Page 1 of Painting Celia

One

Selfish? Really?

“We’ll have to talk later, Mom.” Celia ended the phone call, cutting off her mother mid-objection.

Her fingers trembled, clenching the phone tightly. Nothing made those calls better. Hanging up was getting easier with practice, at least.

What more could she do? She bankrolled her mother’s comfortable life and tried to act the part of attentive daughter. It wasn’t enough. There was always a new need.

Today’s request was a first. Mother wanted her to pay for two friends to join her on a cruise. A cruise! She’d already told her friends it was no problem. Celia explained it was indeed a problem, then braced for the browbeating.

Mom did her shouting, and Celia ended the call once the name-calling started. The usual.

She needed to do something productive, get her mind off it.

A spot of grease on the gas range caught her eye and Celia whisked across the kitchen. Heat from the oven had baked it on, but a hard scrubbing won out. The timer showed nearly two hours to go on the ribs slowly roasting inside. Celia watched the number tick down one minute, then two.

But you can afford it, her mother’s voice echoed. How can you be so selfish, Celia Rose?

Right. Snap out of it!

Was there anything else to clean before Andrew and the rest showed up tonight? A couch pillow at the wrong angle, a teacup to put away, or…a scan of her vast white living space put an end to that hope. Not one item out of place. Now even the kitchen was spotless.

She hated that moment each day when she ran out of jobs. Even worse was when it coincided with one of her mother’s calls.

Nothing left for her inside, Celia decided to swim. The backyard pool was convenient when all else failed, and gainful exercise could use up a whole hour.

Wrapping her wavy hair into a tawny topknot, Celia slipped out the sliding glass door and padded down the sloped lawn to her pool house. Glossy dust-free shelves stood laden with folded towels and baskets of sunscreen. No tasks to do here either.

She stripped down and draped her clothes on the neat daybed, checking the distant view of downtown Los Angeles through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The air was less smoky today. Wildfire season seemed to be coming to a close. Thank goodness for autumn.

The sun-blocking film on the pool house windows created a faintly-purpled mirror in which she could see herself applying sunscreen.

Not terrible for just past forty. The daily laps were staving off the inevitable sag.

Maybe a cruise would distract her mother from calling so often?

Stop thinking about it! Mother would have to accept ‘no’ for once.

Celia stepped from the pool house onto the blazing flagstone pool surround, nude but dutifully protected from the baking sun. Palm trees and pricey greenery hid her yard from the houses perched on either side. Up here in the canyon, everyone could afford to face the city view and not their neighbors.

The soles of her feet burned, and tickles scampered over her skin as the sun dried the fine hairs on her body. This final summer heatwave was lingering. Celia would rather swim at night in the cool darkness, but she didn’t get to pick when she needed refuge.

She drew a deep breath.

No thinking about her mother, no thinking about money, no thinking of the hours left to fill today. No thinking at all.

With a grace from long practice, Celia dove into distraction.

•••

León stood to pace again, covering the same fifteen feet of Andrew’s dim apartment. He ran out of space, again, at the window overlooking the courtyard below. The glass blazed with a painful afternoon glare. The shadowed pool, two floors down, could barely be seen.

His own orange-washed reflection looked back at him, clearer than anything outside. Arms crossed, brow furrowed—his father would call him sulky if he saw him now. ¡Tranquilo! Relax.

León leaned into the reflection, shielding his eyes and pressing his forehead to the hot glass. The sun would slip behind the rooftop any minute now.

The pool below was deserted and still. Who would swim in a courtyard that got shade all afternoon? The dusky water reflected the terra cotta walls in a wonderful mix of colors, blues and oranges blending into a surprising purple. He could match that with a mix of rose violet paint, primary cyan, a little white.

---