“Let’s look for proof that things can go right.”She glances out the window and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.“Did you have any trouble on the way here?Car trouble?Driver trouble?”
“No.The drive was—it was fine.The weather is nice even.”I could have walked, but I drove because I thought I’d turn around if I was on foot.“So that went right.”
“As far as I can tell, this morning hasn’t been all bad.You were on time.You didn’t have any problems with your car and didn’t get into an accident.You arrived in one piece.Did something specific happen over the weekend that’s making you feel this way?”
I didn’t want to talk about this.Ireallydidn’t.It’s so meaningless.But now that Anne’s asked, it’s the only thing on my mind.
“I ran into my neighbor.My landlord.We…well, it wasn’t a fight, but he wasn’t happy because my friends and I were loud on Friday night.We kept him awake.He wasn’t—I don’t know.I overreacted, I think, but I was upset.And that’s why the party wasn’t wrapped up with a bow.”
Her brow arches.Oh Anne.I’m learning what that means.“Because of something he said?”
I shift in my seat and set the tea down.“Because he—I felt defensive about the noise because he could have said something and then it wouldn’t have been an issue.And then I dropped the shell.”
“A shell?”Anne asks, that brow still arched.It’s going to give her wrinkles.
“I found a shell on the beach.I was going to write on it like I used to do with my mom.We would come here for long weekends and sometimes in the summer we’d get a place, and we would write memories on shells and then throw it in the ocean to show thanks to the universe.”
Anne smiles kindly, “Your mom sounds like a gentle soul.”
I nod, my throat going tight, “She was.
“I was going to write a memory on it, about the party and how I missed her but she would have loved it, but it broke.”My eyes fill with tears.I can’t stop them.“When it broke, it just felt like the whole weekend broke with it.It’s supposed to be a shell for that day, you know?And I was so tired and it broke.”
Anne hands me a box of tissues.I take one and dab at my eyes, breathing deeply.I amnotgoing to cry over the shell.I’m not going to cryagainover the shell.Once is enough.
“What would your mother have done?”Anne questions.
“About what?”
“About the shell or about your landlord.About the party and the noise.”
“She would apologize,” I admit, my voice shaking.I’ll sob out loud when I get home, but not in front of Anne.Not right now.“She would try to make it right.She would have gotten another shell but I didn’t.Are you saying I should try again?”
“I’m saying that knowledge of your mom can’t be broken.It will always be with you.”Anne gives me an encouraging smile.“But maybe it would be worth trying again.Go get another shell, it’s okay that it’s not the same day.You can talk to your landlord.You can do whatever you want to do.Whatever your gut is telling you is right.”
With a rolled up tissue in my hand, I blink away the tears and nod.In my mind though I see Parker and my gut sinks.It’s a shitty feeling and even worse when I know I will not be able to explain this to him.If I do, I’ll break down and he’ll think I’ve lost it even more than he probably already does.
PARKER
No matter what happens, I usually paint or sketch or get some kind of art in if I can.Good day at the beach?Have to replace the pieces so I have more to sell.Bad day at the beach?Need to have more pieces ready to sell next time.Different pieces.New things to try.Slow winter?Same thing.
Today… it’s coming a little harder than normal.Could be cause the sky is gray and the ocean moody.Or it could be that I can’t stop thinking about her.
The conversation with Luna bothers me, and I can’t think about it without a brush in my hand.She must’ve already been upset before I saw her.Had to be.She needed a hug, not a lecture.How the hell was I supposed to know though?
And upset about what exactly?What could have made her so angry that fast?What could have made her so sad over a seashell?It’s not like she mentioned anything when she signed the lease on the condo.
But I wish I knew.
Clouds roll in over town on Monday afternoon, confirming my decision to spend the day in the store.I don’t have many customers, which was hit or miss.On some cloudy days, people shop.On others, they don’t come into town at all and spend the day at home.
I spend it painting and thinking about Luna.
NowI have to talk to her.I don’t want that conversation to get to her.I don’t want her to think I’m a dick who spends all my time thinking of ways to ruin her day.I should’ve approached it better the first time, but I didn’t think she’d react like that.Zero to a hundred in about ten words.What exactly to say and do escapes me though.
I don’t put her in one of my paintings, but I do put a woman at the edge of the canvas, wearing a blue dress and walking along the shore.Barely happens on purpose.I’m just thinking about her, and there she is, in the scene.I’ve painted the beach a thousand times at least, so it comes easy to me.
I spend the last hour before the store closes rearranging pieces on the walls and shelves and putting out a collection of sketches I did a few summers ago.If they’re right in front, they’ll catch somebody’s eye.The fact that they haven’t sold just means I haven’t found the right place for them yet.
