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I smile at her dark hair and matching shift dress. She has on red heels, and I have the opposite color of hers. I have a red dress and black heels; I think that she went all out to support me tonight and she knows that it’s a big deal. She was trying to lighten the mood, by coming up with something to make us seem cool on the night. I think that it’s worked because I do feel better having her with me as support. Aunt Betty’s too busy being loved up by Daniel and it seems that Wendy has a drinking problem or her husband left her? She’s spending too much time chasing the waiters around for flutes of champagne.
“Well, I’m hoping that I can get myself a Mr. Moore.”
She sees the frown on my face and then says, “Sorry bad joke.”
I walk up to a photo, that isn’t mine. I didn’t notice it when I came here earlier. I wonder who put this up. I see the owner of the gallery, Fiona and ask, “What’s this?”
She smiles, “Oh Mr. Moore asked to put it up. He said to call it…”
I read about it, “Home.”
“Wow, that’s weird, why has he put a picture of his living room and bedroom in your art gallery? Gretchen asks, and I know exactly the reason why. It has photos, maybe his childhood pictures and his parents all over the walls. A secret message to me, but that doesn't change the way that he tried to dismiss me as a piece of trash.
“Scarlett,” Fiona whispers, “If it bothers you then I’ll take it down. He insisted and paid way too much money to have it up.”
I shake my head, thinking that I thought that he’d given up. The first week, every single day he was sending roses. Notes of apology. He even told Aunt Betty not to sell the land, and he tore up the contract. Aunt Betty said that I should give him a chance. She changed her tune; she said maybe I touched him the same way that he’d touched me.
Either way, I’m not ready to settle down now. I hear my name being called, but a tear falls as I think about him putting up the pictures. I wonder what other changes he’s made, and I’m lost in my thoughts as I think about him.
“Scarlett it’s time,” Fiona whispers as all lights are on the centerpiece. The main reason that we’re all here tonight.
My eyes dart around the room, and then they land on both mom and dad. She’s standing next to him. She came with a broken arm and said that she hurt herself while skiing. I think that she forgot her excuses because it’s not even ski-ing season yet.
I close my eyes as I hold Gretchen’s hand one more time and head to the painting. The one that’ll break my family for good.
Fiona gives me the mic as I take it I hold my breath, and there I see him standing. Joshua Moore, he looks completely different from the last time I saw him. He’s in red polo shirt and jeans with a jacket. He seems more relaxed with his subtle stubble. He doesn’t smile or even change the expression on his face. He just nods at me. As if he’s giving me permission to go ahead.
Either way, I start my speech. The one that I’ve been practicing all week as I start to do the unveiling.
“Thank you for coming tonight. I know that most of all you know me from hanging here as a kid in Rowtons. I was lost for the best part of my teens for one reason or another. But coming back here…”
I clear my throat as I stare at Aunt Betty. I know that this will break her heart, but I want her to understand my heartache and the reasons that I made bad choices. Which began and ended with Sam.
“And opening my eyes for the first time. Has helped me express how I feel about my past. The torment and danger that I used to escape from every time I came here. The reason why as an adult, I never go to my family home and the reason why I hate the man in the picture.”
I nod to Fiona so that she can remove the sheet.
“I want you to see my masterpiece. It’s called the man in the dark.”
As it's removed, I see my mom faint and Daniel by her side catching her and stopping her from tumbling to the ground. My dad muttering something and then leaving. Aunt Betty gasps and I turn to Gretchen and see the tears uncontrollably leaving her eye and as for everyone else. They’re clapping, pointing to the picture and the man in the light and the child at the back.
The woman on the floor in a pool of blood and the man, his face smiling as the light only focuses on his face. The paintings black with only light on the woman in black but in a pool of red signifying blood and the child, who’s in a corner witnessing it all, but then she has a zip over her mouth implying that she’ll never tell a soul.
Fiona is nodding as she’s the only person that’s seen the picture and said that it would sell for thousands. I’ve put my heart and soul into the piece and as much as not everyone understands exactly what it means to me.
I start to look for him. The man that made me go from hiding the darkness that was in me, to bringing it out into the light.
He’s by my side, I don’t see him, but I know his woody scent.
He kisses me on the cheek, he says, “That's beautiful.”
I don’t hesitate in wrapping my arms around him. I know that I shouldn’t. I should hate him for how he treated me and made me feel, but how can I despise someone who helped me face my past. He's made me express exactly how I feel about my childhood. Something that I’ve kept hidden for so long?
“The piece is beautiful. Just like the artist.”
I push him back; he whispers, “Wait, I know that I don’t deserve another chance, but I would like to try.”
“By fucking me all weekend?”
