The Art of Us

by KL Hughes

  “I purchased a plane ticket.”

  Vinny only continues to stare her down. “Yeah, but I’m the only one capable of actually boarding the flight.”

  “I can’t do this.” Alex panted into the phone, unable to calm her pounding heart.

  “You’re already at the gate, Alex.” Vinny’s voice was like a warm hand on Alex’s back. “Just move your feet, one step after another, until you’re on the plane.”

  “I want to.” Alex cleared her throat. Forced down the lump building there. “I—”

  “You’re afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “You are. What have I always told you about fear?”

  “Fear is the best motivator.”

  “That’s right. The more something scares you, the more you know you have to face it, the more you know you have to just suck it up and do it, right?”

  “I still say that’s faulty logic.” Alex scrunched her eyes closed and rubbed her fingers over the space above her heart. Her chest was tight, clenching harder every second she spent inside the godforsaken airport. She glanced up at the large letter and number hanging over her gate. C16. Fucking Gate C. Of course.

  “Alex, you aren’t going to run into her,” Vinny said, and Alex wondered, not for the first time in her life, if her sister could read her mind. “The city is huge. Besides, you don’t even know if she’s still here. It’s been almost a year since you spoke to her, and I’m pretty sure Charlee isn’t psychic. She’s not going to just sense that you’re in the city and suddenly pop out of thin air.”

  Her heart stuttered at the mention of Charlee, at the sound of her name, the way it haunted and haunted her like it would never stop.

  “You don’t even have to leave my apartment if you don’t want to, if you’re that worried about it. Just get on the plane, and we’ll figure it out when you get here.”

  The gate taunted her. Teased her with the city she loved—the place where she’d grown up, the place where she found her family, the place where she found love, the most incredible, consuming love. Her stomach curled and knotted, threatened to revolt. When the voice came over the loudspeaker to announce that her flight was boarding, the taunting only increased. The nausea intensified. The fear only seemed all the more biting.

  “I can’t, Vinny,” Alex whispered into the phone. “It wouldn’t be right, being there and not, not—”

  “Not being with her.”

  Silence devoured the line until Alex finally decided to move. When she turned and walked away from the gate, she didn’t look back. The only thing she could bring herself to say was “I’m sorry.”

  “It was too late.” Alex removes her coat and folds it over the back of her chair. “Or too soon. I don’t know.”

  “I know,” Vinny says, nudging Alex’s foot under the table. “I get it. I was just teasing you.”

  The smile Alex conjures up feels more like a grimace than anything. She imagines it likely looks like one as well.

  “Have you been to any of the old haunts yet? Pappy’s?”

  Alex shakes her head.

  “Damn. I figured you’d be hurting for it, have a hot-sauce-slathered slice between your lips no less than fifteen minutes after getting off the plane.”

  Alex uses her fingers to brush her hair back into a frizzy bun. The farther from her face while she eats, the better. She secures it with an elastic band that will likely snap before the day is out. The damned things never last long with her hair. It’s too thick. “Nice use of alliteration,” she says. “Mrs. Garrison would be so proud.”

  “Ah, Mrs. Garrison.” Vinny grins. “Best teacher I had in high school.”

  “You had a crush on her.”

  Vinny responds by wadding up a piece of napkin, dipping it in her water, and chucking it at Alex’s face.

  She dodges the direct hit, but the spray of cold water still grazes the edge of her ear. Groaning, she wipes at the wetness. “You’re a child, Vinaya.”

  “Nice use of deflection, Alexandra,” Vinny says, rolling her eyes. “Dr. Thompson wouldn’t be proud at all.”

  “Good thing we stopped seeing him when I was fifteen, then.”

  Vinny laughs and bumps her foot under the table again. “We should go sometime.”

  Alex’s brow furrows. “To Dr. Thompson?”

  “To Pappy’s, you idiot.”

