Page 9 of All That We Are Together

“Nothing. It just couldn’t be,” I replied curtly.

Sam seemed to sympathize and waited without any more questions until I got up and went to pay the check. Afterward we walked silently to the gallery, both of us focused on our respective tasks. Sam knocked at my office door later, when it was almost closing time.

“Hey. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. Anyway, I’m leaving. You need anything?”

“No. Lock the door on your way out. I’m going to stay a while longer.”

“Sure.” She passed by me, ran her hand through my hair as though I was one of her little boys, and kissed me on the cheek, making me grumble.

I rubbed my face, reached in my drawer, and took out the reading glasses I had started to need when I was tired to continue looking over some interesting CVs Hans had sent me. It was nighttime when I left. I thought about going to my brother’s, because I wasn’t in the mood to have dinner alone. I liked the idea of spending time with him and Emily and the kids, away from the silence. But I changed my mind and headed home.

I made a sandwich and went onto the porch to smoke. Without music. Without any desire to read. Without stars in the cloudy sky. Without her.

I should have stopped missing her by now… I should have…

December

_____

(SUMMER, AUSTRALIA)

9

Leah

“Come on, let me go with you. I want to see.”

Landon’s adorable gaze was pushing me, but I refused. I couldn’t let him into the attic, into my studio. I didn’t want to, to tell the truth. The idea of him invading my space terrified me, because that place was mine alone. Somehow, I could open my heart there; I didn’t have to hide anything. And there was no one I trusted enough to let them just burst in, not even my brother.

“It would be weird,” I said. “You don’t get it…”

“Then explain it to me again.” He smiled.

“It’s just…it’s too personal.”

“More personal than sharing a bed with someone?”

Yeah, much more, I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue.

“That’s not it, Landon. It’s just verymine, that’s all.”

“And I want to be a part of everything that’s yours.”

I felt a slight pressure in my chest. He seemed to realize he was stressing me out and took a step back before kissing me softly.

“It’s fine, sorry. Can I see you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll call when I’m done.”

I walked to the studio in a slight daze, not even noticing all that was around me. I climbed the old staircase two steps at a time, and when I reached the attic, a sensation of tranquility filled me. The scent of paint. The canvases staring back at me. The creak of the wood floor. I put on my smock and opened the little window, the one that always got stuck before finally lurching upward.

I looked back at that patch of sea bathed in sunlight on the canvas, thinking that maybe the picture didn’t do the place justice, or not just the place, but everything it meant to me, that stretch of beach where I put myself back together piece by piece before breaking apart again. Luckily, the second time it happened was different. I wasn’t torn into little pieces. I just broke in two. Quick and clean: that’s what Axel did to me.

I grabbed my palette and mixed colors, taking time to pick up a brush. I inhaled deeply and painted and painted until my stomach growled and I decided to go downstairs and grab one of the chicken empanadas they made at the café on the corner. Once I was back, I sat in the armchair to eat it, staring at the painting, the colors, the way the light slipped down toward the water…

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