by Melanie Ting
“Pleeeease Hannah-banana,” said Tris.
“Okay. But if Mom asks, we had Kraft Dinner. It was tough enough to get her to go out without leaving meals for both of us.” That made more sense to me. It wasn’t the pizza she was against as much as giving up the responsibility. Hannah liked being in charge. She’d make a great CEO someday.
Tristan began to rustle through drawers searching for pizza menus. I stood up and looked at the notes and drawings tacked to the fridge. Between the pencil crayon masterpieces was a postcard of a painted landscape.
Jacqueline Wagner. Inside and Outside.
“What’s this?” I asked. I took the magnet off and turned the card over to read dates and the location.
“That’s Mom’s art show,” Tris explained. “It’s coming up soon, and she’s freaking out.”
“An art show. That’s pretty impressive.”
“I found the menus. What do you like best, Leo—thin crust or thick?” Tris asked, looking up with a big smile. His dark eyes were exactly like his mother’s.
“What’s your favourite, bud?”
I could feel warmth spreading inside me. It was like one of Charlotte’s books, where a little girl breaks the evil spell and everyone in the castle comes back to life. In the book, the illustrations changed from black and white to full colour. Or so she told me. For me, they turned to blues, browns, and yellows. But being back here, in the midst of Jackie’s comfortable home with her great kids was making me happy. The only thing missing was Jackie herself.
36
Soul Woman
Jackie
“Are you all ready for the show yet?” Sharon asked. She had come over to pick up Kayla and noticed the general chaos and lack of dinner preparation. So she dialled up some Chinese take out, and thus gave me more precious time to work on my paintings. Now that we lived so close, we were in and out of each other’s places constantly, just like when we were next-door neighbours.
“I’m wiring all the paintings. Everything is done—well, there’s one painting that I’d love to work on a bit longer, but the time is up. I have to wrap everything up and take it tomorrow. Ugh.”
Sharon pulled out a landscape and admired it. “Your new paintings are so good. What inspired you to stop painting flowers?”
“I felt sad about moving, so I decided to paint all the things I was going to miss. The house. My regular running trails. I did sketches and photographs, and then used a combination of references and imagination.”
The end result was eight new paintings. Four were scenes from my old house, like a sunny corner of the living room with Minx snoozing on a brightly upholstered armchair. The outdoor ones showed the Arbutus trees and rocky crags looming over a woodsy trail or the ocean lapping up against a pebbled beach.
Sharon was admiring the most colourful one, which showed the chaos of the family room with one of Tristan’s Lego masterpieces in the centre. “I really like this one. How much are you charging for it?”
“Sharon! After everything you’ve done for me, I would never charge you for a painting. If you like it, you can have it.”
Not only had Sharon arranged the show in the first place, she helped me turn a dark basement room into a bright and cheery studio space by installing new lighting and shelving. I now had my own dedicated studio. Being able to leave my art supplies out had made me much more productive. If I had a spare half hour, I could come down here and paint.
“Well, I’m not going to take it before the show. You could sell it and make money.” She found the price list on a table. “You’re practically giving them away anyway. You need to raise your prices.”
“Are you kidding? It’s my first ever show. If I sell even one painting, I’m going to explode with happiness.” Of course, I’d “sold” paintings to Wayne’s leasing company, but that wasn’t the same as someone walking in and choosing a painting.
“I’m so looking forward to the opening tomorrow. Who’s coming?”
“I have no idea. I invited tons of people, but there’s no RSVP or anything, so unless I ran into people, I don’t know if they’re coming. You. The kids. Oh, and Brent is coming with Margaret.” Which only made me more nervous. What if I flopped miserably in front of my ex and his successful girlfriend?
“Did you invite Wu-wu-wendy and Wu-wu-wayne?”
I sighed. “Yeah. But they can’t come. Wyatt has soccer practice.” That wasn’t a real excuse, since obviously Wayne could do practice while she came. Surprisingly, I didn’t miss many of my friends from back in West Van. We had been friends because our kids were friends and we shared the same neighbourhood concerns. But once I moved away, I realized we didn’t have a ton in common. There would be a few people I’d still see, like friends from my art class.
“She was always jealous of you,” Sharon commented.
“What? Why would she be jealous of me?” Wendy had more money, a nicer home, a smarter kid, and a husband, and those were her priorities.
“You were cooler and more fun than her. You had a more stylish home despite her expensive designer. When Brent left, she saw her chance to feel sorry for you and to feel superior. Then you began to work and date someone younger and sexy. That pretty much blew her mind.”
I stared at Sharon. Was this for real, or did she still resent the way Wendy made over her house?
She shrugged. “Think about it and you’ll see it makes sense.”
That idea actually explained a lot. Why Wendy was so against me working with Wayne. The flirty way she had acted when she met Leo. And the worst part, why Wyatt abruptly cancelled on our holiday. It felt like Tristan’s moving away from West Van made him not good enough anymore.
“You are scary smart,” I told her.
“Unfortunately, I am a better judge of the lousy side of human nature. You were lucky enough to come through a divorce with undamaged optimism.”
