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I stared at the abstract painting of a bus with broken hearts, shattered lives and love, then shook my head.
“Too painful.”
“That’s okay,” Demi said. “Let it speak to others.”
She grabbed the painting from me.
I felt my chin quiver and my eyes well up with tears.
“Oh, my,” Demi said. “This one is real.”
“Very real, Demi.”
“Tea and conversation?”
“Please,” I said with a nod.
“First…”
I watched as Demi took my new painting out to the front of the gallery.
It felt way too vulnerable.
Ever since Riff told me what happened the night of the bus crash with Remi, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Part of me wanted to scream at my brother.
He saved you!
Part of me understood it all.
The lingering past between Riff and Remi.
Somehow with me always involved.
How it all went wrong.
Then the crash…
I shivered.
I followed Demi out to the main floor.
The painting was now on display.
She made us each a cup of tea.
“I can tell that one is raw,” she said.
“There’s a lot that goes into it,” I said. “A dark time.”
“Seems like it lingers.”
“It’s everywhere, Demi.”
“Has to do with that man who pleasures you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
