“Let me see the other one.” She took the second canvas and pulled the sheet off a landscape I’d been painting off and on for a few months.
“I used some photos I took on a day there were storm clouds over Sydney Harbour as inspiration.” She held the canvas to the light at different angles as she inspected it, but didn’t say anything, so I kept on talking. “I paint in a modern impressionist style—I love to play with how the light falls, and with exaggerating certain elements slightly to get the emotional effect I want.”
“This is really good,” Noela said, still examining the painting. “I’m more a sculptor than a painter, but I can recognize talent.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling a blush creep up my neck to my cheeks.
Noela set the canvas down and leaned back against a workbench. “So, what are your plans for your art?”
“No real plans. It’s a hobby. I’m studying to be an accountant.” I paused, almost waiting for Finn to call me on that, but Finn wasn’t here. He wouldn’t be calling me on that or anything else anymore. So I called myself on it. “Well, officially I am, but I’ve taken some time off.”
Her gaze said she hadn’t missed the undertones in front of her. “Do you like accounting?”
“I like it enough. Some aspects are fun. But, to be honest, I need a regular paycheck and the arts as a career can be unstable. I’m just not built for that.”
She tapped her lips with a finger as she considered. “Have you thought about teaching?”
“Here?” I asked, looking around. It looked like a fun place but I didn’t have enough experience.
“High schools. Your subject areas could be art and math. You might even get some credit from accounting subjects towards your Bachelor of Education.”
A school teacher? That seemed a bit random. “Why would you think of me teaching?”
She shrugged. “It would combine your two interests, give you a regular pay check, and I think you’re a natural. I saw you helping Finn during the silversmithing workshop, and by the end of the night, a couple of others had asked for your help as well.”
Teaching. I’d never thought about it as a career before, but there was something appealing about it. I’d enjoyed helping the others in the workshop, and even training Billie for my old job. Plus, Amelia was high school age and I got on well with her.
Teaching had always been Finn’s area—ironic that he wanted to leave it for fieldwork just when I started thinking about taking it up. Of course, he’d be great at whatever he did. Teaching, fieldwork, kissing. Making mojitos. Sex. Making me laugh. Kissing.
A tidal wave of grief rose up and threatened to swamp me just as Noela asked me some more questions about the paintings and I focused back on her. I stayed another ten minutes, talking about art and teaching, but I didn’t want to impose too much on her time. She’d already been generous, and given me a lot to think about.
And whether or not I decided to follow her suggestion of teaching, having something else to think about while I was struggling to make it through each day without Finn was just what the doctor ordered.
Pulling my new scarf more tightly around my neck, I walked into the school auditorium and looked for Billie…and Finn. Amelia’s dance concert was due to start in about fifteen minutes, but I knew they’d be there already.
I was a bundle of nerves, but hoped to cover it by keeping my hands in my pockets and avoiding talking when I could, since both my hands and voice had taken up trembling tonight. Finn would see through me, of course. He always did.
It had been two weeks since I’d seen him. Two weeks without my best friend. Two weeks without the man I loved. Cathy had been great about letting me stay—and letting me talk—but inside I felt broken.
Amelia had called a few days ago to ask if I was still coming to her concert, and even though I’d forgotten all about it, I’d said of course I was. She’d said they’d bought me a ticket and Billie would bring it to work.
The auditorium had rows of chairs set up, some filled already, but others empty, and a whole heap of people milling around, chatting. Billie stood up from her seat and waved. I gave her a quick wave back and, taking deep breaths to calm myself, walked in their direction.
When I was a few rows away, Finn turned and saw me. He stood, watching my progress. He was so tall and solemn and beautiful and sad, and everything inside me screamed, mine! But he wasn’t. Tears pressed at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them emerge.
Billie jumped out and hugged me. “Scarlett, I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve saved you a seat.”
They had three together, and Billie was sitting in the middle. I wondered if that had been her idea or his.
“Hey, Scarlett,” Finn said. “Nice scarf.”
His voice seemed to travel though me, finding all the places I ached for him and bringing them to life.
I looked down at the lumpy yellow scarf with its dropped stitches and uneven rows. “Amelia made it.”
“I thought I recognized the handiwork.” One corner of his mouth hitched in an imitation of a smile.
We all sat down, and luckily Billie talked enough for all three of us. It wasn’t her normal mode of conversation, so she was clearly trying to make things easier for Finn and me, bless her. It was even working—to an extent. It just felt so wrong to be so close and not be able to hug him hello, or lean in and tell him a joke, or sit in companionable silence instead of having Billie covering with her stream of observations about the crowd around us and things that had happened at work today.
I glanced up at Finn and found him staring at me, oblivious to Billie’s story about the guy who’d thought he’d been ringing a pizza delivery place.
Everything inside me yearned for him, wanted him, needed him. Logically I knew the feeling had to lessen eventually—supposedly time heals all wounds—but right now, it had only grown stronger since I’d last seen him. The tears came back and this time I couldn’t hold them back. I felt them sting my eyes, then one slipped free. I caught it before it ran down my face, but Finn saw. His face crumpled, the pain in his eyes from knowing I was on the verge of crying made me want to comfort him and make all his pain go away.
Then the lights went down and the concert started. Amelia was amazing in her solo dance. As soon as the spotlight hit her, she had an internal glow and a buzz around her. It was like she was made for the stage.
Amelia’s was the only dance I properly watched. For the rest of the concert I watched Finn in my peripheral vision. He seemed tense, and sad, and that hurt as much as the ache of missing him.
As soon as the lights came up and the applause died down, Billie jumped out of her seat. “Finn and I are going to wait outside for Amelia to get changed. Do you want to wait with us so she can say hi?”
I hadn’t thought about her needing to get changed. In my idea of how the night would go, she’d come out straight away, in costume, and I’d give her the present I’d brought with me, hug her, and go home. Quickly. But I couldn’t leave without seeing her.
“That would be great,” I said to Billie. “Thanks.”
We filed out of the auditorium with all the other people and found a quiet spot on a paved area off to the side.
“Oh, there’s Sasha,” Billie said. “We went to school together. You know, I thought that was her little sister in the fairy costume. I’m just going to duck over and say hi.” And she was gone.
We both watched her go. Finn dug his hands in his pockets. I wrapped a hand around my throat, dying by degrees, with no idea what to say.
“How are you?” he eventually said.
“I’m good.” Which seemed inadequate, as if I was purposely withholding information, so I added, “I’ve transferred my degree over to a Bachelor of Education. I start next semester.”
His eyes lit. “That’s great. I didn’t know you wanted to be a teacher.”
“To be honest,” I said, shifting my weight to the other leg, “it had never occurred to me. But I dropped in to see Noela, the artist who taught the silversmithing workshop, to show her some of my work. She suggested teaching high school, specializing in math and art.”