Page 92 of Daydream

I’m captivated by how the artist has shown her laughing; I feel like I’m intruding on a private moment.

The other woman has rich brown skin and long reddish-brown hair braided down to her chest, where it turns into perfectly identical curls. Her bone structure feels familiar, like I’ve met her before. The part of her outfit I can see is the softest shade of buttercup yellow, but the thing I can’t take my eyes off of is her smile.

It’s mesmerizing, and even as someone with no knowledge of art, I can tell the time and care that’s gone into this piece. Someone who loves these women painted this; I’m sure of it.

Beneath the name of the painting is a much smaller rectangular plaque with black letters sitting on a white background.

Two Women in Love Henry Turner

“You painted this?” I’m trying not to let the shock show on my face, since it feels like I spend a lot of time with my mouth hangingopen around this man. “Henry, it’s stunning. Are they your moms?”

He nods. “I’m glad you like it. Okay, we can go now,” he says, placing his hand on my waist.

“Wait!” I whisper, twisting to face him. “You’re showing me your art, Henry.”

“Why are you telling me like I didn’t organize this?”

“Because this is monumental for me. You don’t like people looking at your work and you’re voluntarily showing me work that isn’t of me or on me. Can you understand how special that makes me feel?”

“You are special, Halle,” he says, leaning forward to kiss my forehead.

“Please tell me about the painting, Henry. When did you do it? It must have taken hours. Where is it?”

“I did it during summer break. Russ was working at a summer camp; Nate, JJ, and Joe all moved away; Robbie was with Lola and visiting his parents. I had a lot of free time. It was on their anniversary vacation to Greece last year. They borrowed my camera for the trip, and I found it when I was looking for something else. They look so happy in the photo. I decided I wanted to paint it.”

“What do they think of it?”

“Wow, you’re asking a lot of questions tonight. They haven’t seen it yet. I forgot to tell them I’d submitted it. They both have some vacation time for Christmas, so I’ll ask if they want to see it one of those days I’m home.”

“They’re going to want to see it, Henry. They’re definitely going to want to. I’m so proud of you, and I’m so honored that you’ve shared it with me. Do you want me to take your picture with it or something? This is so special. I feel like we need to commemorate it somehow.”

Henry looks down at me like I have three heads. “I’m good.”

“Don’t you want a picture to show people? Or to remember it?”Short of picking him up and putting him next to the painting, Iwillconvince him.

“If people want to see it, they can come here. It’s an art gallery,” he says calmly. People pass by us, not stopping to pay attention to the two people standing face to face, debating with each other. “I don’t care about these hypothetical people. I wanted to show you and I have.”

“But I want the experience of taking your picture next to your beautiful artwork,” I say, definitely pouting. Childish, but hopefully effective.

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a smirk. “I’m too busy to take a picture.” He lifts both of his shoulders and tilts his head, giving me a look that says “Waddaya gonna do?”

“You’re too busy?” I repeat.

“Number one in the Henry and Halle code of conduct rule book: we have to be honest about how busy we are.”

“You’re—” God, he’s smiling really big now. “Insufferable.”

“How about we compromise?” Both of his hands find my waist and my pulse ping-pongs around my body as he walks me backward slowly. There’s no sound except my feet hitting the floor and our breathing. When I sense the wall behind me he stops moving, letting go of me to take a few steps back himself. He pulls his cell phone from his pocket and holds it up. “I’ll take your picture with it.”

“You’re joking.”

“If you want this picture to turn out nice, I recommend you stop talking and start smiling, because you look possessed in that last one.”

“You’re rid—”

“Oops, there’s another one.”

“Fine!” I snap, smiling next to his painting.

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