Damaged

by Miley Maine

“Oh? Is that so?”

  “Yes. It’s filled to the brim with art and books and mismatched armchairs. I’m always struggling to find room when I make new pieces to display them without making it feel cluttered.”

  Vincent snorted. “I think you and Maya would have gotten along well.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. She really loved to paint too. She insisted on making art for our house and she was on a mission to fill the rooms with her masterpieces. She would have loved what you’re doing.”

  “I’m glad.” I was glad. I knew that Vincent loved his late wife, so to say that she would have liked me was a big deal. But something about the comparison made me feel a little strange. Perhaps it was misplaced jealousy?

  “Well, if you have any pieces that you’re struggling to find room for in the near future, let me know. I’ve been meaning to purchase some more art. There are some rooms that Maya was never able to get to and I know that they’d feel more lively with some personality in them.”

  “Thank you, I really appreciate the offer,” I said, not able to help the wide grin that took up most of my face. This was the first time someone other than a family member had offered to buy my art. And I already knew that Vincent had to have standards—he had managed to pick out a wine that I enjoyed, after all.

  We continued our conversation until dinner came and then talked with each other as we ate. The conversation was lively and the food was as good as always. I even found myself enjoying each of the wines that he had selected for us to try.

  We talked more about art, about how I had first decided to become an artist and my journey towards that. He told me that he used to follow cartoon drawing books when he was little, but he was never very good at it. When he had realized that he was much better at academia he had devoted all his time to studying and that left none for art.

  “You should try to get into it again,” I said, making him pause as he was lifting a bit of pasta to his mouth. “No one is good without practice. Besides, it can be a good way to destress after a long day.”

  He chuckled, setting his fork down. “Destressing for sure, at least when you’re telling me how to do it, but then...I think it’s mostly your voice.”

  I cocked my head and he continued. “You have a very soothing voice. It’s patient and calming. I’m used to being a perfectionist, but your voice made it seem less stressful.”

  I gave him a wide grin. “Thank you, that’s kind of my job. I have to know how to help people bring down their walls so that their true thoughts and feelings can come out.

  He laughed, shaking his head. “It certainly seems like you’ve done that with me.”

  I softened my expression, holding his gaze for several seconds. “I’m just happy that you feel comfortable enough to open up to me.”

  He reached across the table to grasp my hand, rubbing his thumb over mine and making my heart skip a beat.

  “Thank you, Emma. It means a lot.”

  How could he expect me not to develop feelings for him when he kept doing things like this?

  I laughed a little, withdrawing my hand, and the conversation quickly turned back to normal.

  When the bill came, Vincent took it without hesitation and wouldn’t let me pay for the dinner, no matter how much I protested.

  “Your company has been more than enough,” he said. “Allow me to get this one, as evidence of my gratitude.”

  “But it’s me who should be grateful! You’re already donating so much to the school and—”

  “There’s no arguing on this one, it’s already been decided,” Vincent said, handing the bill and his credit card off to the waiter with a triumphant smirk. “Really, you should just accept people’s generosity when it comes your way.”

  I let out a sigh and slide down in my seat. “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

  Vincent shrugged as the waiter handed him back his credit card. “Who knows. Shall we?” He stood, offering me his arm, and I took it.

  I knew it was wrong when all of his affections were just leading me to fall deeper for him. He was obviously still grieving the death of his late wife and child. I couldn’t let myself think of this as anything more than a friendship.

  The universe seemed to have other plans, though, for as we got to my car, Vincent leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek to see me off. I just about died.

  Chapter Eight

  Vincent

  If there was one thing that the dinner made me certain of it, it was that I enjoyed spending time with Emma a great deal.

  I didn’t quite want a relationship with her at the moment, but I did want to stay in her life and continue to become closer friends with her. Maybe things would progress that way eventually. In that case, I would be happy for them to. But I couldn’t now, not yet. There was still too much that I hadn’t worked through.

  I had a wonderful time with her, though. She was a good conversationalist; she agreed with just enough to keep things amicable and disagreed just enough to make it interesting.

  I needed to figure out how I wanted to keep in contact with her.

  It had been a while since I had actually had a friend, as I pushed a lot of people away after the death of Maya and everyone else after the death of Gavin. I didn’t exactly know what it was I was supposed to do. Would we just keep having dinner together every so often? Was I supposed to text her? Ask her to my house?

  I didn’t know anymore. The whole thing felt forced and awkward.

  Sighing, I stood from my seated position at the desk in my study. Maybe a walk would help me gather my thoughts or bring me the answers I so desperately desired.

  I meandered through the halls and then out to the garden.

  If there was one thing that Maya had not been good at, it was gardening. She ended up killing all the plants that she touched. She hated it and always tried to be better, making me buy her plants that would inevitably wilt within the week.

  At one point she had even tried to work with the gardener, but he had kicked her out of the garden after she managed to bring his prized rose bush to the brink of death.

