by Sofia Tate
A tray of steaming food sits on the kitchen counter. Emilia is rushing around, putting on her coat while grabbing a piece of paper from a magnetic notepad on the fridge.
She turns around and sees me, her shoulders dropping in relief. “Oh, thank God you’re here. I’m so late for a doctor’s appointment and I had to get Grayson’s lunch tray ready. I need you to take it to him, all right? I’ll be back in a few hours. You can go home after you give it to him. I checked over everything, and there’s nothing that needs to be done.”
“But what—”
Before I can even manage to finish my question, Emilia flies past me out the front door.
I stare at the tray, knowing I should get it out to him before it gets cold.
Leaving my purse on the counter, I heave the tray into my hands. Approaching the door leading to the passageway, I realize I need to open it first before walking through with the tray.
I look out, finding a well-lit concrete tunnel. The hallway is wide and long, with a side table to the right just inside the doorway.
I pick up the tray and carefully walk it through, laying it down on the table. I shut the door firmly behind me. My steps echo down the hallway, wondering if he can hear me approaching.
I reach the end of the way, managing to hold onto the tray while giving two hard knocks to the wood door before me.
The door swings open, revealing Grayson. He’s wearing a white T-shirt covered in streaks of clay and torn jeans, and his feet are bare. His brown eyes turn soft and widen at the sight of me.
“Oh, hello. I was expecting Emilia.”
“She asked me to bring your lunch. She was running late for a doctor’s appointment.”
His eyebrows rise. “Of course. I completely forgot. Please come in.”
I step into the studio cautiously. I can see the next sculpture he’s working on. Something short and standing on a pedestal.
“Lily.”
I shake my head. “Forgive me. I was just looking at what you’re working on now.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
I avert my eyes from the clay. “I’m sorry.”
“No harm done,” he reassures me. “I’m just very sensitive about my work. You can put the tray down on the desk.”
I do as he says. “Speaking of work, how is your portfolio coming along?” he asks with my back to him.
I spin around. “It’s coming along slowly, but I’m enjoying myself.”
He smiles at me. “That’s wonderful. You wouldn’t by chance have your portfolio with you?”
My body warms from his question. I can’t stop grinning. “I do, actually. It’s in my car.”
“I’d love to see it after I finish lunch.”
“You can call me on the house phone when you’re finished and—”
He waves his hand at me. “No, no. Don’t be silly. I’ll bring the tray in myself. You can show it to me then.”
I nod. “Okay. I’ll get it from my car in the meantime.”
I reach the door, my hand on the doorknob, when a thought strikes me.
When I turn around to face him, he’s sitting at his desk, about to tuck into the meal.
“Grayson, may I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
He looks at me curiously. “Go on.”
“Have you…do you…I mean…”
“Just ask, Lily.”
“Do you need more than art to make you happy?”
“I’m perfectly content with my life.”
“‘Content’ isn’t the same as happy. I understand what you mean, but hiding away in your studio on this crumbling estate doesn’t exactly help you,” I counter.
I dare myself to look directly at Grayson, fearing the fury I expect to see in his eyes. Instead, a flash of amusement crosses his face. “Come again?”
My tongue tangles in my mouth as I attempt to form something more mature to say. “I…I…oh, hell.” I stop short when a deep laugh rumbles from his throat. My eyes widen in surprise.
He lifts his hand to me, palm facing out. “Continue, please.”
My shoulders relax from the amused sound of his voice. I clear my throat. “I meant to say that you need to open up to people and learn to trust them if you ever want something good to happen in your life. Surely you need more than your art to make you happy.”
I shut my eyes.
Too far. I went too far.
When I open my eyes again, he is standing over me. My heart starts pounding inside my chest as his eyes sear into me. He remains resolutely silent.
Leave. Move your damn feet. Leave now.
“I should go. Eat before it gets cold. I’ll go get my portfolio.”
I rush out the door, not even thinking once of looking back.
Once I reach the kitchen, I grip the counter to calm myself, shaking my head.
Fuck. Why did I say all that? I have no right…
The sound of my cell ringing in my pocket jolts me from my thoughts. Reed’s name is on the caller ID.
“Hi. Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Look, I know we’re taking a break, but I had an idea.”
I can’t help but be curious. “What?”
“I thought maybe we could recreate where we first met, our date, something like that.”
I pause, wondering if he’s being sincere.
“Look, I know I’ve been a complete shit to you, and I think we need to remind ourselves why we fell in love in the first place.”
Before I can say something, he stops me. “Lily, I miss you and I love you.”
My eyes shut from the power of his words.
Oh, fuck it. I need to try.
“Okay.”
“I’ll pick you up tonight at seven.”
I nod my head. “I’ll see you then.”
* * *
Grayson
“Surely you need more than your art to make you happy.”
That’s all I could think about as I ate my lunch, and on the short trek to the kitchen with the tray.
