Page 48 of The Singing Trees
“How could I ever let you go?” He looked like he’d just lost everything.
She couldn’t bear to see him this way for much longer. “By loving me that much. I know you do. So let me go ...” It was the hardest thing she’d ever said.
Her words drifted into the air and lingered like the last notes of a lone piano reverberating at the end of a piece. It was sad as all hell, as painful as losing her parents, but she had to be strong. Dammit, she had to.
By the time they returned to Nonna’s house, she was utterly depleted and defeated, a girl so let down by the world and by God.
Standing by his car, he drew in a long breath and let it out audibly, as if he was trying to let out all the pain. Standing only a few feet away, she couldn’t look at him and wished he’d just go. Before her legs gave out on her.
“Take care, Anna,” he finally said, swinging the ax down on the last of their relationship. He’d finally conceded, and it was over.
She forced herself to look at him one more time. Words wouldn’t come, though, as she opened her mouth to speak. It had all been said, and he had to go before she took them all back. She loved him. That was what she wanted to say ... but she couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair. Wasn’t that ironic? She loved him so much that she couldn’t tell him that in this moment.
Finally, tasting the ashes of their love on her tongue, she said, “Goodbye, Thomas.”
He turned and climbed into his car, and her tears spilled even before he’d pulled away. She hid herself from him, though, and walked away, using the last of her strength to climb the stairs.
And then he was gone.
She collapsed into a chair on the porch and cried—cried like she’d cried after losing her parents—cried tears that seemed to pull all the life out of her, like a mortician draining the blood from a body. Her lips shuddered with loss, and she hoped to God she’d made the right decision.
The wind chimes pinged lightly above her head. Was her mother affirming her decision, telling her to get up and keep fighting?
Chapter 16
A GOODBYE TOREMEMBER
The bouts of sadness and loneliness over the next few weeks as she prepared for her move to Portland sent her into a tailspin at times, but she slammed shut the many doors, shielding her gut-wrenching feelings about losing Thomas and Emma from stabbing her.
Staying focused, she painted the image she’d seen of Mary Ann Vecchio kneeling over Jeffrey Miller at Kent State, among others from that awful day. She painted what she’d seen of the Hard Hat Riot and the shootings at Jackson State. Trying to understand both sides of each conflict, she painted the police officers and construction workers too. As hard as she tried, though, she couldn’t get into their heads. How could she possibly understand what they, or anyone else, for that matter, was thinking or feeling? Did she really think she could paint from television images?
Nonna would point at the coverage of these terrible events on the television and say, “This is why you should stay here.”
Annalisa cataloged each image, desperate to paint them, as she replied, “This is exactly why I have to leave, so I can paint things that matter.”
A day after that, Annalisa had slapped her uncle Tony for telling her she better get in the kitchen where she belonged.
How could Annalisa ignore such comments or these horrendous events by staying in the bubble that was the Mills? She didn’t claim to understand politics or have all the facts, but at least she could paint them and attempt to feel what it was like to live in their skin.
On the Friday after the Jackson State shootings, while the family was together, Annalisa asked Nino if he would help her hunt for jobs and apartments in Portland.
“So you finally want to hang out again?” he asked, shoving a forkful of orecchiette into his mouth.
“Hey, you’re the one who kept pushing me to date someone,” she said. “I’m back, though.” As much as she did look forward to reconnecting with Nino, whom she’d ignored for the last few months, it would have been nice to make that drive down to Portland with Thomas, to start their life together. As forcefully as Nino had shoved his pasta into his mouth, Annalisa suppressed the thought. There was no good in wondering what could have been.
“I’m sorry,” she said to Nino. “It’s been a wild few months.”
The next day, he took her down to Portland to hunt for apartments and jobs, and it felt almost surreal that she was finally making this happen.What a long and winding road it has been,she thought. None of the places she could afford with the money she’d saved excited her. The best of the six they’d looked at was owned by a very questionable character who’d made Annalisa feel sick inside. The other apartments were dirty and rat-infested or located a long way from the action. Considering she didn’t own a car, she wanted to be near Congress Street, where she could find constant inspiration.
As far as jobs were concerned, she had no luck finding anything available other than restaurant work. If it came down to it, she would settle for being a server, but she hoped to find something that paid better—or offered some sort of upward trajectory. That way she could afford her art supplies and Sharon Maxwell’s art classes, while starting to save at the same time.
Annalisa thought working at a gallery would be the most perfect opportunity, as she could meet other artists and maybe talk a gallery owner into selling her work, but there weren’t as many galleries in Portland as she’d built up in her head while in the Mills.
She tried Jackie Burton first, because that was whose walls Annalisa wanted her art to adorn. The curator was thrilled to see that she was following through with moving, but she couldn’t offer her a job. Neither could the other galleries Annalisa visited. She didn’t even bother showing them her portfolio because she certainly had not found her voice yet. If anything, her relationship with Thomas had sidetracked her.
After a long and unsuccessful day, Nino drove her back home. Feeling discouraged, she wondered if she could make it in Portland. What if she had to repeat this same drive in a few months, a retreat back to the Mills with her tail between her legs? As the challenges of moving to the city presented themselves, she let doubt fill her soul. It was so easy to have dreams, but to actually make them happen wasn’t always possible. Though she hated to admit it, some of the dream had lost its luster without Thomas. If he’d been there with her, the challenges would have been more fun to navigate.Stay strong,she told herself. Her wound would heal, and he’d fade away, just as she must be drifting from his heart.
By the next morning, she’d pushed her thoughts of Thomas back down into one of the manholes of her mind, and she’d burned all her doubt and was back on track in front of the easel. Nothing ever came easy. If she gave up now, what was the point of any of it?
