Page 62 of Eye of the Hurricane
“There’s two,” I tell them. I pull my phone from my pocket and hold up each image. First, the photograph of Katherine fast asleep, peacefully lying there with a yellow hazy beam cast over her.
Next, the painting I made at the campsite. This one also features Katherine, lying in a field of orange and yellow flowers with a golden sunrise behind her. It’s bright, sunshine incarnate. Just like her.
“Wow, they’re gorgeous!” Audi gushes.
“This is seriously some of your best work,” Ravyn agrees.
“Thank you.”
“Seriously?” Roman cuts in, making his way closer to us. “We’re going to ignore that Katherine is at the center of both of these?”
“I was going to, yeah,” Ravyn says with a laugh. “I know he knows,” she says, pointing a finger at me.
“Have you considered just painting her again? It seems to be your strong suit,” Audra suggests.
“I can’t make her my entire portfolio.”
“Okay… What about things that remind you of her?”
Clear blue skiesmelted into a burning sunset and now into a glittering navy sky. I haven’t stepped away from the easel aside from Ravyn and Audra forcing me to step away to eat.
What was a blank canvas is now rippling waves lathered in golden bands of a setting sun. The deep blue waves haveshiny yellow caps on them. There’s something inherently serene about the painting.
Roman and Audra’s house is perfect for looking over the ocean while I paint. Although, I can think of quieter places to paint. That’s mostly Ravyn’s fault, though. She’s gone through the many phases of watching not-so-quietly over my shoulder, blaring music while she relaxes on a lounger, begging me to get in the pool, and telling Audra to force me to get in. She’s truly like the sister I never had. Her and Audra both.
Now Audra, Roman, and Ravyn are all inside watching some movie. They asked if I wanted to join them but I was too focused on finishing my work, not wanting to lose my flow.
Now finished, I get out my phone and call Katherine. The line rings for so long I think she’s not going to answer. But at the last second, she does.
“Hello?”
Her voice is low and worn. It’s clear to me immediately that something is wrong. It’s all I’ve got not to jump in my car and drive to her right away. It has me standing to pace the deck as we speak.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
There’s a heavy sigh before she speaks.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Do you want me to stop by?” I offer.
There’s a shake in her breath. The cool ocean breeze whips past me, causing me to shiver.
“I don’t have time,” she says, voice wobbling. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know this isn’t like her. I know I don’t fucking like it.
“I’ll be in and out,” I offer.
Several beats of silence pass before she finally speaks again.
“I think…” she trails off and takes a gulp of air. “I think we need space.” It’s a knife to the chest. It shouldn’t be. This is fake. So why does this feel like a very real breakup?
For a moment, I’m sucked into a whirlwind of racing thoughts and a million questions. It takes me a second to get my feet back on the ground to be able to focus on the call.
“What’s going on?” I ask. Because things have been good. Perfect, even. This doesn’t make any sense.
“Ares, I really don’t want to talk about it. I just want space. Can I have space?” she asks, sounding exhausted.
The sound of strain in her voice tugs at the strings of my heart.