“I guess.” There was still a creeping darkness on the edges of my days and especially my nights. I had been occupied with the move, the new house, getting the kids settled in their new school, and then the art show. Now that it was all done, I would have too much time to spend in my head.
“So, how early are you going? Is Sid picking you up?”
“Oh, did I forget to tell you? I broke up with him a couple of weeks ago.”
She frowned at me. “That didn’t last long.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t working out.”
At first, dating Sid was the perfect way to move on. He was smart, considerate, and funny. He brought me flowers on our first date and planned every outing with care. But the more I got to know him, the worse he got. He was too possessive and needy. And he tried to act like a father to my kids, which they hated.
The final straw was the night that Leo showed up at the game. Sid had insisted on leaving right away to go to some fancy bar where I was going to be underdressed and bored. As I was leaving, I turned around and saw Leo in profile—leaning against the wall, his hands jammed in his black coach’s jacket, and I felt this pang that was almost audible. I wanted to stay with Leo at the rink. But since that was impossible, my second choice was to go home with Tristan and hear his excitement as he relived the game and his goal. I’d ended things with Sid that night. My immediate relief was proof it was the right thing.
But men weren’t important at a time like this. My first art show was the real accomplishment.
I drove the paintings over first thing the next morning. Darlene was the woman curating the space, and she helped me hang the show.
“Thanks so much for all your help,” I told her. It was such a thrill to see all my work properly hung on white walls.
“No problem. At least you only have eight big paintings. One show the woman did a hundred tiny paintings, which took hours to arrange. I still have nightmares of that installation.” She pulled a ladder out of a closet. “Next we have to readjust the lighting.”
“Oh, I thought we were done,” I said.
Darlene laughed. “Nope. We
still have to do the lighting, the labels, and set up the table for the opening. “
There was a lot more to hanging a show than I expected. We worked steadily for another hour and a half until Darlene declared everything looked good. I took in the whole gallery and agreed. There was energy between the colourful paintings that animated the whole room. I felt both accomplished and humbled. The paintings looked bright and cheerful on the surface. Yet each painting reminded me of my struggles: Brent leaving, selling a house I loved, my sleepless nights, and everything that happened with Leo. I began tearing up.
“Jackie, are you okay?” Darlene asked.
“It’s such a huge moment for me. Painting’s been my therapy, and I feel like my whole soul is laid out here.”
She walked over and hugged me. “Then your soul is a very beautiful place.”
37
Colour My World
Jackie
“There’s a man here who wants to buy one of your paintings,” Darlene’s soft voice could barely be heard, and I pulled the phone closer to my ear. I was back at home, showered and getting ready for an opening that was still hours away. But I was too nervous to do anything else.
Wow, my dream was coming true. “Really? That’s fantastic. But why are you whispering?”
“Because he’s in the next room. But he said he’d really like to talk to the artist first. I told him that you’d be here at seven, but he has to go before then. Since you live pretty close, I wondered if you could come over. After all, it’s a sale.”
“Sure. Tell him I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I needed to get dressed up for a potential client and try to look successful. At Sharon’s urging, I had raised my prices a little. If I made this sale, it would basically pay for all the materials I’d used in the show. Of course, that didn’t include all my labour, but selling something meant painting was more than just a hobby.
I put on a pair of black pants and black top with a deep V in the front and back. Maybe it was too sexy for this early in the day, but I was an artist, right? People expected flamboyant. I added a dramatic necklace made up of chunky golden shapes on a twisted satin cord. That looked sufficiently artistic. For my makeup, I did a smoky eye and a neutral lip. The false eyelashes might be overkill, but I wouldn’t have to redo my makeup for the opening.
I speed-walked to the restaurant. It was late afternoon so there were few customers and Darlene wasn’t in sight. I went straight to the back room. There was only one person there.
It was Leo, sitting in a chair and looking at his phone.
He was formally dressed in a dark grey suit, bright white shirt, and pale pink tie. His hair was neatly brushed back, and his angular face looked like a gothic sculpture in the afternoon light.
“Leo. What are you doing here?”
He stood up and smiled. My insides did a little flip-flop. It was magical and unreal that he was here. “I came to see your show.”
“How did you even know I had a show?”
“Hannah and Tris told me. The night I dropped him off.”
“Oh. Well, thank you for coming,” I said. “Even if you are several hours early.”
“Sorry about that. I have a game tonight, so....”
I smiled. “So you didn’t get all dressed up just for my opening? You look—” I didn’t even know how to finish that sentence. Handsome. Hot. Very hot. “—um, good.”
He moved closer. “And you, Jacqueline. You are even more beautiful than usual.”
I seemed to be experiencing my first ever hot flash. If a hot flash began in your nether regions. I took one step back. “Um, did you see anyone else here?”
He shook his head. “Who are you looking for?”
“Oh, Darlene told me there was someone who was interested in getting a painting. I guess I took too long to get here.”
“It’s me. I’m the one who wants to buy one of your paintings.”
“You? But that’s crazy. You’re the one who said you prefer black-and-white photographs. Why would you want a painting?” Especially since the strongest element in my work was colour.
