Page 52 of The Beach Shack Artists 3
Twenty minutes later, Anna emerged paint-free and significantly more human-looking, wearing one of Tyler’s old surf t-shirts that hung to her knees.
“Better?” she asked, flopping onto his battered couch.
“Much. Though I kind of liked the abstract expressionist look you had going.”
Anna grinned and drank the last of her beer. “I was channeling my inner Jackson Pollock. Very method.”
Tyler glanced up from his laptop. “You talked to Meg yet?”
“Not yet,” Anna said quickly. “I’m… giving her space.”
Tyler laughed. “Or avoiding her.”
“Mutual avoidance,” Anna said. “It’s an art form.”
Anna picked at her beer label. “You know, Bea actually called me out on something yesterday. Said I don’t realize how exhausting my ‘improvements’ can be for people.” She looked up at Tyler. “Do you think that’s true? Am I really that... overwhelming?”
Tyler shifted uncomfortably, fighting the urge to go—somewhere else. “I mean... you did re-arrange the entire Beach Shack. And scare the customers.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Okay, yes. Sometimes you get so focused on making things better that you don’t notice when people are struggling to keep up.”
Anna was quiet for a moment. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that? My whole life, you’ve watched me steamroll people and never said anything?”
Tyler felt his face flush. “I figured that was Meg’s department. I handle the disappearing act, she handles the cleanup crew.”
“That’s not fair to either of us.”
“No, it’s not.” Tyler took a sip of beer. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Anna nodded, processing this. “I should probably apologize to Joey. Apparently I completely destroyed his napkin organization system. Who knew napkins had feelings?”
“Joey’s napkins definitely have feelings. Very delicate feelings.”
“And I should probably avoid Meg for a few more days. Let the Florence Method thing cool down.”
Tyler grinned. “That’ll be interesting considering you live in her house.”
“And work at the same restaurant,” Anna added with a grimace. “This avoidance strategy has some logistical flaws.”
“How’s the Festival piece coming along anyway?”
“Good, actually. Really good. I think Florence taught me some things about light that I’m finally applying properly.” She paused. “I’m excited to show everyone. Which is weird, because usually I’m terrified to show anyone anything.”
Tyler raised an eyebrow. “Since when are you terrified to show your work? You’ve been inflicting your artistic vision on us since we were kids.”
“That’s different. That was just... existing. This feels more like... declaring myself an artist. Officially.”
“You’ve been an artist your whole life, Anna. I guess some of us are just slow learners.”
“Speaking of slow learners, remember when we were sixteen? What were we like?”
Anna laughed and nodded. “I was painting murals on my bedroom wall without permission. On the house, even. You were hiding in the darkroom to avoid family dinners.”
“And Meg was already running the household because Mom was...” Tyler gestured vaguely.
“Distracted by her latest spiritual awakening,” Anna finished. “God, we were disasters.”