  The silence Alex slips into is answer enough, and Vinny doesn’t push it. They let it linger through their meal, only a few words passed between them here and there. A thick sort of silence, but not uncomfortable.

  When they step back out into the cold afternoon air, Alex walks Vinny the few feet to her bike. She stands still and silent, hovering while Vinny dons the heavier leather jacket from her saddle bag, then her scarf and her thick leather gloves. When she’s ready to go, Alex opens her mouth to thank her for the meal, but what comes out instead is entirely unexpected.

  “It’s gone,” she says, the words choked as they slither through and out. Vinny arches a brow.

  “What is?”

  Alex sucks in a cold breath through her nose. She hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to start this conversation at all, but the door is already open, so she doesn’t stop herself from going through.

  “Her gallery.” She shakes her head as if she can’t believe it still matters so much to her. Then again, it never stopped mattering. I don’t think it ever will. “It’s a bakery now.”

  The soft collapse of Vinny’s curious expression tells Alex this isn’t news to her. “Yeah. It’s been a bakery for a couple of years now.”

  “Oh.” She doesn’t ask the questions that instantly bubble up, the questions that scream inside her chest. Vinny likely wouldn’t have any answers for them anyway, so Alex holds them in, holds them down, and lets them drown.

  They stand quietly together for a long time before Vinny throws her leg over her bike and settles onto the seat. “You good?”

  Alex blinks, shakes herself back to the moment, and nods. “Yeah.” She looks over her sister’s face, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, with narrow hazel eyes, a long, slender nose, and slightly chapped and smirking lips. Warmth spreads through her chest. “I’ve missed you, Vinny.”

  Vinny reaches out and clasps Alex’s forearm for just a moment. She then drops her hand back to her lap. “So, I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Alex says. “Kari wants to meet you.” When Vinny’s lip curls, Alex rolls her eyes. “Why are you so against her?”

  “I’m not against her. I just know she isn’t the one for you.”

  Alex crosses her arms over her chest. “You’ve never even met her. So you can’t possibly know that.”

  “I disagree.” She slides on her helmet and snaps the visor up so she can still be clearly heard. “But if it’ll make you happy, let’s do it. Text me a time and place, and I’ll do my best to be there, but let’s avoid early mornings, deal? I know you like to get up with the sun, but some of us bartend and don’t get home until three in the morning.”

  “Deal.”

  “All right. I’ll be there, then.”

  “And you’ll be nice?”

  Vinny smirks inside her helmet. “No promises.” Her Harley roars to life a moment later, and Vinny yells over the rumble, reaching out to briefly touch her sister’s forearm again. “This is your home, Alex. I get that this place is nothing but memories for you, but you have to let yourself live. Go to Pappy’s. Get some pizza. Make new memories.”

  Alex barely manages a smile before Vinny pulls away from the curb. The walk back to her apartment seems almost too cold to bear.

  Charlee watches herself in the bathroom mirror as she secures her remaining diamond earring in her left lobe. The way it sparkles in the fluorescent light makes her feel warm and nostalgic. She used to sit on her parents’ bed whe
n she was little and stare as her mother dressed and donned these same earrings, a gift from Charlee’s father. They found their way into Charlee’s possession not long after the funeral.

  “You look great.” Chris’s face swims into view beside hers in the mirror’s reflection just a second before his arms slink around her waist.

  Charlee gives him a small, tight smile. “Thanks.” His cheek brushes against hers, and Charlee chuckles as she reaches up to gently turn his chin away. “You need to shave.”

  “I thought I might grow it out.”

  They both know he won’t actually let it grow. It always comes in patchy—thin in some places, thick in others, entirely absent around the points of his square chin. He attempted to grow it out shortly after they got together, and that effort resulted in the most ridiculous beard Charlee had ever seen.

  “Are you nervous?” He squeezes her sides and rests his chin on her bare shoulder.

  “About tonight?”