Nobody’s ever dared to speak to me like that before. But then, she was right. Nobody could speak to me like that because I’ve never left my crumbling estate. She was right about that, too. It is crumbling because I never cared before if the walls of my home fell around me. Who would care?
When I enter the kitchen carrying the tray, Lily is standing at the sink. She turns to me. “Just bring it over. I’ll take care of the dishes while I’m here. My portfolio’s on the table.”
She looks up at me with a quick grin, then takes the dishes and cutlery from the tray. I throw away my used napkin and put away the tray and salt and pepper shakers.
On the table is a zippered black leather portfolio. I sit down and slowly unzip the binder. Behind me, the water at the sink stops running, and a minute later Lily settles next to me.
I open the portfolio, coming face to face with the first picture—a close-up of the woman in The Lovers.
“I took more,” she says nervously.
I smile back at her. “Don’t worry. I believe you.”
And she did, because the next set of photos is of an old red barn standing in the snow.
I gasp in wonder. “Wow. That’s beautiful. I love the contrast between the red and white.”
“Thank you. I can’t explain it, but for some reason I’m drawn to contrasting colors.”
“That’s what you should name your first showing: ‘Contrast.’”
“Yeah, right.”
I glance at her, her eyes rolling at me. “‘My first showing,’ Are you kidding? I’m just starting out.”
“I’m not saying it’ll happen next week, but if you keep at it, you’ll never know what is truly possible until you believe in yourself and your craft.”
Her eyebrows narrow at me. “You’re not joking, are you?”
“No. Don’t you think you can do this? Have you shared this with anyone else?”
“Just my best friend Sky. And
Matt at the camera shop.”
“Yes, of course. Matt at the camera shop.” She laughs at my teasing, warming my heart when I hear her reaction. I keep turning the pages, astounded by her talent. “But what about your fiancé?” I ask her.
I look up when she doesn’t reply right away. Her smile has disappeared. “I could never tell him. He wouldn’t understand. He’s not exactly the creative type.”
“That’s too bad. He’s your fiancé, after all.”
She nods silently. “I’d better go. I have some chores to finish.”
As she reaches for the portfolio, my hand brushes her warm one. Our eyes instantly lock on each other, neither of us speaking, our chests rising and falling with each breath. Her soft lips form an O as if she’s expecting something to happen.
I finally break the silence. “Thank you for showing it to me.”
She nods. “Of course. You’re welcome.”
Just as she’s about to walk away, I call out her name. She turns around to face me.
“You can do this, Lily. Don’t stop pursuing what you love. I believe in you.”
She freezes at my words. I open my mouth to say something but her voice stops me. “Thank you, Grayson,” she whispers.
I watch her leave, standing still, absorbing her gratitude, her calm demeanor, her innocence.
When I return to the studio, I get to work, pounding the clay. Again and again.
As much as I try to escape them, her words continue to occupy my mind.
I never leave my home because I fear the outside. To me, the outside is where I lost my parents, how I became the monster I look like today. I fear strangers’ reactions to me when they see me in person.
This is where I find peace. Nobody to judge me. It is only me in this wide open space, living my passion, creating something beautiful.
But she’s right. About everything. Every goddamn thing.
I do need something more than my art to make me happy. But the one thing I want I can never have.
I put down the clay and walk over to my desk. Opening a drawer, I pull out a clean sheet of vellum stationery and an envelope.
Chapter Thirteen
Imiss you. I love you.”
I hadn’t been able to shake off those words since Reed said them to me, small as they were yet potent with meaning. They became my earworm, all in his voice.
Until…
“I believe in you.”
Grayson Shaw, the world famous artist, believes in me and my talent.
Driving home, I know that I could never share any of my art with Reed. I can’t bring it up with him tonight. He would laugh in my face, dismiss it as just a hobby.
Could Grayson see me shiver when our hands touched at the table? When we couldn’t stop looking at each other?
What was that?
I shake my head to clear all my thoughts as I pull into the driveway.
When I walk in, I see a gorgeous bouquet of pink roses on the kitchen table.
“Who are those from?” I ask Mom. She’s standing at the stove stirring something in a deep pot.
“I don’t know. They’re for you. They were on the stoop when I got home.”
I enter the kitchen, taking the card from the bouquet. Thank you. Reed.
I pick up the vase, inhaling the intoxicating scent of the roses, a gift from my fiancé.
He’s trying, too. Give him another chance.
“Who sent them?”
“Reed.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, and he’s taking me out tonight.”
The sound of a metal spoon banging against the counter echoes against the kitchen walls. “Damn it, honey. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“Mom, please don’t give me shit for this. He’s trying, so I have to as well. Just be nice when he gets here, okay?”
“What time?”
“Seven.”
She mumbles something under her breath as I give her a quick peck on the cheek on my way up to my room to change.
* * *
The doorbell rings promptly at seven that night.
“Sweetpea, Prince Charming is here,” my mom shouts up the stairs to me.
