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I shrugged and carried my new card and supplies out to the car. Then I drove to a small office furniture store a few blocks away so I could pick up a stool. I needed something to use to sit at the workbench and found the perfect chair on rollers that was higher than normal and was adjustable. Satisfied that I had the perfect choice, I paid for it and then went back to the car, driving the few blocks to the studio. I parked and carried my packages inside, eager now to get the studio space better organized, my mind occupied for the moment and off the issues Drake and I faced back home.
The studio would be my personal escape from life. I wouldn't spend much time there, but it would be enough to keep my artistic pursuits alive. One day, when Sophie went to school, I'd have more time to spend painting – if that was what I wanted to do. I even considered finishing my MA, if the time came when I felt the drive to do so.
I was damn lucky and I knew it. Most women didn’t have my options.
I worked away in the studio, organizing my supplies and unpacking the stool, getting it set up and adjusted to the right height. Then, I couldn't resist setting up my easel and considering my current canvas. I got out my paints and started working on the elephant, getting my paints mixed just right. My mind was completely occupied with the painting and I forgot about the time as I worked away. When my cell dinged, I was brought back to the present and checked my watch. I'd been gone for an hour and a half.
It was Drake.
DRAKE: Hey, I came home and found Elaine here with Sophie. I assume you're still at the studio.
KATE: I'm sorry – I should have texted you to let you know. I didn’t want to bother you when you were with Brenda. I lost track of time but will be home right away.
DRAKE: Don't hurry. Come when you're ready. Sophie and I are having fun together. Elaine told me we're going to their place for a barbecue.
KATE: Yes, I agreed already. I hope you don't mind. I'll clean up and be home soon.
DRAKE: I don’t mind at all. I love you.
KATE: I love you.
I smiled and turned off my cell, then started to clean up. On my way to the building's trash chute, which disposed of any materials that were toxic or flammable such as turpentine, I ran into a man coming out of the disposal room. Tall, dark with longish hair in a man bun, he looked every inch the artist. Black t-shirt, worn jeans, black boots, and a kerchief around his head, he fit right in to my ideas of the bohemian artist.
"Oh, hello," he said and stopped when I grabbed the door handle to the garbage room. "You're the new tenant in studio 8."
"I am," I said and turned to face him. "I'm Kate."
"Sean," he said and extended his hand, then thought better of it since it was stained with paint. "I'm in studio 6, just down from you. What kind of art do you do?"
"Wildlife," I said. "I just started painting a series based on a trip to Africa."
"Cool," he said and smiled. "I do urban animals."
"Really?" I said and smiled back. "I'd love to see your work."
"Come on over. I'm working on one now."
"I will."
I waited for him to throw out his handful of rags that smelled like turpentine and then followed him down the hall to the studios. We entered his studio and I saw his paintings on the wall. Very impressionistic animals you'd find in the city – crows, sea birds, cats in alleys, dogs roaming garbage bins in a slum that looked like it came from some South American shanty town. He was talented and definitely had a point of view.
"These are great," I said, moving from one to the next. "This looks like it's in Mexico City or some slum in South America."
"Bogota, Columbia. The slum is called Ciudad Bolívar."
"You spent time there?"
"I went on a gap year before college. A friend and I travelled across the USA and down to Tierra del Fuego at the tip of Argentina."
I walked around his studio and examined each painting, and then his studio, interested in what other residents of the building did and how they arranged their spaces. He had an old purple sofa against one wall, but the rest of the space was dedicated to storing canvases and paints, brushes and other supplies.
He leaned against the wall beside me as I looked at a painting of a fox near an upended trash can.
"You want to go for drinks when you're done? There's a great little hole in the wall bar that serves Tapas down the street."
I smiled and held up my wedding ring. "Married. Baby. Sorry."
"My loss. If you ever change your mind, let me know."