  I would buy her a thousand succulents and flower bushes if she was still here now. In fact, I would do just about anything to have her back.

  Sometimes it didn’t quite feel like she was gone. I would round a corner or travel down to the kitchen at one a.m. and expect to see her, maybe smelling a flower or sneaking ice cream from the freezer.

  Sometimes I woke up in the middle of the night and was confused by the fact that she wasn’t there, filling my arms. Then reality dawned and grief filled me once again.

  Even five years had not much softened the hole she had left. I didn’t know if it would ever fully heal. It certainly didn’t help that I was trying to avoid it whenever I could.

  Genevieve was right. She always was. I had never fully processed my grief. I had never allowed myself to.

  I think because it felt like, if I did, then she would finally be gone. I worried that I would forget her, that the ghostly traces of her would disappear from my life.

  Gavin had.

  He was more than just a trace of her, but one of my first thoughts after he had died was I’ve lost her again.

  I was in the gardens now, running my hand over one of the rose bushes. They were blooming and beautiful: pink with red edges to the petals.

  The gardener had bred them in Maya’s memory.

  I was definitely getting off-topic. I had wanted to think about rebuilding my life, about my budding friendship with Emma.

  Perhaps I needed room for them though. Could I let go of grief enough to make room for happiness?

  Genevieve was the first to notice that something was a little different.

  I was at my desk, going over the newest case files when she came in, not even bothering to knock, carrying another stack of paperwork.

  “I’ve got the financial statements for this month for you to look through,” she said, plopping them down on my desk.

 
“Oh, you do, do you?” I said, raising a singular brow. “I guess I should look through those.”

  She settled her hands on her hips. “You better. It’s important that you approve them. Remember, you’re the one who asked to be involved with everything.”

  I let out a long sigh. “I know, I know. It’s important to me that I run this company with integrity. Doing things like this means there are fewer cracks for unsavory types to slip through.”

  She shook her head, smiling. “Sounds to me like you just want more work to do.” She sat down at her own desk, opening up her laptop.

  “You better not be playing games on there while I’m slaving away over this paperwork,” I grumbled.

  “Of course I’m not,” she said with a laugh. “You know, you’ve been a little different lately.”

  I looked up from the reports. “How so?”

  “Well, you’ve seemed happier, for one. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smiling so much before and you’ve been walking slightly different too.”

  I thought about it, and realized she was right (as she always was). My friendship with Emma and what I had done for the kids in her class had made things feel a little better. I had felt different since then, even if there was still heavy grief.

  Maybe things were finally going to get better.

  “Hey, Genevieve.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “How do you be friends with someone?”

  She let out a large laugh, then quickly silenced it and looked at me with a barely concealed smile. “Sorry, that just sounded so much like the question a child would ask. What do you mean? Or maybe you should just tell me what’s brought this on.”

  I sighed. “You know it’s been a while since I’ve...well, had any friends to speak of. The teacher of the class I took to Disney World and I hit it off, and I want to continue being friends with her. She took me to dinner and we had a wonderful conversation.”

  “Hmmm.” Genevieve’s eyebrows knotted together. “Do you like her romantically?”

  “I don’t want to be in a relationship with her right now, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Ah, then that’s a little different. You don’t want to give her the impression that you’re looking for one.”

  “Do you think I have been?”

  “I don’t know, I would have to hear more about how you’ve been approaching this. I think my best advice is to take things slow. She should reach out if she also wants to be friends with you. See what you can do to hang out, but make it super casual. Coffee, lunches, the like. Don’t do anything that might make her think you want a romantic relationship. Text her a bit, but nothing too crazy, you know?”

  I sighed. “I guess so. It all seems rather complicated.”

  She gave me a warm smile. “It really isn’t. You’re just out of touch at the moment.”

  “Perhaps, but I don’t pay you to critique how out of touch I am with the world.”

  She shrugged. “It was you who asked. I was just trying to help.” She turned back to her laptop, her perfectly manicured nails click-clacking away on the keys.

  Perhaps. Perhaps that was the way to go about things, but I wouldn’t know if it would be something that worked for me until I tried it.

  Making sure that Genevieve wasn’t watching, I pulled out my phone and sent Emma a quick text.

  Hey, what are you up to?

  I had to wait several minutes for a reply, so at first I just assumed that she was busy and went back to my paperwork. But then my phone buzzed and I looked down to see her reply.

  Just finished up a class, and preparing the next lesson. What about you?

  Oh, you know, some boring financial paperwork.

  That’s too bad, today is lovely. I keep getting distracted staring out the windows.

  I smiled to myself at the mental image of Emma staring wistfully out of the windows, a strand of hair falling in her face, her paintbrush hanging loosely from one hand over a half-finished painting.

  I wish I could get distracted by my windows, but in my office, they’re behind me.

  At least your office has windows. I know quite a few unlucky souls who have to work in windowless rooms.

