Painted Memories (26 page)

People were everywhere.
 I had to weave through them, holding up the back of my dress so it wouldn't get stepped on. I spotted Drew in the distance, talking to a man who looked like the same one that interrupted Phillip and me earlier. Drew pointed toward a painting and shook his head before pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't appear pleased, but nodded once and hung his head. The man patted him on the shoulder before walking away. I could only imagine how stressful the planning for this event was, and now it seemed to be catching up to him. Maybe I could cheer him up.

“Hey! There you are,” I said when I walked up to him. “Thanks for leaving me all alone,” I teased.

“I'm sorry. Time has really flown by. I didn't expect to be running around so much.”

“No worries. It was nice talking to Michelle and your dad. Oh! And I met Phillip! I'm sure I sounded like a blubbering idiot. I was so nervous talking to him.”

“I'm sure you were fine,” Drew said as his eyes darted around behind me.

“Phillip seemed kind of cryptic though. He told me to tell you that you have a good eye, but are lacking in the details. What's that supposed to mean?”

Drew stared at me, his eyes slightly widening as if realizing something important, before the muscles in his face relaxed. “I'm not sure. Who knows with Phillip?”

“So,” I sighed and turned around. “Which painting is yours? I feel like I've waited forever to see it. Maybe I'll place a bid myself,” I said with a sly grin. As if I could afford it anyway. The people here could out-bid me on everything.

“Oh... well... How about we step out for a drink?” His eyes darted around again, almost in a panic.

“What? No way. Which one? I bet yours is the best one up there. I'll just look for it myself; I bet I can figure it out on my own.” I started toward the back of the room when Drew grabbed my shoulder.

“Lilly, wait. I need to tell you—”

“There he is!” I heard a deep voice beside me boom. Phillip and Michelle stood in front of me. Steven and Victoria lingered behind, chatting amongst themselves. As far as I was concerned, Victoria could have stayed missing.

“Hey pal,” Phillip said to Drew. “I thought I'd bring the rest of the gang in to see your paintings.”

“Yeah, great, you shouldn't have,” Drew said sarcastically.

“You can't be serious. You know just as well as I do that everyone loves looking at your work.”

“Yeah, I'm sure they do, if it's
approved
artwork.” Drew raked his fingers through his hair and blew out a puff of air. “Phillip, those were
not
the pictures I told you to offer.” Drew said firmly.

“What are you talking about? I picked them out from the ones you told me I could go through,” Phillip countered, obviously confused.

We all looked back and forth between the two, a bit lost as to what was going on.

“No. I told you to go through the ones on the left, not the ones on the right. The ones you took weren't meant for the public.” Drew glanced at me before glowering at Phillip.

As if it finally hit him, Phillip gasped and looked between Drew and me. “Damn it, Drew, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize... I mean when I ran into her in the hall, I didn't think to question why you painted those specific paintings.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“What's going on, Drew?”

“Oh, won't this be fun,” I heard Victoria say under her breath, but loud enough for us all to hear.

Drew came closer and tried to lighten the distressed expression on his face, but his eyes, full of worry, betrayed him. “It's nothing really. Phillip grabbed the wrong pictures. I painted them from memory, a test of sorts to work on my attention to detail, but I wasn't finished with them yet. I was going to show you... when the time was right. I painted them for you.”

Really?
That was it? “Oh. Surely you can just create something similar... or paint it over. It can't be that big of a deal, can it? Or maybe we can explain it was an accident, and that they weren't supposed to be up for auction. Exchange something in their place.”

Drew shook his head, “I'm afraid not. I asked already. Once an item has a bid, it's up to the buyer to work out a deal with the original owner. Plus, I could never paint anything similar.”

He could paint anything, I was sure of it. I stepped towards the row of pictures. “Which one is it?” I asked as I moved down the row, slowly looking over them, trying to decide which was his. “I don't see—”

And there I was.
A past reflection, a memory. I looked over at Drew and he hung his head. The oil painting was so life-like, one might think it was a photograph originally. I faced a tree, my forearms pressed against the bark, looking over my shoulder at an invisible person. My curly locks fell down my back, and a white dress hugged every curve of my body. White lights sprinkled amongst the branches, gave a shimmering, soft glow to my skin. Even I found it hard to believe how undeniably sexy I looked. Like I was posing for who knows what?

“Is this how you see me? How you saw me that night?” I asked incredulously.

“Not just me, it's how everyone sees you. You're beautiful, Lilly,” he said softly.

I smiled and brushed my fingers down his chest. “Are there anymore?” I asked. His eyes closed as he nodded. I hesitated before moving, wondering why he seemed depressed, or how he could possibly be ashamed of his own work, and what I would think of it. Peering down the row, I looked for Drew's name on the plaques of each painting, rather than trying to guess which ones were his. Drew's name appeared a few paintings down and I stepped closer to read the caption of it.

“The Winter That Never Was.”

Gazing at the picture, my eyes darted back and forth, my vision blurring as I fought back my tears. Jesse and I were sitting on a park bench; both bundled up in our winter coats and scarves. Snow-covered tree limbs filled the landscape and dusted the ground beneath us. His arm was around me as if we were posing for a picture. My head rested on his shoulder, my face turned up slightly, visibly enjoying the warmth of the sun. My hair was illuminated and looked like golden straw. I noticed Jesse was wearing a ring, which looked strikingly similar to the one he bought himself the summer before his senior year. In the picture, winter had fallen. But Jesse never lived to
see winter that year. The painting was only what
we
might have looked like if we had been able to share it... our last winter together.

A hand softly brushed down the side of my arm and I looked at Drew, who was standing next to me. I jerked my arm away, suddenly feeling angry at him. How could he do this without asking my permission? It was almost like he was teasing me by showing me what could’ve have been.

