Page 6 of If My Wishes Came True
“Vanessa,” says the younger one, holding out her hand. “And this is my Tati Marie.”
“Tati?” I ask.
“It means aunt, in Haitian Creole. I was born in Port-au-Prince,” Marie says with a grin as bright as her niece’s. “Welcome to class. I’m so happy you’re here,” she continues, then hugs me as tightly as if I were family.
It nearly brings tears to my eyes. My own parents don’t hug me like this. Marie’s warmth is rare and genuine, and I feel like I could melt in her arms. I make sure to pull away before I do.
“How long have you been teaching?” I ask her.
She looks at me with glimmering eyes. “I’ve been painting all my life. But today is my first day teaching.”
“Tati just retired from a long and boring career at the bank,” Vanessa chimes in with a laugh. “This is an exciting day for her.”
“Congratulations, Marie!” I turn back to Vanessa. “And are you her assistant?”
She shakes her head, smiling. “Not me—I can barely draw a stick figure. I moved here from New York recently, and I thought it’d be fun to take Tati Marie’s class so we could spend more time together.”
“She works too much,” Marie says with a frown. “Never comes over for dinner.”
“I’m sorry, Tati…but it won’t always be this bad,” Vanessa says to her aunt before turning to me. “I’m the new director at a refugee resettlement agency, and our assistant director is on maternity leave, so there’s a lot on my plate right now.”
“Vanessa’s been in Chicago for six months and doesn’t have a single friend,” Marie tells me, her brow creased with concern. “Not to mention a man.”
I look at Vanessa and can’t imagine she isn’t single by choice. She’s absolutely stunning. Tall and statuesque—she has to be 5′9″ or 5′10″. She towers over my barely 5′4″ frame. Her eyes are light brown, with flecks of gold that match her honey-colored skin. Her hair is in long braids, which she’s wearing half-up. She has on faded jeans and a t-shirt, and looks like a supermodel.
“Idohave friends, Tati!” Vanessa tells her aunt. “There’s you…”
“See what I mean?” Marie says to me with one eyebrow raised.
“And Denise—that’s my sister,” Vanessa explains to me. “Oh, wait—and then there’s Sam!”
Marie’s eyes widen. “What? Who’s Sam? Are you dating someone? A boyfriend?”
Vanessa giggles. “No, Tati, Sam’s a woman. She’s a friend from New York, but she moved here over the summer. She’s a philosophy professor now, at Northwestern. But I haven’t seen her yet, since we’ve both been busy settling into our new jobs.”
“I just moved here too, from LA. And I’ll be honest, I haven’t made a ton of friends in Chicago either,” I admit.
“Then it’s settled,” Marie says to her niece. “You’re going to bring Jenna and Sam to my birthday party tomorrow night.”
Vanessa’s eyes light up. “Perfect! We’re celebrating at my sister’s restaurant. Have you tried Haitian food before, Jenna?”
I shake my head, smiling. “I haven’t. But are you sure you want me to come? It’s a family party, and I don’t want to intrude?—”
“Nonsense,” Marie says sternly, but there’s still warmth in her words. “The more the merrier.”
“That’s very generous, thank you,” I say as a few more students start trickling into the room.
“Let’s grab easels next to each other,” Vanessa says,linking her arm to mine like we’ve been best friends forever. I’ve known her for ten minutes, but somehow it already feels that way.
Once everyone in the class has gotten settled, Marie begins. “As you may have guessed, we’re going to work on self-portraits today—which is why I asked everyone to bring a photograph.”
Just hearing her words wakes up something inside me I thought I’d never feel again. I’m three-year-old Jenna standing at my brand-new easel for the very first time.
I have to bite my lip to contain my excitement.
After a brief tutorial from Marie on mixing colors to match our unique skin tones, we gather our supplies, and she unleashes us. The moment I sweep my paint-dipped brush over the smooth, stretched canvas, a sense of calm takes over me—likefinallysomething in my life feels right.
I want my eyes to be the focus of my self-portrait, so I paint them larger than life. I spend a lot of time getting the olive-green color just right, and the specks of white from the light reflected in them. Above my eyes are a hint of my eyebrows, and below are my pink cheeks, my sun-kissed nose, and my lips turned up in a smile. I’m in my zone and don’t realize how much time has passed, until I hear Vanessa say something beside me.
