AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Jake returns with my beer and I take a sip. I didn’t really want it, but when you’re in a bar, you should drink something, I guess.
I’m only here because I’m bored and looking for something to do. Tillie’s painting, and I’ve come to learn that’s a very solitary endeavor.
I learned that the first night I stayed with her when, after breakfast, she kicked me out so she could work.
And yeah, I even like that about her. That she needs her private time and she’s not focused on trying to take all mine.
Although, admittedly, I’d be fine hanging out in the same room with her while she painted. I could read a book or surf my phone.
Jesus, what’s wrong with me? Dreaming of sitting in a room with Tillie to be near her. I scrub my hands over my face, hoping it will wipe away this obsession.
“Looks like you got a load on your mind,” Hank says, and I blink at him.
“Yeah… sorry. Just thinking.”
“About Tillie?” he guesses before popping a french fry into his mouth.
I don’t know this guy very well. Only hung with him a bit at the music festival and the fair a few nights ago. I’m generally a private person, even more so after the crash.
And yet, I find myself answering, “Hard not to think of her.”
Hank chuckles. “She’s one in a million. They don’t get any more genuine than her.”
“I think I’ve figured that out.” I take another drink of my beer. “Tillie said you all grew up together.”
“All of us except Xander. He’s a transplant to the area, but yeah… Erica, Tillie, Ann Marie, and Hayley, all best friends since kindergarten. I’m allowed in the group by virtue of dating Erica.”
“I’ve heard you make a trusty designated driver.”
Tillie told me about their pub crawl tradition with Hank carting them around.
Hank laughs as he wipes his hands with a napkin and pushes his plate back. “Luckily, they don’t do the crawl that often, but they sure are a lot of fun when they’re drunk. You wouldn’t believe the things women talk about when they’re loaded.”
I grin at the image of a drunk Tillie. “Oh, I can imagine.”
“Where is she?” he asks.
“Painting. I’m not allowed to hang around when she’s working.”
Hank has second thoughts about pushing his plate away and grabs another fry. He swirls it in ketchup. “Tillie’s an incredible artist, and it’s never work to her. Whether she’s painting or teaching, she sort of gets in her own world surrounded by colors and imagination.”
“Teaching?” I ask. I didn’t know she taught.
“Yeah… she and her parents set up a weekend arts program at the VFW where they give free lessons to anyone who wants to try their hand. Of course, she does it on her own now that they’ve passed, but it’s really important to her.”
I knew painting was her passion, but I didn’t know she taught others or that it’s such a significant part of her life. While conversation is easier with Tillie than it’s been with anyone since the crash, we haven’t gone that deep. I think we’re both afraid we might stumble into territory that would cause angry feelings—namely that fucking easement.
“It’s why she’s building the art studio,” he continues, grabbing another fry. “She used the life insurance money from her parents to buy that property. Started a nonprofit and is going to bring in other artists to visit and offer free lessons.”
I stare at Hank, unable to formulate a word. Tillie has never mentioned any of this. I thought she was just opening a gallery to sell her work, which again, more power to her.
But a nonprofit? To give free lessons?
I shake my head, dispelling the notion that it should make a difference to me.
It doesn’t.
It’s still traffic running through my property. It still impedes on my new life.
