Page 86 of Everything We Left Behind

“I am. Do you want to paint with me?”

“Sí!”

“Go wash your hands and face. I’ll meet you on the back deck.”

Marc runs to the bathroom.

“Want to paint with us?” James asks.

Julian scrunches his face. “No way, dude.” He slips on his headphones and slides out his phone, back to texting his friends.

Aside from art classes taken during college, James has never painted with anyone. And aside from the Tierney family and the few friends who frequently hung out at Aimee’s house while growing up, no one knew about James’s art. Painting has always been a solitary venture. He never discussed his work, and aside from the canvases the Tierneys hung on their walls, and later on the walls of the home he rented with Aimee, he never displayed his work.

But he had dreamed.

He visualized owning a studio, teaching others what he’d learned and fine-tuned himself. He imagined his paintings on display at galleries. And he dreamed about painting with his own children, where he’d encourage their talent, not repress it.

As Carlos, he achieved those dreams. Would he be able to do it again? He thinks of the retail space in Princeville. Puerto Escondido wasn’t his home and California isn’t his sons’ home. He isn’t sure it’s his home anymore either. Maybe they could start a new life here.

James glances at the house. His gaze roams over the yard and trails to the beach. They already had a foundation in Kauai. Natalya is family. She’s his sons’ aunt and his sister-in-law. She was his lover.

Thoughts lunge to Aimee, his one true love, and he feels that familiar dull pang in his chest, like bumping an old contusion into a sharp corner of furniture. He wonders if he’s capable of falling in love with someone else when he still loves Aimee.

Carlos wanted him to fall for Natalya. He’d spun every phrase and polished each word in that damn journal so that James found himself caring for a woman he had yet to meet face-to-face.But to love her?He doesn’t see how that’s a possibility when Aimee still owns his heart.

He will admit, though, he’d been envious of Carlos for the time spent with Natalya. He’d also been envious of Carlos’s artistic talent, which has kept James from his own art.That’s going to stop today,he thinks. He’s going to paint with the freedom he never allowed himself previously, and he plans to teach his son to do the same. No more hiding.

James sets up the easels in a corner of the lanai and positions two patio chairs in front. He’s arranging paint tubes and brushes when Marc joins him.

“What are you going to paint,papá?”

“We”—James corrects his son, handing him a set of brushes—“are going to paint that palm tree, the tall one in the middle.” He points across the yard.

Marc’s mouth forms a small circle as he takes in a cluster of palms of varying sizes. “I’ve never painted a palm tree before.”

The corner of James’s mouth twitches. Marc painted animals, boats, and trucks. “There’s no better time to start than the present. What do you think?”

“Can I put birds in my trees?”

“Sure, why not. Now, look at the greens in the tree. Which colors should we use?” He gestures at the array of paint tubes.

Marc scratches the tip of his nose. The skin bunches between his brows and for an instant, James sees Raquel in his son. It’s the first physical connection he’s been able to make between his son and the woman he married six years ago. She was beautiful like her sister and James regrets his son will never have the chance to know his mother.

Marc selects the cadmium and sap green tubes and shows them to James.

“Excellent choices.” He claps his son on the shoulder and pulls out a chair.

Marc sits and swings his legs. “Are you going to teach me what you taught the other kids at your studio?”

He glances up from where he’s adding dabs of paint on the palette boards. “I taught kids?”

“Lots of them.”

He doesn’t recall reading anything about kids in Carlos’s workshops, but the news makes him happy. While in the fugue state, James had been a man he could admire: a devoted father, a loyal spouse, and respected individual within the community. Perhaps he can be that way again.

“Yes. I’m going to teach you what I taught them.”

Marc grins broadly and the bond James has started to sense between them strengthens.

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