Page 55 of The Version You Hide

I’m only just now realising how often I refer to my father in the past tense, as though I’ve already erased him from my life.

She frowns, turning her sights out the window. When her eyes return to mine, there’s an unmistakeable sadness swirling in their midst. Her throat bobs as she swallows, seemingly thinking over her next question. After a long pause, she finally asks, “And your mother?”

“No idea where she is,” I answer, a bitterness in my tone. I wander toward a set of paintbrushes resting in a jar, plucking one out and absent-mindedly brushing it over my fingers. “I honestly wouldn’t know her if I passed her on the street.”

Her frown deepens. This time when she sniffles, there’s no mistaking it. She’s holding back tears. “Oh, Mackenzie. I’m sorry.”

I force a smile. “It’s not your fault. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“No, of course.” She shakes her head, swiping at her eyes. “I just mean, I’m sorry you had to go through all of that.”

“It’s fine. And I’m fine. I mean, I’m here, right?” I shrug, placing the paintbrush I’ve been fidgeting with back in the jar.

“Yes.” She nods. “You are. And I’m so glad.” She wipes her hands on her apron and moves to a cork board on the other side of the room. She unpins an A5 flyer, returning it to me with shaky hands. “I wanted to show you this.”

“What is it?” I ask, taking the paper.

“Every year, we run an exhibition night here at the studio. It’s a chance for us to showcase the great work we’ve been doing here to the public. Students can offer their art for sale. I’ve seen the kind of work you do, Mackenzie. I think you should join us.”

“This is next month,” I say. “I don’t have anything to show.”

“Come back to the studio,” she says, resting a warm hand on my shoulder. “You can work on something here.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never considered putting my art on display like this. Or selling it.” A nervous laugh leaves me at the thought. “I’m not sure anyone would buy it.”

“Well, you never know until you try.” Grace shrugs. “But your talent is too good to be wasted.”

I nod, taking another look at the flyer. “I guess I could think about it.”

“Take your time. Well not too much time,” she laughs.

“Okay.” I glance down at my watch. “I better start making my way back home. The next bus is in five minutes.”

“Good timing,” she says. “Will I see you again soon, Mackenzie?”

There’s something in her tone that I can’t quite decipher, though it borders on desperation. My interactions with this woman have no doubt been strange. She seems like a highly emotional person which would normally send me running for the hills.

Yet, I do want to see her again. I don’t mind being in her company. I appreciate the sense of peace and calm that being in her presence brings and I like the atmosphere in this studio.

I’ve had fun today. My soul has been nourished.

I understand now what Dylan had been talking about when he’d asked me if I had something I loved to do. Something that I needed like I need air.

“Yeah,” I nod. “You’ll see me again.”

I turn and leave the studio, heading for the bus stop across the road. Only once I’ve reached the bus shelter do I turn around to realise she’s still standing at the window beaming at me. I look down at the exhibition flyer, still clutched within my right hand, then when I look back up, she’s gone.

The bus approaches and I find a seat at the back. As we wind our way down the coastline, I get lost in the view of the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs below. I smile when I think about Betty and May. Those women had been savage today, yet somehow, I’m sure that they’re just the kind of women anyone would be lucky to have in their corner.

Then I think about what Grace said about my talent being too good to waste and for the first time in a long time, I’m instilled with a sense of hope. As though I could handle anything that life throws my way. As though I’m ready for my future.

Something catches my eye in the distance. I squint, holding my hand up to shade the sun from my face. For a second, I think that maybe I’ve imagined it, but then I spot movement in the water. Three dolphins rise from the waves, looping up and then diving back under the surface. Another two spring upward and a wide grin stretches across my face. I can’t wait to tell Dylan about this.

Dylan.

The thought stops me in my tracks. Of all the people in my life I could sit and talk about my day with, Dylan was the one that came to mind first.

It should terrify me. Especially after what happened last night. And I know I could sit here and question that choice. Try to talk myself out of it. But it would be pointless.

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