  When he nods, she mirrors the action. “I’ve done this so many times, but I still get nervous. It’s always weird watching people take in the things I’ve created, discuss them, buy them. It feels personal.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The shrug of her shoulder causes Chris’s chin to bounce a bit, but he stays put. “I see someone looking at something I’ve painted. I hear them talking about the colors and the blending and the subject, and all I can think is that that’s the painting I did when I was half-drunk and on my period, still sobbing over some dumb, sad movie I shouldn’t have watched while I was hormonal. Or that’s the one I had to start over halfway through because I knocked over the easel and then the table next to the easel and spilled my Cheerios all over it. Or I’m remembering exactly how lonely or angry or sad or good I felt when I made each one. Every piece has a part of me in it, you know? People are taking home little pieces of me when they buy my work. It’s weird.”

  He is silent for a long time, both of them just standing in the bathroom, staring into the mirror but not really at one another. When he speaks again, he whispers. “Are you okay?”

  Charlee blinks and focuses on his dark brown eyes in the reflection. “Of course,” she says, the words croaking in her throat unexpectedly and sounding anything but convincing. “Why?”

  “You’ve just been quiet lately. Sad, maybe. I don’t know. Just different.”

  She stares into her own eyes in the mirror. Like blue fire, her dad used to say. But now, they seem dull. A little empty. And she feels like she is really seeing herself for the first time in a long time. Her full cheeks are pale. Her lips dip at the corners. She looks every bit as lost as she feels. In a blink, though, the look is gone. Her eyes brighten again as she forces a smile and shakes her head. “I’m fine, Chris.” She rubs his arm where it hangs around her waist. “I’m fine.”

  “I love the city in winter.” Charlee walked with her arm slung through Alex’s and smiled like she didn’t have a care in the world. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s cold.” The wind bit at her neck, so Alex yanked her beanie down over her ears more and shifted closer to Charlee, so close they stumbled over each other’s feet and nearly fell.

  Charlee let out a wild laugh and gripped Alex’s arm tighter. “You love it.”

  “Why don’t we move somewhere where it’s warm year-round?”

  “Because you’d miss your oversized sweaters and your beanies and your leg warmers and your three cups of coffee a day and my ridiculously adorable wintertime smile.”

  Alex pursed her lips. “Maybe just that last one.”

  “And all the others too.” Charlee popped up on her tiptoes to press a cold kiss to Alex’s cheek.

  “I could give those up.”

  “You would sacrifice all your faves?”

  “For the greater good?” Alex nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  “Warm weather is the greater good?”

  “It is right now. My toes are numb, and my ass is freezing, even through my jeans.”

  “A good rub should warm you right up.”

  “You’re going to rub my ass?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.” Her tinkling laughter lingered in the chill. “See? The cold has its benefits.”

  “You wouldn’t rub my ass if it was already warm?” Alex poked Charlee’s side with her elbow. “My warm ass doesn’t appeal to you?”

  “Your ass appeals to me at all temperatures, babe.”

  “Good.”

  “The air is so crisp and clean,” Charlee said after a moment. “The sky is so clear.”

  “The ice is so dangerous.” Alex steered Charlee to the right to avoid a patch that had settled atop the sidewalk.

  Charlee bit Alex’s shoulder through her coat. “Just admit you love the city in winter.”

  “It’s cold.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “So you’ve said.” Alex bumped their hips together. “Where’s this gallery we’re going to again?”

  “Just off Newbury. Not much farther.”

  “Who has an art show in the middle of winter?”

  “Artists who understand how magical winter is, Alex.”

  “Magical?” Alex pinned her with a hard stare.

  “Yes, magical. The phrase winter wonderland exists for a reason, you know.”

  “Coined by an artist, no doubt.”

  “Narnia was a winter wonderland, and that place was amazing.”

  “Weren’t children eaten by a lion in that book?”

  Charlee snorted so hard she choked. “Attacked by a witch.”

  “Horrendous either way.”