  In beautiful Florida? Now that really is a shame.

  I had made extra sure that all the buildings in my firm had windows. It was one of the things that Maya insisted on. She said no one could really get any good work done in a windowless room and I found myself agreeing with her.

  A windowless room tended to feel like a prison and it slowly led to a hatred of work and the space that one worked in. I encouraged all my employees to personalize their workspaces so that they actually looked forward to coming to work. Or, at least, dreaded it quite a bit less.

  I know, right? I’m so glad to have so many windows in my classroom.

  Emma did. Her classroom was on a corner of the school, so two full walls were covered in windows. It was one of the things I remembered fondly about her classroom.

  I wish I could be there right now, it sounds lovely, I texted her, already daydreaming about what it would be like to work in her classroom instead of in my office.

  The walls had children’s artwork all over it and there was a sense of comforting messiness to it while still being organized. All the cabinets were painted in fun colors with cute patterns and characters and there was just a feeling of warmth to it.

  Why don’t you come in tomorrow? I know that the kids enjoyed having you last time.

  The kids? Or was it you who really enjoyed having me, I teased, already mentally going over the schedule for tomorrow in my mind. I should be able to move things around enough that I would be able to take the time to go in the next day.

  Okay, okay, it’s really both. But seriously, you should come in. We’re doing sculpture this time. I think you’d have some fun experimenting with a different medium.

  Sculpture was something that Maya had never really done. Like gardening, it was something that she just wasn’t good at it, so we never did it. It would be interesting to see what it was like, and if I was any better at it than she had been.

  Probably not. I was pretty hopeless when it came to the visual arts. Emma knew this about me already.

  Okay, but I can’t promise I’ll be any good.

  That’s okay, you don’t have to be. Most of the fun is just doing it.

  I smiled. I liked that outlook. It was one of the things that I found really refreshing about Emma. She seemed to do things just for the fun of doing them, not caring about how good the actual outcome was.

  “Lecture me about playing games and then you’re sitting over there on your cell phone? I mean, really,” Genevieve grumbled from across the room and I realized that I hadn’t been as discreet as I’d thought.

  “Just trying to put some of the principals you suggested to use.”

  “While smiling that much? Sir, are you sure you don’t have feelings for this girl?”

  I wasn’t. But I also wasn’t ready for anything at the moment.

  “You can question me on your own time, Genevieve. Let’s both get back to work.”

  She shook her head. “Sure, sure, let’s both get back to work, you say, but I see you slacking off over there.”

  Genevieve was the only person in my company who I would ever allow to speak to me in that way. We had known each other for a while, so I allowed her to tease me and offer unsolicited advice and suggestions. She was a good person and she had known my parents. I trusted her and I enjoyed her company.

  But I was also looking forward to tomorrow. I knew I would enjoy Emma’s company even more.

  Chapter Nine

  Emma

  Even though Vincent had told me that he was going to be coming today, I was still surprised and excited to see him when he walked into the classroom.

  “Hope I’m not too early,” he said, setting his bag down by my desk.

  “Not at all!” I flashed him a smile. “I hoped that you would come a bit before class started.�
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  “Good, because here I am now.” He let out a laugh, then stood up to look at me. “Should I have worn something different?” He gestured to his clothes, which were almost obnoxiously nice even though they were just a soft t-shirt and jeans.

  “I mean, you should be fine, but I still wouldn’t want you to ruin your clothes,” I said, then began to look around in the cabinets. “It should be here somewhere, aha!”

  Triumphantly, I pulled out a pink and yellow art apron, similar to the one I was wearing.

  “Here, put this on.”

  He looked down at the apron with a grin as I handed it to him then back up at me.

  “Really? The kids will have a field day with this.”

  “Oh come on, they’re nice. I’ll tell them not to tease you.”

  “I don’t think that will help my case at all,” he said, already putting on the apron.

  “I can look for a different one if you want,” I started, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand.

  “No, it’s alright. And this way we’re matching.” He pointed to my own apron.

  “Oh.” I blushed. “You’re right. It’s kind of cute, isn’t it.”

  He laughed, a handsome, deep sound. “It sure is. Look at the two of us.”

  He came around to stand next to me and gestured down at the aprons. “A pair of artists.”

  I giggled, feeling the heat rise in my face. “Yes, a pair of artists for sure. Or at least, we will be once I’m done with you.”

  He stepped back, mocking offense. “How dare you insinuate that I am not an artist already. I’ll have you know that I’ve made quite a few masterpieces in my lifetime.”

  “Oh, sure, sure,” I teased. “How could I dare to insult such a master? Why do I even dare to be in his presence? All praise the master artist.”

  He crossed his arms, putting on a smug expression. “That’s right. You should feel lucky that I have graced you with my appearance.”

  I sighed, looking at him with a smile. “In all seriousness, I’m glad that you’re here. I like spending time with you.”