Page 20 of Love Deep
I let out a small laugh at Rosey’s unexpected turn. She’s fierce, and I love her for it.
“And even if I opened up and told him things I haven’t spoken about in years, even though I just met him, then screw him again. Or maybe don’t screw him.” Rosey laughs, and I feel lighter about the whole goddamn situation.
“It’s fine. I doubt I’ll lay eyes on him again. Honestly, just talking to someone new was fun.”
Rosey sighs. “I’m not sure that’s true. He’ll be around for a while yet. I think you’re such a good match for each other.”
I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t. Rosey’s so sweet to be so invested.
“I’m going to go and find out what my daughter is doing in the studio.”
We say our goodbyes, and I head to the back of Candy Cane.
“Mom!” Riley says excitedly as I step inside the store. “I found some painter’s tape. Can I put this on my canvas and then paint? I figure it will look cool when I pull it off.”
My heart lifts in my chest. There’s nothing better than seeing Riley getting creative. “I think that sounds like a great idea. I might even do the same.”
“Really?” Riley says, beaming at me as I set down my bag.
“Really,” I reassure her. “I think you could make some really creative effects with that.”
She nods. “That’s what I thought.”
She pulls out one of her blank “canvases” and gets to work. She’s organized, getting her water and paints together,just like I showed her. I try not to smile as I watch her out of the corner of my eye.
About a year ago, she said she wanted to work on canvases, just like me. Riley is a prolific producer of art, so keeping her in a supply of canvases was going to be expensive. But we came up with a solution. I use some old frames I have, and instead of having canvas stretched over them, I got some large sheets of paper and stapled them to the frames. It looks almost as good. When she’s finished, I cut around the frame and release the picture. I’ve got hundreds. And I’m never getting rid of any of them. She’s so talented, and as we paint side by side, we create so many incredible memories that I never want to forget.
“What are you going to paint, Mommy?” she asks.
“I’m going to start something new today,” I reply.
“Mountains?” she asks.
I shake my head. I’ve been through a real mountain phase recently, and today, I want something different. “Maybe trees,” I say. “But not firs.”
“Oak trees?” she asks.
“Maybe.” I pull out my phone and start searching what kind of trees they have on the East Coast.
Life seems so opposite there compared to life in Star Falls. I bet their trees are different too. I come across an image of some silver birch trees. Their narrow, bright white trunks are like spindly fingers poking out of the ground, and their leaves are a delicate green. Yeah, I think I might be onto something. I pull up more images of silver birch trees. They are so delicate and graceful compared to the solidity of the firs and other trees we have in Star Falls. But gorgeous. I imagine myself in the forest, the small leaves all around me, fluttering in the breeze as if they were talkingto me.
I set a fresh canvas on my easel. I take another roll of painter’s tape and get to work, tearing long strips of tape, cutting them, pressing them to the canvas. At the moment, my tree trunks are blue, sticking up from the ground. But when I fill in the background and then peel away the tape, hopefully, I’ll achieve the bright white I want.
“You love my idea about the painter’s tape, don’t you, Mommy?”
“I really do. You’re an inspiration, Riley. Now and always. Don’t ever forget it.”
NINE
Fisher
There isn’t a world where I thought I’d be driving around rural Colorado in a truck. But as Vivian is fully occupied in the studio or with her baby and husband, I have a lot of free time on my hands, and Byron’s truck means I can get off the grounds of the Colorado Club. I guess I should rent something. I just didn’t expect to need to leave the Club. Apart from to get some wings at Grizzly’s
But I’m not heading to Grizzly’s today. I’m headed back to Juniper’s place. I’m still a little pissed she didn’t tell me about her daughter. But I’m also pissed that I’m pissed. I know it’s slightly irrational. She didn’t owe me anything. It’s just I thought I knew her. It felt like I could see into her soul at times. I’m not often wrong about people. Not anymore. But now? Now it feels like I got Juniper wrong, and it fucking bites.
Since my parents divorced, I don’t let people in often, not really. I don’t want to give more than I get. I don’t trust you unless I know you. Properly know you. Until I’ve seenyou weak and vulnerable. I might have been a kid, but my parents spent years pretending they were happy and then turned around and upended my world by telling me it had all been a lie. So, now I assume everyone’s a liar until they prove me otherwise.
Everyone sees the affable, happy Fisher, but they don’t get any deeper than that. But Juniper did. She scratched the surface, and getting her wrong stings.
