Page 6 of The Artist

Alexis set out soup bowls and spoons, then brought over the tureen of tomato soup and ladled the hot liquid into the bowls before getting the sandwiches.She dished up the sandwiches directly from the skillet and set one on each plate before returning the skillet to the gas stove.

For the next few minutes, silence reigned while they dug into the hot meal.

Alexis broke the silence.“I heard on the news yesterday that you’d disappeared.What do you plan on doing now that you’veescaped?”

He wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin and looked toward the window.“I don’t know, really.I just knew I needed to get away.”

“I can understand that, though I’ve never hated something so much I just ran away.”She thought for a moment.“That’s not completely true.I ran, but I was runningtosomething, not away from it, when I opened my gallery.”

“Yes, but what did you escape to do it?”

Alexis looked out the window next to the door.The storm was still raging probably would all night.She shivered when she considered his luck at finding her home.

She rested her elbows on the table and clasped her hands under her chin.“My husband, Jim, died from cancer.At first, it was just lung cancer, though he had many more cancers present when he actually passed.On the June 29th,our fifth wedding anniversary, he was in incredible pain, and the Percocet and the morphine he’d been prescribed weren’t helping.So, he went to the hospital by ambulance because I couldn’t get him to the car by myself.

“We spent about ten hours in the ER while they took X-rays and CT scans.Finally, he was sent to ICU and it was very late, so I went home, something I will always regret.Anyway, the next morning when I arrived, the doctor was waiting.He said between the CT scan the previous night and the one just three weeks prior, the lung cancer had spread to fill his lung and he now had cancer in his bones, his spine and his lymph nodes.On top of that, he had several broken ribs and his kidneys were shutting down.The doctor flat-out said he was dying, and there was nothing they could do but make him comfortable.He was in incredible pain.Jim said to the doctor, ‘Suicide.Where do I sign?’I placed him into hospice there at the hospital.They didn’t even transfer him to another room.He stayed in the ICU.For a day and a half, he was mostly asleep, as that was the only time he was pain free.At 2:15 AM, on July 1st, he passed away.I was devastated.Jim was my everything.”

She didn’t realize silent tears rolled down her cheeks.“I didn’t know how I was going to survive without him.”

His lips were in a straight line and his eyebrows slightly furrowed.“I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“When Jim passed, I was lucky.I had wonderful neighbors, who were friends, actually.They took care of me.They worked on my sprinklers, helped me change the batteries in the smoke detectors, all the things that Jim used to do.One of them, a wonderful woman named Kara, came and sat with me every night for months.We’d sit on the front porch and just talk for hours.”

“Another of my friends came and helped me shovel out the house because we were this close,” she placed her index finger over her thumb with just a hair’s breadth between them.to becoming hoarders.After she and I were done, I could live in my house and not be afraid of having people over to see what a mess it was.

“Anyway, after Jim died, my father let me mourn for about six weeks before he began pushing me to join him in his firm.He’s a CPA.So, I threw myself into all the classes he and Mom wanted me to and I took art classes on the side, unbeknownst to them.When it came time for me to join him, I just couldn’t.Doing that would have killed everything good inside me.I would have hated it, and it wouldn’t have taken long for the rest of the world to know how much I hated my job and, by extension, myself.”She added softly.“Then, not even a year later, I escaped what would have been a bad second marriage.He was the son of my father’s partner, so my dad was all for the marriage.”Her shoulders slumped.“I ran rather than marry a man I didn’t love.”

“Do you want to talk about that?”

She sighed and rubbed her hands down her face.“Well, we are getting to know each other, so why not?Jim died about six years ago.A year later, I was out with some friends when a man approached me and asked for a dance.I’d promised myself when Jim died I would sayyesto at least one thing a week.This was myyesfor that week.”

“I take it you began dating?”

She nodded.“At first, it was just lunches, or maybe coffee in the morning.Then it was dinners and sleepovers.He wanted to move in with me but for some reason I didn’t let him and I’m so glad I listened to my gut.”

Peter reached over and took her hand in his.He squeezed it gently.“How did you find out that he was cheating and stealing from you?”

“The cheating I discovered by accident…mostly.I was searching his phone for a text he’d sent me and that I accidently erased, with the address of a shop I needed to go to.In addition to the text I wanted, I found the texts to and from his girlfriend.He’d been carrying on with her the entire time he was dating me.The stealing was harder to find and I didn’t figure it out until after we’d broken up.I got a bill from a credit card company.I knew I hadn’t been using the card, so couldn’t figure out how I could have a bill.Apparently, he got my number and was using it to buy things online.”She stopped and breathed through the anger that was building inside her.

“He was just using me.I think he thought he could get me to move in and I would pay all the bills.He’s a gallery owner, too, and art galleries up here don’t do that well without an angle.”She looked him straight in the eyes.“Like a new, unknown painting by Peter Kincaid.I’m not too proud to ask you for what I need to survive.”

Peter was quiet for a moment.“So you took art classes and you must paint or draw, right?”

Okay.She’d let him change the topic.She’d revealed enough of her past anyway.But she was just so comfortable with Peter.She felt like she’d known him for a long time, probably because she’d followed his career for years.“Just a little.Nothing appropriate for my gallery.”

“Can I see them?”

She shook her head.“They are not nearly good enough for you to see either.They’re just some puttering I do when I’m alone.”

He smiled.

Her stomach twittered and tied itself into knots.

“Come on.Let me see.”He winked.“I’m sure they’re good.You don’t strike me as a person who does anything halfway.”

She sighed.“Okay, but don’t be too hard on me.”Alexis stood and went to her bedroom.She returned in a few minutes with three canvases.Showing them one at a time to Peter, she held her breath, waiting for his criticism.

Her work was raw,emotional, and haunting—filled with the kind of vulnerability Peter hadn’t seen in years.He recognized the kind of talent that couldn’t be taught, only survived.After a few minutes, he looked up.“They’re good.Very good.”