Page 30 of Game Day

"What are we putting in the reception room?" she asks. Her gaze lowers to the documents we’re reviewing from the planner. My sister’s better at detailed stuff and planning than I am.

"I haven’t even thought about the reception yet.”

Mari pulls up photos of the space on her laptop. "We can bring the flowers from the ceremony inside, put them around the space on the tables here and here." She points. "But it's not going to be enough. Outdoors, there's the backdrop of nature. Here, there's a vast hall that will drown us out."

I rise from my seat and pace my studio, weaving between the neat stacks of white canvas stretched onto frames.

Mari flips through the single stack of completed canvases, pausing on one in particular. "Nova, what's this?"

I peer over her shoulder. There are swooshing lines of pink and purple."Flowers. But in abstract."

"I bet it felt good to make it."

My fingertips tingle with the memory. “It did.”

I’ve been so focused on the wedding and the upcoming season, my art has taken a backseat. But I’ve been experimenting with flower designs lately, and seeing them once more makes me light up with purpose.

Mari retrieves a blank canvas from my collection of them and a fresh jar of water.

"We need to work on decor for the wedding," I point out.

"The bride needs to relax," she counters.

It’s a standoff. Until she grabs a second canvas, setting it up on a spare easel back-to-back with mine.

“Do it with me.” Mari’s dressed for an outing, not for painting.

“You’re really going to paint?” I eye her skeptically. “When was the last time you made something?”

“Probably third grade.” She grins. “I’ll put the drycleaning on the bride’s tab.”

I rummage through my drawer of brushes to find another and hold it out.

We paint facing one another, the easels between us. The rhythm sucks me in, and I lose myself to the colors and the shapes.

When I'm here, it feels as if I'm where I'm supposed to be.There are no one’s expectations, including my own. Nobody to tell me what I should or shouldn’t or can or can’t.

I don't realize what time it is until Mari's phone buzzes and she reaches for it.

"Harlan asking if I'll be home before he leaves. Emily's finished dinner, and he has to go out for a team meeting in an hour."

"Wow. I can't believe we were here for three hours."Outside the window, the sky is dimming with dusk.

"Can I see it?" I ask.

She bites her lip, then motions me over. What I see takes my breath away.

"That's beautiful, Mar," I say, leaning an elbow on her shoulder.

"What about yours?"

I grab my canvas and bring it around, holding it up next to hers. We've used the same shades of purple and pink, and similar brushstrokes.

"They're so similar," she murmurs, hovering a finger over the canvas. "Not that I know what I'm doing."

"You did great.”

"If only decorating the venue was this easy," she says.

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