  Shifting, Charlee slid both arms around her girlfriend’s middle and pulled one of Alex’s arms around her shoulders. It made for an awkward walk, but Alex didn’t care. The air smelled crisp, and Charlee smelled fantastic, and even in the frigid weather, she was so, so warm.

  “You love winter,” Charlee muttered against the material of Alex’s coat. “I know you do.”

  It was true. Despite all her complaints and despite the fact that she would never admit it, Alex loved winter. She loved it for all the reasons Charlee named and a thousand more. Mostly, though, she loved the way it lit Charlee up, like the sun on fresh snow, and the way Charlee talked about it, the way she smiled and laughed and breathed as if she couldn’t get enough of it. Winter somehow made her even brighter and all the more stunning.

  Alex chuckled and squeezed Charlee’s shoulder. “It’s cold.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  With a sigh, Alex dropped a kiss to the top of her head. Her lips came away wet from flakes of snow melting into the strands. “You’re beautiful.”

  “You made the dinner reservations, right?”

  Kari clings to Alex’s arm in the cold breeze as they walk briskly down the sidewalk toward the art-show venue. She’d seen a flyer for the show tacked to a corkboard at the coffee shop near their new apartment and practically begged Alex to take her. Their first official date in the city. A firm no had nearly slipped from Alex’s lips. She’d lost her love of art shows long ago. But Kari’s eyes had been so wide, and her smile so bright, that Alex couldn’t turn her down.

  The cold nips at the skin of Alex’s legs, and she curses the thin material of her dress slacks. “Yes, Kari, I made the reservations. When have I ever forgotten to do something you asked me to do?”

  “The time I asked you to snake the drain in my apartment.”

  “That was one time! And it wasn’t a big deal.”

  “The kitchen flooded,” Kari says. “The countertop was soaked.”

  Alex huffs and shakes her head, briefly wishing she had brought her earmuffs. She’d had Kari fix her hair into a tight bun at the back of her head, and while it looked good, her ears were now achingly exposed to the cold. “Well, I didn’t forget to ma
ke the dinner reservations tonight. Eight thirty.”

  “Okay, good,” Kari says, grinning at her. “I’m excited. It’s our first night out since we moved.”

  “I know.” Alex gives a thin smile. “It would be nice if it wasn’t so cold, though. My toes are tiny blocks of ice at this point.”

  Kari laughs. She stumbles a bit when one of her heels catches in a crack on the sidewalk, but she clings to Alex to keep from falling. It only makes her laugh harder. “Your toes aren’t that small.”

  Alex glares at her in the thin light of the early evening and says, “I could’ve let you fall.”

  Another loud bark of laughter jumps from Kari’s lips. “You have long toes,” she says. “Cute but long. It remains a fact whether you let me fall or not.”

  “I’ll go home,” Alex warns. “You will suffer this frigid date on your own.”

  “No, you won’t. It’s too cold for you to walk home by yourself.”

  “True.”

  The wind picks up as they turn a corner, and Kari shuffles closer. “How is it possible that it’s this cold?”

  “New England winters are rough. You wouldn’t know anything about that.”

  “Hey, we have winter in Sacramento.”

  “Okay.” Alex snorts. “Sure you do.” She holds up her gloved fingers to make air quotes. “Winter.”

  “We do!”

  “You forget I lived there too,” Alex says, “for years.”

  “Oh, shut it.” Kari pops up on her toes and smacks a kiss to Alex’s cheek. “I’m surprised you survived so many years here before that. You hate winter.”

  Alex’s lips dip with a frown, a flash of pain sparking in her chest. It strikes her so hard and so fast that she sucks in a sharp, icy breath, and for just a moment, she thinks about saying “it’s cold,” but she doesn’t.

  It’s beautiful. The words jump into her mind as an automatic response to her own briefly considered words, an instinct. She can almost hear them and half expects them to split the air any second, but they don’t. They won’t. Because this isn’t then, and Kari isn’t Charlee.