Canvas for Love

by Charlotte Greene

  “I’m in Miami now,” he went on, “and I just wanted to let you know everything is on time. I’ll be there at four this afternoon.”

  “Good. One problem: I don’t know what you look like. How will I know who you are?”

  He paused. “I can put on my porkpie hat. It’s red. And I’m wearing a black T-shirt, if that helps. How about you?”

  I looked down at myself. I had on some of my painting togs—a ratty T-shirt and paint-splattered jean shorts. “I don’t know what I’ll be wearing. But I’ll bring a little sign with your name, like a chauffeur.”

  “Sounds good. Looking forward to meeting you, Chloé.”

  “Me, too.”

  I hung up, smiling. Now that Kate’s wedding was only a week away, I’d begun to get excited about it. I’d long put to rest the idea that she would be moving away soon. I was still sad about that, but now that I was getting used to the idea, it didn’t seem quite as depressing as before. I could tell she was ready for a change, and she deserved any happiness she could find, even if it took her far away from me. And anyway, after she finished the school year, she and I would have an adjustment period as she and Jim came back and forth for a while.

  I spent a little more time than was probably necessary getting ready to go to the airport. I used to ignore, perhaps on purpose, the figure I cut on a first impression. For a long time, I’d considered myself above such things. After working with Amelia, who was very concerned about looks and appearances, I was now in the habit of looking my best for someone new. The weather was finally starting to heat up, so I donned a light afternoon dress and did my hair and makeup, almost as if I were meeting with a rich client of Amelia’s. I arrived early at the airport and parked, getting out so I could meet Jonathan by the baggage claim.

  When I made my way into the over-air-conditioned lobby, however, I saw on the arrivals screen that the plane had been early. I hustled over to the correct luggage carousel and spotted Jonathan long before he saw me. He was staring at his phone, his little red porkpie hat set back on his head, looking a little lost. I paused, straightened my dress, and walked directly over to him.

  “Jonathan?” I asked.

  He looked up, and I was greeted by a pair of startling deep-brown eyes. He was tall and tan, and clearly muscular from outdoor work. Like his father, he was in the construction business, though I’d gathered from what Jim had told me that Jonathan worked more on the design end of things than his father did. He had that casual, shaved-yesterday look about him, with messy auburn curls poking out from beneath the hat. With the clean, handsome lines of his face and his trim physique, he looked like a supermodel on his day off.

  “Chloé?” he asked. He looked me up and down so quickly I might have missed it.

  I nodded, and then we both hesitated before giving each other a quick hug. Neither of us had experience with this kind of situation. Soon we would be what, stepsiblings? Stepcousins? For me, at our age, either designation seemed strange and a little silly.

  “How was the flight?” I asked.

  He launched into the story as we made our way out into the now-sweltering afternoon heat. He seemed unfazed by the temperature, and I remembered that Florida was likely hotter, if anything, than here. When we approached my car, I saw him pause, his mouth dropping comically open.

  “Is this your car?” he asked.

  “Yes. What about it?”

  He left his suitcase standing in the parking lane and walked around my Mercedes, eating it up with his eyes. When he finished, he whistled. “Wow. This is the CLA Coupe? The German model?”

  I shrugged. “I think so.”

  He looked at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. “You don’t know what kind of car you drive?”

  I laughed. “No, I guess not. It was…” I paused, thinking of how to phrase the explanation. The car had been a gift from Amelia, but it seemed ridiculous to tell him that. I’d assumed the car was expensive but had never looked into it before. I was too embarrassed to know the cost.

  I decided to fib. “It’s for work.”

  He looked relieved. “Whew. You had me scared there for a minute. I didn’t think you were that rich.”

  We got on the highway and immediately became stuck in traffic. As we waited, I got him to talk about his work in the Keys. He lives in Key West, but his work takes him all over South Florida, even as far north as Miami. He’s an architect by training but became involved in construction right out of school, and now does a little of both—designing and building.

  “So what kind of work do you do?” he asked. “You get to tool around in a sixty-thousand-dollar car, so it must be pretty lucrative.”

