Page 39 of This Life and All the Rest
Payton scrolls through some of the images, her eyes wide in awe. I don’t bother looking. I’ve seen them all already.
“Oh my gosh, this is amazing,” Payton says. Lennon shrugs.
“My website design is simple, but the paintings are good,” she says with a laugh. “They don’t pay me to design websites.”
I perk up at that comment.
“You designed the website?”
Lennon’s eyes shoot to me, and she nods.
“Built it from the ground up. Took me almost three weeks and a few gallons of coffee, but I did it.”
I don’t take my eyes off her, but I bite my tongue on the desire to compliment her work. I know about the website. I know every single tab, image, and blog post. But I didn’t realize she built it herself, and I’m surprised. I shouldn’t be. Lennon never did know how to fail at anything.
Casper interrupts my eye contact when he leans into the table conspiratorially and cups one hand over the side of his mouth like he’s about to tell a secret.
“She’s got a commissioned painting for a popular British popstar,” Casper mock-whispers, and Payton gasps.
“Who?” Payton shouts, and Lennon shrugs coyly before taking a sip of her drink.
“She’s sworn to secrecy,” Casper explains. “See? She’s famous.”
“That’s so cool!” Payton looks to me with her eyes wide with excitement, then back at Lennon. “How much do you sell these for?”
“Depends on a few things. If it’s a commission, I’ll usually talk with the client to get an idea of what they want, then I price based on size, how long I think it will take, the difficulty level. Stuff like that.”
Lennon sounds so professional, so focused, but there’s an element of excitement behind her words that tells me she loves what she does. Painting is something she’s always been passionate about but could never pursue.
If she had come back from Europe and went to college here like originally planned, she’d have been a finance major. Painting would have remained a hobby she did in secret.
Moments like this, it’s hard for me to be angry that she never came back. I’ve spent four years pissed off that she stayed in Europe. Angry that she backed out of her acceptance at VCU and started art school in London. Pissed off even more when I heard she dropped out of art school and moved to Paris.
But fuck me, right now, I can’t deny that she’s doing exactly what she was meant to do.
How can I fault her for finally being selfish? I should be happy for her, but I can’t do that either.
“What was the most you ever sold one for?” Casper chimes in, and I send him a glare. He just grins like a fucking idiot.
“Twelve grand,” Lennon says proudly. Payton whistles.
“Whoa. Good job.”
Lennon and Casper laugh at Payton’s awestruck behavior, then Payton sits up taller in her seat and grins at me.
“Did you know that Macon se—”
“Stay with me,” I say quickly, cutting Payton off.
Casper chokes on his drink and Lennon looks shocked.
“Excuse me?” she says, then shakes her head. “No, no way.”
“Why not?” Casper interjects. “Macon has loads of space. No cats. And he’s just a few blocks from here.”
“No,” Lennon says again. “If I can’t stay at my friend’s, I’ll get a hotel.”
“The closest hotel is, like, forty-five minutes away,” Payton says sweetly, and I nod.
