Page 79 of Hidden Memories

It doesn’t escape me that more people in this town have gotten Theo talking than anywhere else. Back in Los Pinos, Theo’s guard was up all the time. Then again, we mostly went to and from school, training sessions his father wouldset up in sports Theo didn’t want to play, or to his grandfather’s house. I suppose those weren’t exactly comfort zones for Theo.

Arthur is intuitive enough to have our first painting assignment be a bug of our choice. Arthur spends just about all of the hour with Theo who couldn’t have picked a more complicated bug—an imperial turquoise beetle. He beams at Theo with enthusiasm, his joy so unfiltered, so effortless, that for a second, I remember when Santi believed in me like that.

I swallow hard, pushing the thought down, but it’s already there, pressing at the edges of my mind. Santi used to admire my sketches the same way, tracing his fingers over the sketched lines like they were something sacred.

For years, I told myself that must have been just youthful infatuation, that he probably doesn’t even remember.

I shake my head of it all, grounding myself with a brushstroke and stolen glances at Theo. My son is so relaxed in this town. I suppose Arthur does have a sort of childish nature about him, he’s very unassuming, and he tends to like to talk about gross things just like my ten-year-old.

I decide to paint a beetle, too, and challenge myself with color and shading, testing how rusty I am by choosing a one-colored Golden Jewel Scarab. The time goes by like an out-of-body experience. In my concentration on texture, hues, and shading, I forget myself and everything around me. When Arthur appears by my side, I can’t believe the time is up.

“Wow, Kat! This is… I’m speechless.” Arthur crosses his arms, chin in one hand, contemplating my work.

Theo comes over, and his jaw drops open.

Arthur asks, “Are you a savant or something?”

My cheeks heat up. “I used to do a lot of art when I was younger. And went to college for a bit to study.”

“What? Why didn’t you say? You’re more qualified to teach your son than I am!” His praise is kind and sweet.

Theo stares at my canvas as if seeing me for the first time. “Mom…” he finally says, almost breathless. “This is amazing. Why didn’t you ever paint before?”

I open my mouth, but no words come. Because how do I explain that I did? That I used to fill sketchbooks and canvases with color, with dreams, with pieces of myself? That I let someone else take it from me? That I let myself forget?

I simply shrug, but Theo’s eyes search mine. In his crystal blues, I see it. He knows why. His father. Like he just tasted something sour, his face pinches together and a quiet anger settles over him.

He takes my hand. “You should do it more now.”

Theo is so goddamn strong in a way I wish he didn’t have to be. Still, his words weave around me like a cocoon, the very beginning of my metamorphosis.

My heart bursts with how much my son wants for my happiness. I wish he never had to think about me or worry about me, but I know he has. For as grumpy a kid as he can be, he has the most gentle, considerate caring inside.

“Theo is right!” Arthur exclaims.

But I can’t afford any paint. Canvases. Now isn’t the time.

Arthur caps an acrylic paint tube. “You can come here any time you want. And you, too, Theo. The woods are full of tiny creatures if you don’t want to paint.”

It’s a wonderful offer.

He wipes his hand on his pants. “Kat, maybe you want to get involved in something with me that I’m pitching atthe next Town Hall? I hope to provide an art class in Echo Valley for some of the older folks who don’t get out much. Our nearest community center is Mount Hamilton, and it’s too far for most. Maybe we could get funding for supplies at the next Town Hall meeting together! We could host it upstairs at Heritage…”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be able to afford any of this without the Mendezes and Linda and Natalie from Café Luna letting me sell my paintings there.” Arthur gets more serious. “You know, you could put some paintings up. This bug is special. And I don’t know how those gals attract buyers to the café, but I’ve sold out every collection! You definitely would, too.”

The joy within Arthur is next level. The man bursts with excitement and generosity. He’s not afraid to give up space for my work next to his. It’s selfless.

It would be fun to do a project like this with Arthur and give back to the town. I think back to Julia’s neighbor, Chris Chen. I’d love to knock on his door and invite him to an afternoon out.

Arthur’s mind seems to be reeling at a hundred miles per hour. “Maybe if it goes well with this art class, we could do them in other places, too. I’ve always wanted to bring the joy of art to people. I was so excited when Julia asked me to meet with you two. It was meant to be…”

My heart leaps with excitement. Maybe this could be my new job. My new life? Working at a lovely tack and feed shop where my son loves to go, hosting senior art classes… it could be the flexibility and maybe just enough money for us.

This is the moment where I realize… I want us to stay here. This is where I want Theo to grow up. It’s a true community.

I glance around Arthur’s studio, soft golden light spills through high windows. Theo stands beside another new pal, chattering about beetles, completely at ease. And for the first time in years, something in my chest loosens.

This is what I want.

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