  I didn’t know how to answer him, in part because I didn’t know how much Jim had told him about my recent past. I would be lying if I told him I still worked for Amelia, but on the other hand, I hadn’t completed any final paperwork that said otherwise. Still, I decided the truth was better.

  “I’m an artist, and I start work at the state university this fall,” I told him.

  “Damn. You must be a great artist. I know professors don’t make enough for this kind of vehicle.”

  I didn’t respond. It didn’t feel right to lie to this man—my future stepbrother?—but lying by omission was better than giving him the whole story, at least for now.

  We were still inching along the highway, far from our exit, but Jonathan seemed at ease. I tried to relax, wondering what else we could talk about, but he provided the next topic a moment later.

  “So, you taking anyone to the wedding?”

  I turned to look at him and saw that he was grinning widely, expectantly. I shook my head. “No.”

  “That’s good—me neither. Maybe we can hang out, dance a little, that kind of thing. I hate going to weddings on my own, and my brothers’ girlfriends are coming later this week.”

  We were stuck in one spot, so I was still looking at him, and his face suddenly flushed with color as I continued to meet his eyes. “Wait—I’m sorry,” he sputtered. “That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was hitting on you.”

  I laughed. “It’s okay. I know what you meant.”

  The car in front of us moved an inch or two, and we crept forward and stopped again. I could feel his eyes on me and looked over at him again. He appeared puzzled, as if trying to remember something. His expression cleared when he did.

  “Oh, wait. That’s right. I forgot,” he said.

  I was looking ahead now, as it appeared that the cars in front of us were finally starting to move again.

  “Forgot what?” I asked.

  “I forgot what my dad told me about you.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “You’re a lesbian, right?”

  I had to slam on the brakes as the car in front of me screeched to a halt, and we were both squashed into our seat belts for a moment. I breathed heavily for a long time, trying to calm my racing heart.

  “Jesus, that was close,” he said.

  We started inching forward again, and I kept my eyes rooted to the road in front of me, hands clenched on the steering wheel.

  He cleared his throat. “So? Are you?”

  We’d come to a stop again, and I looked over at him. I’d been trying to suppress my annoyance, but it was now too strong to push down. “You want to know if I’m a lesbian? Why? What the hell difference does it make?”

  He looked surprised and then mortified, but I had to return my attention to the road. We drove for about twenty seconds before we had to stop again. Our creeping progress had given me time to calm down, and I glanced over at him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

  “I just remembered my dad said you and your girlfriend were having problems. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. It’s none of my business.”

  I tried to give him a smile, but I was suddenly teary and looked away. It was just like Jim to be open about something like this, and I couldn�
�t blame Jonathan for wondering about me. I was curious about him, too. However, I didn’t know what I was anymore if I didn’t have Amelia. When we’d first started dating, I’d considering calling myself bisexual, but the longer we were together, the more certain I’d become that I’d found my true self through her—that I was, in fact, a lesbian. The problem now was adapting to the life of a single lesbian. I’d never had to consider that status before.

  I gave him a quick grin. “To answer your question, yes, I’m a lesbian. I like breasts, I like sex with women, I like long legs in dresses, I like the smell of a woman after a night of sex, and I like seeing a woman wake up and look at me like I’m the only thing in the world.”

  He guffawed. “Hey—you and me both, sister.”

  “So that’s one thing we have in common,” I told him, and we both laughed.

  We were finally reaching the accident that had caused all of this traffic, and it looked horrific, even from several cars back. I could see smoke and several fire engines and emergency vehicles, all of which had blocked off two lanes of the interstate. I started to merge to the left, and as we inched by, I glanced over at the wreckage. A car had been destroyed. It had flipped onto its roof and smashed into the guard rail. Something had caught fire, and the car was a blackened shell of smoking metal. I was certain that anyone in there had been killed. I couldn’t see any other wrecked cars, but it was hard to tell if another hadn’t already been towed off. I finally wrenched my gaze away and looked ahead, and a moment later we were free of the jam. The rest of the trip went quickly, but I drove more slowly than usual, the sight of a possible death making me cautious.

