Page 18 of Painting Celia

Look at her, wearing some brown thing that blended right into the wall. She’d picked the one chair that avoided the yellow light spilling from the pendant above the table. Her turned-down face was worn, shadows under her eyes and lines framing her mouth.

She’d seemed interested in painting that first night but hadn’t come out since. Was she sick, maybe?

Kelsey fluttered up, claiming the last chair and littering her keys, phone, and purse across the table. Why did women always carry so much? She brightened the table, though, her cream blouse and honey-colored hair giving the golden pendant something to light up.

For a second, the colors swam before León’s eyes. Kelsey in yellow, the little lamp in her orbit, matching her glow. Trevor and Andrew to the right, blue and navy shirts pooling together in cool contrast to the overwhelming red brick background. And Celia, sepia, fading into the brick and wood.

Andrew twirled a finger above his head, signaling a round for the table to a server beyond the two women. Kelsey turned to specify a ginger ale, loudly, and the moment of colors faded.

“Is Charlie coming?” Trevor asked as Kelsey turned back.

“Ugh, no,” she said with a grimace.

“You two broke up again?” Andrew asked.

She shrugged. “Probably. Let’s talk about something else.”

A gleam lit Andrew’s face as he leaned in under the pendant. “I got my piece for the exhibition fired. No cracks in her.” He winked at Celia for some reason.

“Her?” Kelsey asked.

“A nude torso, female, about two feet high.” Andrew’s hands raised to inscribe the height and curves. “The glaze came out beautifully too. Bronzes and greens, just like our Celia.”

Ah! León looked Celia over quickly. Bronze, yes, her hair and skin had that burnished coppery light, then the olive undertones…good eye, Andrew.

Celia’s shadowed face turned to the light of the table. “The figurine I posed for? I thought you were making a small one, like….” She raised a hand above the table about half a foot.

“The studies were smaller,” Andrew said. “I needed to work up to the big piece. Good thing the firing went well. I couldn’t do another in five weeks.”

“That reminds me, León,” Trevor said, leaning over Andrew. “I called the gallery, the one holding the exhibition next month. They said to bring you in to talk about showing in it.”

León jumped out of his chair, nearly knocking a tray of drinks from the approaching server’s grasp. He could have leapt on the table and crowed.

“Ha, yes!” He could sell his work at an exhibition!

Sparkling glasses, clear and clinking with ice, were set down by the server in front of all but Kelsey. The alcohol smell was unpleasantly strong, with more citrus and pine.

“What did you order?” León asked, sitting back down.

“Gin,” Andrew said. “That’s what they serve here. It’s a gin bar.” Trevor and Andrew grinned as León wrinkled his nose. “You’re what, thirty-five? It’s time to acquire some grown-up tastes. Like decent alcohol.”

“Blue cheese,” Trevor offered. “Sashimi.”

Kelsey leaned in. “Oysters.”

“No shellfish,” Celia warned from her corner.

Andrew laughed. “No shellfish!”

“I eat blue cheese,” León said.

Kelsey tittered into her soda, setting it down with a light slosh. Andrew swirled his glass, the tinkling ice louder in the conversation’s lull.

“León,” Trevor said as he leaned back, “tell us how you and Andrew met.”

“Ah.” León lightly drummed fingers on the table as he raised his glass for a sip, eyeing Andrew over the rim. Andrew smirked back. “We met in art school. He stole my girl.”

Andrew shrugged as his friends chuckled.

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