I check myself one last time in the mirror—black cowl neck sweater, jeans, black boots. I grab my purse from the bed and head downstairs.
Mom stands at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me, her eyebrows raised.
“Stand down, Mom. Your disdain is showing.”
“This is not a good idea, honey.”
“He’s my fiancé. I have to at least give him another chance.”
She stops shaking her head just as I open the door to let in Reed, who’s also wearing a sweater and jeans, holding a single red rose.
He holds it out to me. “Hey,” he greets me, leaning in to hug me.
“Thanks. Let me get my coat.”
I hand the rose to my mom, who gives me another disapproving look.
“Good evening, Mrs. Moore,” he says to my mom.
“Hello, Reed,” she replies through gritted teeth.
I retrieve my down jacket from the closet along with my scarf, gloves, and hat. Reed helps me into my coat, holding it for me. With his back to her, he can’t see Mom roll her eyes at him.
“Such a gentleman,” she mouths silently to me.
I frown at her remark, then just as quickly slap on a smile when I turn back to Reed.
“We won’t be too late, Mom,” I shout over my shoulder.
“Be safe, please,” she answers back just before shutting the door.
Reed comes to my side of the car first, holding the door open for me.
Once we’re both buckled in, silence permeates the interior. We glance at each other, instantly bursting into peals of laughter.
“Why are we so nervous?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. It’s not like we’ve never done this before.” He stops laughing. “Ready?”
“Yeah, let’s do this. Get ready, Memory Lane.”
Reed turns on the satellite radio to a classic rock station. The voice of John Fogerty comes out of the speakers singing “Bad Moon Rising,” accompanying us as we travel over the Hudson to the Ashby campus.
Great.
So help me if Creedence Clearwater Revival is trying to tell me something…
I mouth along to the radio’s playlist the rest of the way until Reed reaches campus, pulling up in front of his old frat house.
I smile to myself. “You remember.”
“Of course I remember. How could I forget? It was rush week freshman year. You were wearing a cute white lacy top with flowers—”
“Which soon turned a light amber color when you bumped into me and spilled beer all over it. It was ruined,” I conclude his recollection.
“Yeah, sorry about that. But as I recall, I was very apologetic.”
“You were also nervous, trying to get rid of the stain by blotting some wet napkin over it.”
He cringes. “Did you know I was just doing that to cop a feel?”
I tilt my head at him. “Reed, I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“I know, babe. So, next stop…the diner.”
He starts the car again and backs out of the space.
Ok, so far, so good.
Give him a chance.
* * *
Hot grease spills down our fingers onto our arms as we bite into the burger deluxe special at the Cottage Grove Diner.
We glance at each other and grin, fighting the urge to laugh so we can swallow our food.
“I was trying to be so ladylike when I ate one of these on our date.”
Reed smiles at me. “I gotta give you credit for that. Your burger was spilling everywhere, and you dapped at your mouth so daintily with ketchup and grease all over your chin.”
“Not one of my finest moments.”
“I did tell you to order anything on the menu.”
“And I did. I’m definitely not one of those ‘I’ll just have a salad
’ girls. But I’m glad I didn’t turn you off with my eating habits.”
His eyes grow softer. “Lily, I dated enough of those salad girls before I met you. You completely enchanted me that night.”
My shoulders relax at his pronouncement, my entire body warming from his honesty. “That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”
“And it won’t be the last. So, dessert. Hot fudge brownie sundae for two?”
He remembered.
I nod as I wipe my chin, this time not so daintily. “Let’s just try to finish these burgers first.”
* * *
“So…”
“So…”
“This is awkward.”
“It’s definitely like our first date all over again.”
We’re standing at my mom’s front door, staring into each other’s eyes. His gloved hands hold mine.
He clears his throat. “Thank you for tonight, Lily. It really meant a lot to me that you agreed to this.”
“You’re welcome. It meant a lot to me, too. But I can’t…”
He nods his head. “I know. I know. I won’t push. Just move back in when you’re ready. I miss you, that’s all.”
“I know you do. Baby steps, okay?”
“Okay.” He leans in, giving me a short yet soft kiss. “I’ll call you.”
He’s heading to his car when I call out to him. “Hey, Reed.”
He turns back around to me. “Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking…I’d like to take some classes about photography.”
“You mean as a general topic? About famous photographers?”
“No, how to become one. A photographer, that is.”
He comes back, stopping a few inches away from me. “Why in the hell would you want to do something like that?”
I hold my head high. “Because I think I’d be good at it.”
My fiancé shakes his head at me. “Babe, photography is a hobby, not a profession. Stick to teaching. It’s what you’re good at.” He kisses me quickly on the lips. “We’ll talk soon.”
He walks back to his car, giving me a wave before he drives away.
I don’t wave back.
I told Grayson that my fiancé would laugh at me if I told him about my aspirations to become a photographer. Now I almost wish he had laughed at me. That would’ve hurt less.