Maybe This Is Love, |✔️

Years go by (pt 2)

The smell of fresh paint tickles my nostrils. I used to love the smell as a kid, but now it's just another reminder that things are changing.

Today's been crazy. I couldn't be more stressed if I got on my knees and begged. I haven't had a panic attack in years, but right now I wouldn't be surprised if one somehow crept up on me.

But still, there's a joy in my heart that even cynical old me can't deny.

Today marks my very first gallery opening. Well, tomorrow actually, but I've only just arrived back in Beaumont this evening. It's been a long time coming. A lot of rescheduled dates and anxiety riddled indecision.

I didn't think Beaumont would see me again. Not after all those years of avoiding it due to everything that went down with Parker. Even though this place was my home before I even met him, it didn't feel like one until he entered my life. But, alas, I've decided it's time to go back to my roots. Who knows what could grow?

I stand here in this vacant studio, various boxes filled with my work surround my feet, ready to be hung up on the walls.

Dane was supposed to be here with me. It doesn't quite feel right to be doing this without him. It was meant to be a joint exhibition, something he'd promised me a long time ago. He has more experience than I, so it was only right to do it together. That way, his clients could become my clients too. We could pretend we were Frida Kahlo and Diego Riviera.

I remember the way he said it the day we first met and my heart pangs.

"I hope one day we'll be able to collaborate."

Oh Dane, if only he were here to hold my hand through it all. Before he was my partner, he was my friend, and I miss that connection we had with all my might.

He may not have been my forever romantically, but he was still my best friend for life.

But, of course, he pulled out. We haven't really seen each other much since the divorce, and I can't say I blame him. I broke his heart.

I'm terrified to do this all by myself. What if nobody comes? What if I'm sat in this studio all by myself with just my memories to keep me company?

I expressed these concerns to my agent the other day, who assured me that Dane's' vacant spot has already been filled with a surprising new budding artist who has already created enough buzz for themselves.

If they weren't coming for me, they'd definitely be coming for them.

She refused to give me any more details like their names, gender, age, or other exhibitions they've done.

I let my imagination run wild and I imagined a 20-something year old, pixie-haired, fresh out of university girl who wants a chance to showcase her talents. A girl who was a lot like me once upon a time.

In the other room, another pile of boxes sits waiting to be unpacked by their owner. They aren't mine, so they must be the other artists.

I told myself I wouldn't snoop, but where's the harm? I'm pretty sure the contents of these boxes will be hung on the wall in a few days, so why not give myself a free preview? It's not as if it's a secret.

I make my way across the polished wooden floors and begin opening the paint-stained box.

A painter...

I lift one of the canvases concealed in a glass case up and survey it.

"Oh my." The case slips from my hand and smashes onto the ground. Shards of glass flew everywhere. "Shit, shit, shit."

It's me. That woman is me. The exact same wedding dress with the exact same hair, body shape, and skin tone. She's me. She has to be. There's no way around it. They've even got the tattoo in the middle of my back right. The one I got on the trip to Italy when I visited Parker for the last time. It was just before we broke up. A little black and red spiderweb... Parker had the large black spider on his own back. Back then, it was just a funny little spontaneous thing we did, but now it is a reminder of all the good things I once had and lost.