Page 150

“No.”

“It’s my favorite part.”

It’s one of the parts I almost painted over.

By the time he moves on, Laura is several feet away talking to another guest about one of the paintings in the show. She isn’t hovering beside me or checking whether I need help answering questions.

More people stop as the evening goes on. Some want to know what materials I used or how long the painting took. A woman in a blue dress stands in front of it long enough that I begin wondering whether she’s waiting for me to say something. Finally, she asks, “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know.”

She laughs, then stops when she realizes I’m serious.

“I didn’t paint a meaning first,” I tell her.

Her expression turns thoughtful. “Then what did you paint?”

I look at the painting. “What happened.”

She studies the painting again. “I like that answer.”

So do I.

A moment later, Laura comes back to my side and looks at the card beside the painting.

“You named it Instead?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I look at the painting. “Because I thought it was going somewhere else.”

She studies it for a moment. “Do you wish it had?”

I used to. “No.”

Later, one of the gallery volunteers finds me near the doorway between the two rooms. “Someone would like to buy your painting.”

I’m not sure I heard her correctly. I look past her toward the red painting, still hanging on the wall with my name beside it.

“Tonight?”

“If you’re willing to sell it.”

The question should be easy. I came here knowing paintings at shows can sell, and I’ve already sold work before. But this one feels different.

I cross the room until I’m standing in front of it again. There are still places I could change. A few weeks ago, I would have.

I don’t want to fix it anymore.

I turn back to the volunteer. “How much?”

She tells me the offer. It’s more than Meredith paid for my first painting. Weeks ago the number itself would’ve meant nothing until Laura explained it to me. Now I understand exactly what it means.

I look at the painting one more time. I made it. I chose it. I put my name beside it. I don’t need to keep it to prove any of those things.

“Yes,” I say. “I’ll sell it.”