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“That’s what I keep telling myself. Maybe in another eighteen months, I’ll be able to go through his office,” I say with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Don’t do that.”
The seriousness of his voice causes me to snap my gaze from the painting to him. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t act like what you’re dealing with isn’t hard. It’s one of the hardest things someone has to go through. If it takes you another eighteen months to go through his office, so be it. But I don’t think it will.” The confidence his voice holds makes me feel more inspired to do just that.
Ansel exerts the perfect mix of pressure and motivation to keep me moving forward.
Caleb wouldn’t want you to live like this.
Apparently, Ansel has the perfect words too, because that sentence has been running in my head since he said it.
“Thank you, Ansel.” I meet his gaze. “Thanks for doing this with me even though it’s not really your thing. It’s been nice to get out of my head and do something I enjoy for a while tonight.”
He smiles at me. “That’s what friends are for.”
We finish our paintings and thank Rebecca for her tutelage before we leave with the paintings in hand.
Once we’re outside in the cold winter air, Ansel looks down at his. “What do you think? Throw it out or set it on fire?”
I laugh. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.”
His eyebrows raise. “You’re nice, but it looks like a kindergartener painted it.” He nods toward mine. “Yours is amazing, though.”
I glance at my own. “It really is.”
The two of us laugh at my lack of being humble.
“This class is something I’ve always wanted to do. I didn’t realize I might actually be good at it.”
“I’m feeling a little inferior. I think I get to pick the next activity, choose something I know I’ll be better at.” He smiles. Ansel is always smiling. It’s nice.
“You’re still willing to tag along with me even after I dragged you here tonight?”
“Not sure if you noticed, but I have a pretty big ego. It can afford to take a few hits.”
I chuckle. “I’m parked here.” I motion toward my SUV on the other side of the street. “Well… have a good night.”
“All right, drive safe. We’ll talk soon.” He waves and walks down the street.
I watch him for a moment before I cross Main Street over to my SUV.
Tonight turned out better than I expected, and I have Ansel to thank for that.
TEN
Collins
Iride the wave of positive energy after the painting class, deciding to tackle Caleb’s office. Sure, I have more of his belongings to go through in our bedroom and bathroom, but the office will be a lot of work, so I might as well get started.
Even when Caleb was alive, I didn’t come in here much. It was his man cave. His computer that he used to pay and organize not only our bills but also his side company’s every month. All his books are stacked on the bookshelves, and a TV is mounted above the fireplace, a couch with two chairs on either side facing it. A dark wood desk scattered with papers faces the entry.
I can’t remember the last time I stepped in here. Maybe six months ago. One day I just closed the door and didn’t go back inside because it was so painful.
The rest of the house is heavily influenced by my decorating style, but this is all Caleb—dark, almost antique-looking furniture, an ornate area rug, and heavy maroon drapery hanging beside the windows. Everything is covered with a thin layer of dust, and guilt coats for not taking better care of his favorite room in the house.
I’m not even sure where to start. Not sure what I’ll use this space for once I clear out Caleb’s things. But that’s a decision for another day.
