Page 45 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

I sit on the grass at the dog park, finishing the painting I started of Lucy in what seems like a lifetime ago now.

I paint the background of the trees and deepen the greens of the grass.

Painting on the grass is one of the best feelings in the world because if you get paint on your fingers, you just wipe them off right there on the earth. It’s like a present from Mother Nature.

Lucy runs back and forth across the park, her mouth frothy and her eyes wild, her ears flapping backward in the wind as another dog happily chases her and they play bow to each other. I tear up thinking about the way Julie just threw her away.

Not very happy with the outcome of this painting, I prop the canvas up against the tree I’m under and pull another out of my bag to start anew.

Maybe if I do a really good job of painting Lucy for Chris, he’ll see what good news this really is.

I start by sketching her face, her soft eyes filled with love that look as though she’s never once suffered, and the nose that twitches at the slightest smell.

I paint her head titled at an angle, the way she looks when I answer the phone and she listens to my conversation. I think about painting her in technicolor, to show what she has added to my life and what joy she can still bring to Chris.

“Hey, there, working on another?”

I look up and see the man I met briefly at the dog park before.

Scott stands over me, blocking the sun directly with his body. He casts a long shadow over me that gives me a chill in the otherwise sunny spot.

“I’m sorry?”

“You were painting the last time I saw you here, too. Looks like you’ve started another.”

“Oh.” I look down. “Yeah.” I shade my eyes with my hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Can I sit?”

“Sure.” I shrug.

Scott sits down, a tangle of legs and arms. “You left kind of quick last time. Wasn’t sure if I upset you for some reason.”

“Nah,” I say, continuing to work on my artwork. “I was just done already. Bad timing.”

“Ah.” Scott points over at our dogs together.

They’re jumping and biting at each other’s necks, their tails wagging wildly. “Looks like they like each other.”

“Lucy likes everyone,” I respond honestly.

“Ouch. Not even gonna let me feel special for a second?” I look up at him to see if he’s serious and he raises his eyebrows at me, a sideways small across his lips.

“Do you normally only need a second?” I ask, and he returns my question with a grin.

Is this flirting? Why don’t I feel nervous? Was all that was necessary for to be able to talk to men was to lose my virginity?

“Wooooowww.” He drags the word out, throwing his head back to laugh. “You’re a cruel one, Hannah.”

I smile politely, satisfied with the way I responded, satisfied with my ability to talk to a man and make him laugh, and I go back to my sketch as I hide a grin into my canvas.

Once I realize I’ve lost the light, I stand up, my bones seeming to creak with the effort.

Scott looks up at me and protest, “Nooo, don’t go.”

“Ah, but I…,” I turn my painting around, “I’ve lost the light for the day.”

“Well, so? That doesn’t mean you have to leave. Our girls are still having so much fun.”

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