Одри Карлан - February (Calendar Girl #2)

The lighting above the artwork shone bright and seemed to start in the middle of the images and burst out, accentuating the depth of the dark and light along with the texture of the red paint making it pop out as if 3D.

“Have you figured out what it means yet?” Alec asked while looking at the painting. I looked at him for long moments. Watching him as he appreciated what he created. He was the one that should have been the subject of the artwork. He was so big, strong, and masculine. The hair he’d pulled into a tiny bun at the back of his head seemed to shine gold in the lighting. His beard and mustache made slight rustling noise as he rubbed his knuckles across it. “Have you, ma jolie ?”

I shook my head and focused on the art. “I can see that it’s beautiful, that it moves me in a way.”

His gaze shot to mine. “It moves you?”

“Yeah,” I whispered focusing on the first image. “This one, I look sad, but it’s more than that. There’s a quiet devastation there. The sorrow so deep in the eyes you’ve painted makes me think I’ll never be happy. That she’ll never be happy.” I tried to take myself out of the image even though it was difficult. I had a feeling that was the last thing he intended.

He nodded. “Yes when I captured you, it hurt me. That’s how I knew it was the right one. Art should make you feel something. Good, bad, happiness, sorrow, love, hate, cold, warmth. Everything we see correlates to a feeling within us. This particular one moved you the way it should.”

“Why? Why would you want someone to feel sorrow and a sadness so deep they may never recover?”

His gaze held mine. “Because that is what I want the viewer to see. The painting is called, “No Love for Me.”

Those words shot through my heart like an arrow. Tears spilled down both sides of my face “And the other?” I asked though afraid to hear the answer.

“What does it make you feel?”

I skimmed over the photographic image of my sad self and quickly looked away. “Shame.” His jaw seemed to tighten and lock down, and he gave a slight nod. I focused again on the image where I held my hand over the heart of the sad Mia. “Hope.” Again he stared and waited. I took in all the red lips everywhere all over the Mia reaching out to the sad image. “Love.” I shrugged.

Alec turned and came over to me where he kneeled down. He moved forward, held my face in both hands and kissed me softly. I could taste the coffee he drank and something darker, something that was unique to him.

“You see what I want you to see. Shame, hope, and love.” His eyes were wide, his features soft as he took in my face.

“But why? Those things are hard to grasp. Not only that, they are often things that tear people apart.”

“As sometimes art can do. It’s all in the eye of the beholder. What you see, what I see, may feel different, as it should.”

“Have you named it?”

He tipped his chin down in assent.

“What are you calling it?”

“Exactly what I want the viewer to feel.”

I swallowed slowly waiting for him to finish. He didn’t. “Which is?”

He traced my face from the indent at my temple down to my lips. He watched his finger with reverence as it slipped across my features.

“To Love Thyself.”

Chapter 6

Over the next week, Alec and I got into a regular routine. Stills, eating, sex. Painting, eating, sex. We hadn’t left the building, and most days it rained. I longed for sunny Malibu and being free to swim, go for a walk, or surf. What I missed most, though, besides my family, was Wes. Don’t get me wrong, Alec was amazing in more ways than one. Even though we had an easy camaraderie and had a blast in the bedroom, there really was nothing more to our relationship other than working and fucking. ‘Making love’ he called it; I called it fucking, and I loved to do it, though I didn’t share that with him. It could have been worse, I guess. He could have been parading me around to boring museums to look at other people’s art.

I wasn’t due in the loft until the evening. That was a new request. Usually, he wanted me there first thing after I woke. The problem was when I was alone with my thoughts, I’d think of all the things in my real life I was missing. My dad, who hadn’t woken from his coma but had been moved to a convalescent facility to be cared for by the State. Gin said it was an okay place, nothing special about it. She said she and Maddy visited every few days, read to him, try to keep him company. She sent me a picture of him lying in bed. The bruises around his face had healed. Most of his body was still in a cast of some sort.

Looking down at my phone, I saw my dad. It was as if he was sleeping, not fighting for his life. The doctors don’t know what his mental status will be if he wakes up. When he wakes up, I remind myself. No need to put out negative vibes into the universe. Even though I don’t really believe in that shit, if it does happen to be real, I’m not going to be the one to mess with the higher power.

Scrolling through the list of contacts, I pressed the speed dial for Maddy. It had been a good week since I’d spoken to her, and I was missing my baby sis.

“Hey, Sis.” Maddy’s sing song voice rang through the phone. Instantly, the tight feeling around my heart lessened at her happy tone.

“Hi, Mads, how you doing?” I asked.

The shuffling of papers and a zipper could be heard through the line. “Eh, you know me, getting ready for class.”

“What’s this one?”

“Forensic Pathology,” she answered.

I pushed a hand through my hair and tucked the blankets higher around my body. “Isn’t that the study of dead people?”

More shuffling then she sighed. “Yeah, technically it focuses on determining the cause of death by examining a corpse. The autopsy is performed by a medical examiner, usually during the investigation of criminal law cases and civil law cases in some jurisdictions…” She went on, but I had blanked out after she said examining a corpse.

“You’re going to cut up a dead person?” I couldn’t contain the shock in my voice. Who would willingly want to do that? I mean, I know people did do that, and it was part of solving murders and such, but really, my sweet baby sister cutting up dead guys? The thought made the hair on my arms rise.

“It’s called a cadaver, and it’s part of my course work. Everyone has to do a variety of classes and I picked this one. It’s really interesting. You’d never believe some of the sick stuff people do.”

She’d be surprised. “I know what psychos do, and I don’t want my baby sis anywhere near that shit. You’re golden, baby. I don’t want you tainted by what the scum of the Earth do.”

“Momma Mia, you cannot protect me forever. I’m nineteen years old. Besides, you’re only five years older than me.”

“Didn’t stop me from taking care of you to this point!” I shot back.

She sighed so long I could almost physically feel the weight of it pressing back down on my chest. “Mia, I don’t know what type of scientist I’m going to be yet…”

“The kind that cures cancer or develops new pills that can keep me skinny forever! The kind that doesn’t deal in death!” I sat up, my hackles rising. I did not want her surrounded by the ugly in life. We’d had enough of that growing up, and I had worked my damn ass off since she was five to make sure she’d see only light, as bright as I could give her.

“You know I love you,” she said so softly, using that voice that she knew got to me. “I know you want everything for me, and I…” She paused, and that pause pressed the weight deeper, crushing my heart. “Mia, I have to be able to find my own way. Okay? Promise me you’ll let me figure this out on my own.”