I nod, confused, and hug her. She squeezes me back harder than I expected, and even though she remains calm, she does take a number of long, intense breaths.
“I am okay, Allison. I really am,” she says in my ear. “Please know that, and please get him to see that. So, make him talk to you. Promise me that you will.”
My stomach drops, and I know something is very wrong. I pull back to look at her directly. “I promise.”
“Now, I am going to enjoy the rest of my night.” She puts on a real smile. “Is hunky Jason still here?”
I point to the front of the room, where Jason is awkwardly buttoning and unbuttoning his blazer. “I don’t think he’s leaving any time soon.”
“God, he’s so hot,” she says.
“And tall,” I point out.
“Way tall. I find that so sexy.” She giggles and heads toward him. A few feet away, she looks back, more solemn again. “Hey, Allison? Thank you.”
My heart hurts when I go to Esben. He’s still in front of the painting, and I stand next to him.
I catch my breath when I take in what’s in front of me. It’s another abstract, but unlike the other Kerry produced, this one screams its colors, its anger. Harsh brushstrokes rip across the canvas, jagged edges create a border that unsettles me, and everything about her work is fueled by rage. Slowly, I let my eyes travel to the card underneath.
TITLE:SHATTERME
ARTIST: KERRYBAYLOR
Esben has not moved. His voice trembles when he finally speaks, and I can barely hear him. “Can we go? I want to go.”
“Of course.” But he stays where he is.
I take his hand. “Esben, look at me.”
Slowly, slowly, he does. His eyes are sad. So tremendously sad.
“I’ve got you,” I tell him. “I’ve got you. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 19
RELIVING
I lead him out the back door, and he walks with me numbly. The wind is bitter tonight, and I pull his coat closed, because he doesn’t seem to notice the cold. When we get back to my room, I sit him on the couch.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask.
He’s slumped over, looking at the floor. “No.”
“Okay.”
Esben shakes off his coat and tosses it on the floor. “Actually, yes.”
After some rummaging, I pour him a shot of what’s left from Steffi’s visit, and he waves away my offer of lime and salt and shoots the tequila straight. I sit next to him and wait. He takes two more shots and then leans forward and rubs his face.
“I spoke with Kerry,” I offer gently.
He nods from behind his hands.
“She’d like you to tell me about the painting.”
“No. I can’t.” His voice is level and sure. He’s not messing around here. “I don’t want you to hear this, Allison.”
“You’ve heard all of my stories. All of my pain. Let me hold some of yours.” I am overtaken by how I am only now considering that Esben’s past may include anything but love and ease. It’s only tonight that I realize that no one gets through life unscathed. Not even Esben. I was blinded by what I saw as his untainted life, his unfailing positivity. But even the best and the strongest are penetrable.
