Page 25 of This Life and All the Rest
We keep the conversation light. She tells me more about her internship. I talk about the commissioned pieces I have lined up and what I’m working on right now. She asks about Franco, I ask about her current love interest, and we end the evening with a long hug and a promise to talk in a few days.
She’s driving back to D.C. tonight because her mom randomly decided to come back to town. Her flight lands first thing in the morning, and Sam wants to miss her. Of all her family members, Mrs. Harper is easily the least smarmy, but I don’t blame Sam for wanting to avoid her.
Her mom might not have been the one causing the problems, but she’s also never done anything to stop them from happening. In my opinion, that makes the senator’s wife just as bad as the senator.
It’s only nine when I get back to Andrea’s house, but I manage to sneak up to the guest bedroom without being seen.
I might be stuck in Virginia, but my life can’t stop.
I have emails to send, client inquiries to respond to. I closed my commissions before I got on the plane, but I’ve still received several emails a day asking about them.
I’ve been considering hiring a part-time personal assistant or looking into getting an agent. I don’t really need help selling my work but having someone to help answer these emails and handle the contracts and invoices would be nice.
I check my website traffic. It’s kicked up an insane amount since my latest gallery show. Franco jokes that I should pay someone to give it a makeover now that I’m making money, but I’m proud of my little DIY online gallery. I taught myself basic coding to build it, and while it’s not flashy or complex, it gets the job done. It’s simple and humble, and I personally think it puts my pieces center stage. My paintings don’t need flashy web-design to shine. They do that on their own.
I’ve started doing a weekly blog about technique and my creative process, and I’ll have to draft a few blog posts soon, but I’m just too exhausted to do it now. If I look at the computer screen for any longer, my eyes might actually shrivel up like raisins and fall out of my head.
I send Franco a message filling him in on everything, then I shower and pass out with wet hair all before eleven.
My first full day back, and it’s exhausted me in every possible way. My arms and legs ache. My mind is in a fog. I wake up crying twice in a cold sweat, chased in nightmares by demons I can’t exorcise. I haven’t cried over any of it in a long time. I thought that meant I’d healed.
But everything is made worse in this room.
Everything is made worse in this town, around these people.
My hand rubs at the small scars on my thigh, healed now, but forever reminding me of just how low I can fall.
I don’t know how I’m going to last much longer.
TEN
I workthe morning at the rec center.
I’m still technically “off” for a family emergency, but since I live upstairs, it’s easy to do paperwork and schedules when I’m not at the hospital or watching Evelyn. I don’t sleep well most nights, anyway, so work and pottery make for good distractions.
I’m finishing up the volunteer schedules for the first two weeks of July when there’s a knock followed by the slow opening of my office door.
“Hey,” Payton says brightly, stepping into the room with a smile. “You busy?”
“Just finished up the schedule, actually,” I tell her, clicking out of the online program I use. “What’s up? I already scheduled you all day on the 4thso you can’t ask for it off now.”
I’m smiling, but I’m serious. Payton is one of our best volunteers. The kids and parents love her, and she can teach almost anything. No way we can get through the 4thof July Fun Day without her.
“I’m excited for the 4th,” she says with a laugh. “No worries.”
“Good, because I’ve got you in charge of the water games. You’re the only one who can handle the middle schoolers.”
Payton rolls her eyes playfully, a tint of pink showing on her cheeks. We’re dangerously approaching flirt territory.
"So, what’s up, then, Payton?” I say, changing my tone to something more professional.
“Well, I wanted to let you know that someone came by yesterday,” she says slowly, and the way she’s studying me sets my teeth on edge. Is she trying to read my body language? Does she want to see how I’ll react? “They were looking for James.”
“Okay.” I raise one brow and fold my arms across my chest. “And did you tell them that James is in Massachusetts?”
“I did.” She nods, then purses her lips. “But she said she used to volunteer here.”
My back goes ramrod straight, but I fight to keep my face blank and my voice calm.
