Penelope
Tilting my head,I studied the canvas. I’d been working on a new painting—acrylic on canvas—for a few weeks and I was finally starting to feel like it was coming together.
It was an ocean beach, similar to one I’d visited when I was a child. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, staining the sky with shades of pink, purple, and orange. White-tipped waves stretched as far as the eye could see and the gray sand contrasted with the colorful sky.
My painting area was in a storage room off the garage. A space heater provided enough warmth that I’d taken off my cardigan, and the window let in just enough natural light. It wasn’t the ideal space, but it was what we had room for. Sean didn’t want to share his home office.
Although I wasn’t sure why. He hardly ever used it.
I checked the time. The celebration of life was that afternoon, and while I still felt a twinge of anxiety about going, paying my respects in person felt like the right thing to do. I was just glad Sean had agreed to go with me—grudgingly or not. I really didn’t want to go alone.
After adding a few more brushstrokes, I took another long look, recalling something Edwin had said in class—sometimes a painting is finished even when we don’t think it’s perfect.
That was how my beach painting felt. It wasn’t exactly what I’d intended to paint, but continuing to tinker wasn’t going to improve it. I needed to let it be what it had become.
I put everything away and went to the kitchen to clean my brushes, idly wondering what Sean was up to. We still had some time before we needed to leave, but I had to plan ahead in case he headed into the bathroom. I didn’t know if it was an over-thirty thing, or just a guy thing, but he could spend forty-five minutes in there like it was nothing.
Before I could call for him to see where he was, he came out of the bedroom and started putting on his shoes.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Yeah.”
“Um…where?”
“Chad’s.”
I hesitated, waiting for him to explain, but he didn’t. Just tied the lace on his shoe.
“What’s going on at Chad’s? Will you be gone long?”
“We’re testing out his new home theater.”
“But…”
“What? Are you going to be mad because I didn’t invite you? It’s just the guys.”
My heart sank and my shoulders slumped. “No. The celebration of life is today.”
His eyebrows drew in. “What celebration of life?”
“For Edwin Morris. You know, the painter?”
“Oh. You actually want to go to that?”
“Yes, I do.”
He shrugged. “I forgot.”
I glanced away. Of course he forgot. He’d probably only been half listening when I’d told him the day and time.
By the way Sean hesitated, his eyes on me, I knew he was waiting for me to tell him it was fine. That he should go hang out with his friends. And in that split second, I realized that was exactly what I was going to say. I didn’t even want him to go with me anymore.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll go by myself.”
He nodded, as if that was exactly what he’d wanted—expected—me to say. “Good. I gotta go.”
He grabbed his things and left.