I stepped away from him, “How? How could you do this?”

“I'm so sorry, Lilly. It was never my intention for you to—”

“Are there more?” I asked. Tears slid down my cheeks and I glanced around to see Phillip, Steven, Michelle, and Victoria all watching me. They seemed shocked by my reaction, but remained in place, everyone at a loss for words.

“Yes. One more,” Drew said, not meeting my eyes.

“Show me.”

He stepped forward, holding out his hand and spoke softly again. “Why don't we go get some air and talk about this? I'll show you the other one later, after everyone's left—”

“Now, Drew!” I demanded.

He moved closer in front of me, “Lilly, please don't.”

I moved around him, insistent on finding it for myself. I scanned the plaques again and found it almost instantly.

“
Holding the Past”
was the title. I was already feeling touchy, today being the anniversary of Jesse's death. I didn't know if I could handle seeing another painting of us together. But I had to look; I had to know what it was.

The painting immediately took me aback when I focused on it. Sucking in a sharp breath, I moved away from it with my hand over my mouth. Seeing myself, with my cheek pressed up against the marble tombstone, was almost too much. Tears streamed down my face as the realism of the painting completely took me off guard. I nearly doubled over and lost my balance. Arms came around my back, hugging my waist as I stumbled to the table in front of me. I
peered up at the painting once more and gawked at it. It was if someone was standing just out of view and snapped a photo of the spaced-out, grief-stricken expression etched in my eyes. I was instantly transported to all those tortuous moments when I stood outside his private
mausoleum, my arms wrapped around
a marble column, praying that it was all just a dream, and that I'd wake up and he wouldn't be dead.

A sob erupted from deep inside, making my body shudder and I clasped my hand over my mouth in an attempt to smother it. Drew pulled me closer to him, trying to calm me down, but it was too late. I'd seen too much, the damage was done; the memories were dredged to the surface like a fresh wound. I twisted out of his arms and riveted my harsh, wild eyes on his.

“After everything I told you, everything I went through... how could you?” I cried.

Drew moved forward, his hand stretched out to mine. “Lilly, I'm sorry; it was never my intention for you to see them this way.”

“I don't care about your intentions,” I yelled. “How could you display my life, my innermost feelings for just anyone to observe like this? I trusted you with
the most vulnerable
part of me.”

There was nothing else I could say. I felt betrayed and used. Whether it was intentional or not didn't make any difference at the moment. That painting portrayed my sin. I was the reason Jesse was dead and it was more of a reality check than I could ever imagine. Peering past Drew, I saw everyone standing behind him. The room was at a standstill as everyone watched the scene between us unfold. I felt a fresh set of tears rolling down my face from sheer embarrassment. I stared at Drew. Swiping the tears from my wet cheek, I said, “I can't do this... I can't stay here.” I grabbed two handfuls of my dress and spun around for the door.

His fingers grazed my arm and I shrugged them off as I hurried away. My heart broke more when I heard him calling my name with a shaky voice. I turned back towards everyone again, half expecting time to carry on without me, but it didn't. The room remained silent. Steven stood in the middle of the floor, holding Drew back and telling him to just let me go. His arms fell limp at his sides and he stopped fighting his father's grasp, but watched me with pleading eyes. I couldn't handle it anymore. Not the sadness in his eyes, the embarrassment, or the hopeless pity on everyone's face. I couldn't handle what he did anymore than I could handle what
I
did. I turned and walked away without a glance behind me.

I practically ran to my car. I vaguely remember pushing through crowds of people, not stopping to respond when anyone tried to ask what was wrong. Unlocking my car door, I was thankful I didn't park in the VIP section, which would have meant waiting for it to be brought around, and giving Drew or someone else a chance to catch up with me. I refused to let that happen. Not tonight.

To think I thought I was handling the day well, better than I had ever coped with Jesse's passing before. But seeing those two paintings made my heart ache. I wanted to be near him again, and the only place to do that and be alone was the cemetery. It was getting late, the traffic would be non-existent, and I knew I could make it there in less than two hours. In the end, tonight would be no different than any other anniversary of Jesse's passing. Either way, I'd still be spending my night with him, and maybe his spirit could help me find peace.

The drive from the hotel to my apartment didn't take half as long as it did getting there, but only because I didn't remember most of it. My mind raced through everything that happened, and I replayed every bit of dialogue I could remember between Drew and me. I cried, thinking someone would bid on my paintings, and how unfair it was that they wouldn't let Drew have them back.

I jammed my key in the lock of my apartment door. The damn thing always seemed to find the most inappropriate times to malfunction, especially when I was in a hurry. Finally twisting the key just right, I managed to get the lock unstuck and plowed through my apartment, straight to my bedroom. Reaching under my bed, I pulled out a tote bag and started filling it with enough clothes for a couple of days. I threw in a few toiletries, in case I couldn't stay at home, or rather, if Dad wouldn't let me. Guess I'd find out when I got there.

I should have been exhausted from not enough sleep the previous night, or the constant running around I did just to get ready for tonight, but I wasn't. Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline, or the need to get as far away from my apartment before Drew tracked me down.
If
he found me. I could only imagine what he thought of me now, after the way I acted in front of him and his friends. He probably wouldn't even bother coming to see me. Why should he? I was a crazy girl, still grieving for her dead brother with a screwed-up family. Who would want that in his life? He'd be crazy to still want me and I'd be even crazier to expect him to.

Changing out of my gown, I tossed it across the bed and threw on a pair of jeans and a black tee shirt. The heels I wore were taking a toll on my feet, and it felt good to slip them into my tennis shoes. Grabbing my bag and purse, I turned the lights out and quietly pulled the door shut. I managed to return to my car in less than fifteen minutes.