AllFreeNovel
Share Us
They drove to Earl Palmer’s house while Alex looked anxiously out the window. They didn’t go to the house, but rather into Bertie’s old studio.
“Is this where it happened?” she said, looking around and nervously tugging on the yellow and gray scarf around her neck.
“Yes.”
“This place represented so many happy memories for me. And now? Bertie would be so sad that Earl...”
She wandered around and took the cover off an easel set in the corner.
“My God, I can’t believe she kept this.”
“What is it?” said Devine, walking over to join her.
“The first painting I did under Bertie’s tutelage.”
Devine took a look at it. The image was clear enough. He shot her a glance.
“It’s you. You started out with a self-portrait?”
She nodded. “Only it was Bertie’s idea.”
“What was the reasoning behind that?” asked Devine curiously.
Alex leaned against the wall, put her hands in her pockets, and stared at the painting.
“It wasn’t that long after...I was attacked. Bertie wanted me to know that I was still there. That I had meaning and value. That the person who did that to me could never take that away. Ever. That Alex Silkwell was alive and would thrive.”
“In addition to being an artist, Bertie sounded like she would have made a great counselor.”
“She helped me more than all the fancy shrinks ever did. But it was more or less what you told me, too, when I was on the roof. So are you a great counselor, as well?”
“Depends on who I’m counseling.”
Alex stepped forward, put her hand out to the painting, and gently traced her jawline, and next the curve of her right eye.
“I had just turned sixteen when I painted this. I’m twice as old as that now.”
“Still a young woman with most of her life ahead of her.”
“I’m a very different person now, Travis.”
“Experience changes all of us, no matter whether we want it to or not. And like I said before, you’re stronger and better than your younger version.”
“And like you said, I guess the fact that I’m still standing is a victory of sorts.”
“In the Army it was the only one that counted.”
“You never told me why you left the military.”
“Some days I don’t even know,” he lied.
She seemed to sense this and looked away. “You expect truthfulness from everyone except yourself?” she said coldly.
Devine sighed and nodded. “You’re right. I’m being a hypocrite. The truth is I left the Army because I had to. Officially, it was my decision, but I really had no other pathway.”
“Why?”
“Someone committed a wrong, a horrible wrong, against a fellow colleague of ours, and was never held accountable for it. I tried to work through the proper channels to right that wrong. And I was stonewalled. So I took matters into my own hands. But by righting a wrong I committed one of my own. After that I felt I didn’t have the right to wear the uniform. The honorable thing to do was leave, and so I did. My penance was giving up the thing I loved the most.”
