Still Life by Samms Jaime

Author:Samms, Jaime [Samms, Jaime]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

ICOULDN’Tactually look at the painting. I picked

up my scattered brushes and thanked whatever stupid impulse I’d had that I’d kept Mac’s ugly floor rug. It had protected the hardwood from the turpentine and splattered paint, at least.

I cleaned up, leaving my tools on the kitchen counter, and occupied myself by wandering the mall for the rest of the day, just to have something to do. Just to not be in that apartment reliving an argument I barely understood. Definitely, I spent way too much money on gifts Mac would love. Gifts I’d never get to give him, but I bought them anyway.

On the way home, I called my sister. “Hello?”

Mac had been right. I could tell it was Caroline, but she sounded completely different. Older. Grown.

“Hey, Cola. You actually picked up. You must not have caller ID.” An ear-shattering squeal greeted that, and I had to hold the phone away from my ear. The childhood nickname was a sure tip-off as to who I was, even if my voice was a little too rough and tight to sound like my own.

“Allen!” She made a rude noise in my ear. “If you’d ever called me in two years, I might have had your number for my phone to display, jackass.”

“You’re right.”

“And if you ever—wait. Did you just agree to me calling you a jackass?” “I did.”

“Oh dear.”

I let out a long sigh, and for a few heartbeats listened to silence.

“It would be nice if it was easy, fixing things with him, though, wouldn’t it be?” she asked. My heart just about stopped. How had I forgotten this about her? We weren’t twins, but we had always been as close as siblings could be who hadn’t shared their mother’s womb, and she could read me, even over the phone. She could get into my head and pick things out of it even I didn’t know were there.

“Cola….” She made a much softer noise—a chuckle maybe?—and let out a tiny sigh. “I knew it might not work, but I had to try. He was so miserable, and so are you.”

“How the hell would you know?”

Another long silence answered that question.

“I wasn’t miserable,” I said finally. “I was getting on with my life.” “Oh. So you have a boyfriend, then. Someone to look after you and make sure you eat? Someone to remind you that you’ve been up for twenty-four hours, and that you need to put the paintbrush down and have a glance out the window every now and then?”

I didn’t say anything. “Or—you’re skinny as shit, with bags under your eyes, and you’re drawing still lifes and pretending that makes you happy.”

“I hate you.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“He made me breakfast.” My throat closed, rendering anything else I might have said pointless. “So you two…?”

“No. We might have. But he left before we did. Then came back and made me breakfast.” She waited.

“Cola, I never said I wanted to fix anything.” “Jackass.”

“You don’t get it. A lot happened, okay? It wasn’t just the kiss.

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