  We stopped by a sandwich shop for an easy dinner, Jonathan buying a literal mountain of food, excited to see different ingredients than he was used to. We pulled into my driveway, and I helped him carry his suitcase and the food inside. Given his height, I’d already decided to give him my bedroom rather than make him sleep on my little couch, and we argued about the arrangement when I told him. I was glad our earlier awkwardness had passed. He was easygoing and took my teasing about his height lightly.

  “The bedroom will be more private,” I told him for the fifth time. “Especially for a giant.” I leaned down once again to grab his suitcase to take upstairs.

  He took his suitcase from me and then moved it over toward the couch. “And I told you, I don’t care about privacy. And I like sleeping with my knees in my face.”

  I giggled again, almost ready to concede the fight, and then my phone rang. I saw his face transform into satisfaction, as if he’d won, and I held up a finger. “To be continued.”

  I reached into my purse and took out my phone. I turned away from him when I saw who was calling: Emma. “Hello?”

  She didn’t respond. Instead, all I heard was a great deal of background noise and something that sounded like a sob.

  “Emma? Are you there?”

  There was more sobbing, and then I heard her take a deep breath. “Chloé?”

  “Yes?”

  “Th-there’s been an accident.” She sobbed again.

  I knew immediately what had happened. In that moment, I think I realized that I’d known before she called—part of me had simply been waiting for this phone call. Something about that car on the highway had seemed familiar, but that wasn’t quite the word. I hadn’t recognized the car, but I’d been drawn to it, as if it mattered somehow, as if it and the driver were connected to me. My ears were ringing, and my legs were giving way. Dimly, I was aware of Jonathan lurching forward to grab me before I hit the ground and helping me over to the couch. The phone had dropped out of my hands onto the floor. Jonathan knelt in front of me and was saying something, but the ringing in my ears drowned out his voice. I saw him look around, desperately, and then he got up and went over to get the phone. I closed my eyes, leaning backward into the couch, the world spinning around me. I couldn’t help remembering that burnt-out wreck. I’d known when I saw it that anyone in it must have been killed.

  She was dead. My Amelia was dead.

  “Chloé! Chloé! Goddamn it, answer me!”

  Jonathan was in front of me when I opened my eyes, his face a mask of fright and worry. He looked relieved to see my eyes, but he still looked frightened, shocked.

  He held the phone out to me. “The woman on the phone—Emma?—she wants to talk to you.”

  I took the phone from him with numb fingers, staring at it blankly for a long moment. I didn’t want to hear what she had to say. If I heard it, I would fall apart—I knew I would. Steeling myself, I put it to my ear again. My voice was stuck in my throat, and it took me a long time to say anything.

  “Emma?” I finally managed to say, my voice hoarse and broken.

  “Chloé, you have to come down here. Please. I need you here.”

  I swallowed again, my throat tight with pain and grief. I couldn’t make myself ask the question, and I didn’t need to ask it. I already knew the answer.

  “Where are you?” I managed.

  “At LSU Hospital. Please hurry.” She choked again on a sob. “I don’t know if I can…please. Just get here as soon as you can.”

  She hung up without saying another word, and I sat there, phone still pressed to my ear.

  Is this what going crazy feels like? I asked myself. Does it feel like the world is falling apart and you’re sitting in the middle of it? Hot tears were falling down my face, almost burning my skin. I could no more stop them than I could stop breathing.

  Jonathan must have realized that the phone call was over, as he came back and crouched in front of me again. He took my phone from my numb fingers and set it on the coffee table. “Chloé? What can I do? Do you need me to get someone? Call someone? Should I call Kate?”

  “I have to get to the hospital,” I told him. I tried to get up, but my legs wouldn’t hold me. He caught me before I fell again and helped me sit down.

  “You’ve had a shock, Chloé. You need to wait until you can walk again.”

