“Nope, I picked up another Saturday shift at the Grumpy Goat, and other than the date I had tonight, I’m afraid it’s a pretty quiet weekend for me. Might try and paint this weekend.”
Sarah’s eyes snapped up at that mention, surprised, given Beth’s wine-confession the week before that she hadn’t painted anything since Jamie’s death.
“How was your date? Anything promising?” Nell asked, making Sarah’s head whip around to stare at her because what the hell, Nell. Really?
Beth grinned, a faint blush tinting the high points of her freckled cheeks. “It was a great one tonight. I had a lot of fun, and we’re going to see each other again next weekend. She’s a photographer, so we spent a good portion of our date talking about art. It was nice to connect with someone on that level again.”
“There’s something really special about that spark that comes with shared passions,” Nell said smoothly.
“There is, isn’t there?” Beth, still smiling, looked at Sarah. “You okay, Sar? You’re usually not this quiet.”
“Yup, all good,” Sarah said in a way that sounded nothing like her. “So—uh, painting this weekend?” she asked, trying to steer the conversation away from Beth’s “great” date.
“Eh, we’ll see. The ideas are there, but I’ve been getting hung up on the execution portion.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do. To, you know, help,” Sarah said sincerely.
The grainy voice announcing their arrival crackled over the ship’s intercom, and the three of them rose from their spots, making their way to the exit to disembark. They walked together to the parking lot where Beth got into her car, and Nell and Sarah got into theirs, going their separate ways.
Nell reached out, turning down the volume of the Alicia Keys album Sarah had put on for her. “Remember how you said you moved on from Beth? You’re so full of shit. What’s the plan, Gallagher?”
Sarah had no fucking clue.
That Sunday afternoon, after Sarah had dropped Nell off at the airport, she was out around town running errands when she passed by a familiar art supplies store. She recognized the logo purely because it had been Beth’s go-to store for years and appeared on their joint credit card bill as a recurring charge. She flicked her blinker on and turned into the parking lot.
Inside the store, Sarah pushed a blue plastic cart up and down aisle after aisle of semi-familiar-to-unfamiliar art supplies. She obviously recognized the basics, but art had never really been her thing. What she lacked in right-brained-ness, she made up for in left-brained linear thinking and analysis.
“Can I help you find anything?” a girl in her mid-twenties asked, appearing next to her out of virtually nowhere, making Sarah jump. Yeah, she definitely had a strong aversion to art stores, but she had an idea for how to help Beth with her painter’s block problem, and once Sarah got an idea in her head, there was no backing down.
“Actually, yes. I’m looking to help a friend of mine get over a little bit of painter’s block. I need a roll of canvas and paint. Nothing too expensive, but nice enough,” she added as an afterthought, following the girl three aisles over to a wall of paints.
“What kind of paint? Watercolor, oil, acrylic, spray paint? What are you trying to make?”
“A painting,” Sarah responded automatically. “Oh, duh, I guess. Um, I think acrylic will work for what I have in mind.”
The girl showed her the acrylic paints and informed Sarah that “canvas by the roll can be found in aisle fifteen” before leaving her to shop in peace.
Sarah stared at the paints, unsure where to even start. She wasn’t good at this. Had never been good at any of this, but art was the reason she and Beth had met all those years ago, and Beth loved art, so Sarah had learned to love art too. She’d tried her best over the years to really listen and take in all the tidbits of random art knowledge and factoids that Beth had peppered her with. Still, unfortunately for her, she had a mind that struggled to listen to things she wasn’t interested in—something she had worked very hard on over the years to correct.
She decided to grab one tube of every color and two of white and black, remembering how Beth would fly through those colors when working. In aisle fifteen, she found the rolls of canvas right where the girl had said they would be. Sarah brought her cart of items to the register, where the same girl began ringing her up.
“Do you have a perks points account with us?” she asked, and Sarah was sure it was due to a corporate policy that pushed enrollment in the program.
“I think so?” She rattled off her phone number.
“Beth Gallagher?” the girl asked, catching Sarah off guard. It had been years since she had heard her last name attached to Beth’s name.
“Yup, that’s me,” she said quietly, wondering why Beth had never updated the account. Or if she even still used it.
Sarah paid for the supplies and loaded everything in her car, firing off a text to Beth before driving home.
Sarah: 4:37 PM
Do you have a free evening this week? I went back and grabbed a bottle of that Viognier you liked so much from Grapes of Wrath. I’m thinking wine and chat? Maybe a cheese board? Thoughts? Would a surprise sweeten the deal? Because I have one of those for you, too.
Sarah set her phone aside and began her drive home. She had just pulled onto the road leading to her house when a new message flashed across the car’s display, and the automated voice read it aloud for her.
Beth 4:46 PM