He reached under the chair and picked up a small cardboard box. Then he stood up and walked towards me. “Because I want to live in your world. The kind of world that’s full of fun. And warmth. And colour.”
“But....”
He held up the box, which was taped and sealed. “I ordered these—like you suggested.”
I took the package, which was from some place in the States. I shook it, and the box was very light. Leo told me to open it. Inside were a bunch of booklets and a glasses case. I opened it up and found a pair of tinted sunglasses.
“Oh wow. These are the correcting glasses—for colour blindness! You got them.” They looked so mundane, like ordinary glasses.
He nodded. “Now, I’m going to wear them for the first time and see your show.”
Leo opened up the glasses and put them on. The retro style of them and the fact he was wearing them indoors made him look like a handsome Roy Orbison. He looked around at the paintings.
No gasps of joy. No tears. He squinted.
“Is it working?” I asked.
“Well, that’s green, right?” He pointed to one of my landscapes. “The green looks very intense.”
He turned and noticed my disappointed expression. “I can see more colour. But maybe they work better outside in the sunshine. It’s a little dark in here.”
“I was hoping you’d fall down weeping at the sight of my beautiful artwork,” I joked.
Leo took off the glasses and faced me. His golden-brown eyes searched my face. “You forget, I’m already very familiar with how beautiful your paintings are. I wake up to one every day.”
I was struck wordless. This was the best thing someone had ever said about my art, and I blinked back my stupid tears.
“Jackie, before we go on, can I say how sorry I am? For hurting you. I’ve wanted to apologize for that night when you were so warm and wonderful—but I gave you nothing back.”
I stared at the worn carpet. “It’s okay. You told me that you couldn’t do relationship stuff. It was my own fault.”
“No, it was never your fault. You’re the most generous person I’ve ever known.” He stepped closer and put his hands on my shoulders. The warmth of his hands touched the core of me. Yet I wanted to push him away and cover myself in the shattered pieces of my pride. Leo had hurt me. I couldn’t just take him back like this.
But I couldn’t play games with him either. There was nobody who made me light up inside like Leo. This whole moment was beautiful and overwhelming—to have Leo apologize, here among my paintings. It was like the fantasy I didn’t even know I had.
“Thank you for your apology,” I said. I was full of hopes, but I had no idea where this was all going.
Leo’s smile was careful and polite. “Okay, we’ve gotten that out of the way. There’s one more thing. I realize it’s not my business, so you can tell me to butt out. That guy—Sid—he doesn’t seem like the right person for you. He’s too—”
“It’s okay,” I interrupted. “I broke up with him that night I saw you. It was never that big a deal anyway.”
“So, you’re single then?”
“Yes.” I held my breath. Leo smiled. Really smiled this time, the smile reached his eyes.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking since you left. About my priorities....” He stopped and looked down at me. “Mais, I don’t think this is the right time to discuss this. Tonight is a celebration of your accomplishments.”
That was disappointing, but yes, my opening was something I’d looked forward to for months. “How about after the opening?” I asked.
He nodded. ‘‘How soon after?”
“Thirty seconds?”
We both laughed. He brought his hand up and caressed my cheek. I leaned into his touch and sighed.
“Sounds perfect. I’ll come over right after my game?”
“Okay. But the kids will be there.”
<
br /> “That’s fine. I’d like to see them.”
They’d probably be asleep though. And I needed time to process all this before I explained it to them. My emotions were careening on a crazy rollercoaster.
Leo took my hand in his. His thumb caressed my palm. I had missed his warm affectionate touches so much. “We’ll have to wait a few hours in any case. But meantime, I’d like to hear more about your paintings.”
“Okay. I painted scenes from my life back in West Van, as a good-bye. The forested trails. The rooms in my home that had meaning.” Every painting was like a piece of me.
He pointed to an ocean landscape. “Tell me about this one.”
“This is from my favourite running trails. You run through the forest and then you come to this open place where you can see the ocean. You’re pretty high up. The arbutus trees are so twisted and interesting there.” I smiled. “I like to do short runs. That was my turnaround point. Run there, enjoy the view, and run back.”
“Perhaps you can take me there sometime?”
The hesitancy in his voice made my heart surge. Leo was always so sure of himself, but now he was worried about my response. For once, I had the power.
“Perhaps. We have things to discuss first.”
Next was a painting of a corner of Tristan’s room, with a white wicker rocking chair and black and white cushions.
“This painting reminds me of when Tristan was a baby. He was a terrible sleeper, so I’d get up in the middle of the night and nurse him in that chair. Then I would rock him until he fell asleep. But it took him ages to fall asleep. He was so curious and kept looking around at everything. He had the sweetest little face with long eyelashes and fat cheeks. It was so dark and quiet—like we were the only people awake in the whole world. I was exhausted, yet those times seem like a happy dream now.”
Once he was older, I should have gotten rid of the rocking chair but I could never bring myself to do it. And Tristan hated change anyway. But once we had to move, I ruthlessly sold everything. A tiny pregnant lady bought the chair, and I assured her that it had great karma. So now the painting was my only visual reminder of those dark, loving nights.
