeks warming under his unwavering gaze.

He pulled her closer, grinding her down against his hips. The look in his eyes was shifting again, seriousness and intensity drawn into something needier.

“The writing’s a good thing,” he added, voice husky with desire. His hands eased the tank top over her head. “It’s not fun, exactly, but good to do.”

Ava nodded, twisting her arm backward to undo her bra. Cole pulled it slowly down her shoulders, his eyes half-lidded as he talked.

“Although Dad and I aren’t really talking to each other yet...”

The curves of her breasts were exposed and she shrugged the bra off. Cole’s mouth moved in hungrily to capture one of her nipples in his mouth, Ava’s hands tightening in his hair. He paused, lifting his face to look at her, fingers taking the place of his mouth.

“It’s still progress...” Cole said, “even if we’re just answering questions in the same room.”

Ava made a soft mewling sound and he laughed quietly.

“But it’s still a start...” she panted.

Then Cole leaned toward her, his mouth slanting hard against her lips, the book of stories forgotten on the bed.