  I looked up at his pale face, trying to think of what I could do to convince him. My heart, however, wasn’t in it. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to see her body. If I did, I would break into a thousand pieces.

  “Let me call your aunt. She’ll know what to do.”

  “Don’t!” I said, snatching his arm. He looked surprised, and I let it go, embarrassed. “Please, don’t call her. I couldn’t bear it. I need to get to the hospital, Jonathan, and I need to go alone.”

  “You’re in no shape to walk, let alone drive. At least let me give you a lift.”

  I almost argued with him, but I knew he was probably right. I nodded, and he looked relieved.

  “I’ll get you some water,” he said. “In the meantime, do some deep breathing. I don’t want you passing out on the way.”

  Not long after, we were back in the car, Jonathan relying on his phone to get us there. I’d lost the ability to speak or give directions. I’d already died a little inside.

  We found the emergency room in the usual chaos of a city hospital on a Friday afternoon. When we walked through the door, the sights and sounds of pain and panic immediately accosted us. I tore my eyes away from the carnage, looking around desperately for Emma. Jonathan was still helping me walk, one arm linked with mine. I clutched at him, my fingers white.

  He helped me over to the front counter, and we had to wait for several moments as the woman behind it finished what appeared to be a very unpleasant phone call. She stared at me after she put the phone down, and I couldn’t speak. Both she and Jonathan were looking at me now, but my voice was stuck in my throat. I swallowed several times, desperate, but every time I opened my mouth, nothing came out but a dry click.

  “Chloé!” someone shouted.

  I spun toward the voice and saw Emma. We ran at each other, and I launched myself into her arms, almost wailing. My legs felt weak again, and they buckled a moment later. I pulled her to the floor with me. Almost immediately, Jonathan was there, kneeling next to us. Hi
s hand was on my back, rubbing it, but my focus was on Emma in my arms. Her body was hitching against mine as she sobbed, and I could feel tears coursing down her cheeks. I drew back after a while to meet her eyes, surprised to find her smiling. It took me a long time to understand what she was saying. The ringing in my ears finally stopped enough for me to hear her.

  “Chloé, she’s going to be okay. Do you hear me? She’s all right.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I don’t know how long I was out. Luckily, I didn’t have far to fall or I might have hurt myself. Instead, I simply slumped over right there on the ground in the emergency waiting room. I’m sure I caused a scene, and I felt bad later for giving everyone more work to do, but at the time I couldn’t help it. All I could think of when I opened my eyes were Emma’s last words to me: she was okay. My Amelia was alive and she was okay.

  I was on a bed surrounded by blue hospital curtains. I still wore my dress from earlier, but someone had removed my shoes. I’d been left alone, but when I sat up, I could see that they’d hooked up an IV in my hand while I was out. My head felt muddled and painful, and my heart was racing.

  “Hello?” I called out. “Is anyone there?”

  A moment later a nurse moved one of the curtains aside and came in. Her face was stern and blank.

  “You’re awake,” she said. She came over and took my free hand, checking my pulse against her watch. After a moment she said, “Your heart rate is still very fast.”

  “Where are my friends? The ones I came in with? Can you go get them?”

  She shook her head. “We’re crowded back here already, as you can see. We don’t need extra bodies.”

  “When can I get out of here?”

  “The doctor will be with you shortly, and she’ll let you know.” She made a quick note on my chart before leaving and closed the curtain again behind her.

  I lay back, trying to calm down, but it was impossible. The thought that Amelia was nearby somewhere didn’t help at all. I decided to wait ten minutes before doing something, but I barely made it five. Finally, I swung my legs off the side of the bed and stood up. I waited a moment to see if there would be an alarm, but nothing happened. I grabbed the IV pole, wheeled it with me to the far curtain, and pulled it back to peer out. A series of curtained beds surrounded me, and several nurses and doctors were walking around looking harried. I watched and waited, peering in after the staff when they drew back curtains, but I didn’t see Amelia. A doctor spotted me, and I quickly moved back to my bed before she came in. She appeared a moment later, and neither of us said anything about my nosiness.