But not yet. Not just yet. First, she would have this year. She would give herself this one year, so that in the years of grey ahead, she would have the memory of something colourful to cling to. Something bright, something vivid. To prepare for the years to come.
Falling in love like this, so quickly and so completely, had not been part of that plan at all. She wasn’t ready to settle down just yet. Wasn’t ready to give herself so utterly to anyone or anything. Every morning she woke, her mind made up, her resolve strengthened by sleep, to turn to Tom and tell him to go.
“We had fun,” she would say, more flippantly than she felt, “but it’s time to go our separate ways.”
And then Tom would open his eyes, those damnably brown eyes flecked with amber and gold, before smiling that lazy smile of his, and Ari’s resolve would falter. By the time he ran a finger down her cheek and pulled her in for a kiss, her resolve was all but gone.
“Tomorrow,” she’d think. “I’ll tell him tomorrow.”
From Oslo they go north, travelling across the country to Kristiansund. It’s a coastal town, a palate of greys, whites and ocean blues, and Tom sits by Ari’s side while she tries to capture the colours. He’s silent for the most part, and occasionally she looks back to him, only to find him staring out to the ocean, seemingly lost in thought. Towards the end of the day, when the sky starts to streak pink and purple with the coming night, her curiosity gets the better of her.
“What are you thinking of?” she asks, absently adding colour to her canvas, and he startles at her words. His face instantly sharpens, and there is a hint of a scowl to his mouth, as though unhappy at being caught in a moment of self-reflection.
“Oh,” he says with a shrug, “I was just thinking about where we are. How far from everything it feels.”
“Too far?” she queries, and he shakes his head.
“Not far enough.”
She pauses at that, chewing on her lip. A question suddenly rears up, one that has been on her lips from the moment he first boarded her plane to Oslo.
She clears her throat. “Tom,” her voice is gentle, “are you running away from something?”
He stares back at her, and his eyes are intent, searching her face as though looking for something.
“Yes,” he replies slowly, and her stomach drops.
“Is that... is that why you’re here with me? Am I just something for you to latch onto? Something to help you escape?”
“No.” This time, his reply is instant. “No. I’m here with you because, from the moment I saw you, something felt different.”
“Bad different?” she asks warily.
“Good different,” he says, a smile creeping across his cheeks. “Wonderful different.”
She nods at that, although she doesn’t understand, not really. She has so many questions about Tom. There’s still so much she doesn’t know about him. She looks back to her painting, to the myriad of greys and pastel sunset tones, and suddenly can’t make sense of it. The colours blur together in a confusing mix of oils and acrylics, and she frowns.
“Ari,” Tom suddenly says, but she keeps her head down. “Ari, look at me.” He’s more insistent this time, and she takes a glance in his direction. He’s gazing at her steadily, his face full of concern. “Ari, you have to understand something.”
“What?” she whispers. “What do I have to understand?”
He sighs. “Life isn’t simple, Ari. It isn’t easy. There isn’t a map to follow, or one road to take. There’s hundreds. Thousands even. And sometimes you can take the wrong one.”
“Did you take the wrong one?” she asks.
A frown briefly crosses his lips. “Yeah.” She’s taken aback by the bitter tone to his words. “Yeah, I took the wrong one. A dozen wrong ones. The wrong career. The wrong girl. The wrong decision. I took them all.”
A dart of pain runs through her, and her skin must pale, because in an instant Tom is beside her, wrapping her into his arms. “You aren’t the wrong girl,” he whispers passionately into her ear. “You’ll never be the wrong girl.”
“But you said . . .”
“I know what I said. But that wrong girl... she isn’t you. You aren’t the wrong road for me, Ari, you’re the right one. The only one.”
She nods, Tom’s heartbeat a steady thump on her cheek. He tilts her chin up, so she’s forced to look him in the eye, and he smiles down at her. “Ari,” he says softly, his voice as gentle asthe sea breeze on her face. “Sometimes you have to get lost to find your way.”
“What if I want to be lost though?” she asks, trying not to melt too much into his gaze, his arms or heart. “What if I want to try different roads?”
She sees him swallow, sees a shadow of doubt flicker over his face. “Then you should try them,” he says, and she can see the effort it takes him to speak those words. “You should live your life, exactly the way you want.”
