The Shadows Behind by Kristi Petersen Schoonover

Author:Kristi Petersen Schoonover [Schoonover, Kristi Petersen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780997932966
Publisher: Books & Boos Press
Published: 2019-04-30T04:00:00+00:00

MUJINA

I find the painting at a tag sale, and know I have to have it. It’s a lush watercolor of a deadly curve on the Hana Highway on the other side of the island, a curve I navigated twice a day on my commute to Kihei, a curve just beyond the home we had to leave because of the injuries I sustained in the accident.

The waist-high canvas rests against a dilapidated bamboo chair. An ozone-laden breeze tells me if I’m going to buy this painting, I’d better do it soon—gray clouds bloom above the big mountain; lightning strikes pound the summit, and there are distant rumbles of thunder.

Across the Manilagrass under the palms, a plump, aging woman in a yellow blouse and turquoise earrings sits on a low stool. She shakes her head as she dickers over a jeweled box with a woman in a white pantsuit.

A raindrop.

I rest my weight on my cane, and with my free hand lean the painting toward me. Despite its resting against the damp cushion stuffing cauliflowering through a rip, the canvas’s brown paper backing is pristine, marred only by a fluorescent orange sticker which indicates she’s asking a hundred dollars.

“Gala?” asks Lani. She works at our art gallery and insisted on being my driver once I was released from the hospital. She appears beside me and tucks a strand of her long coffee hair behind her ear. “You really like this?”

I’m not sure whether like is the right word, so I’m slow to answer. “I do.”

“Well the strokes are exquisite, but . . . are you sure? I mean, wouldn’t this . . . bring back bad memories?”

I can’t remember anything from the night of the accident; my last memory is of drinking a glass of wine by our pool. “Maybe that’s what I need.”

Lani protests, but I’m already hobbling across the grass to Yellow Blouse, the blades pricking my bare ankles. She is Japanese. Her face is round and wrinkled; I can see that those wrinkles aren’t necessarily from age or even from the Hawaiian sun.

Another raindrop.

“The painting over there.” I motion with my head.

The woman rises on wobbly knees. “What painting?”

“The one against the chair.”

She hobbles too. I wonder what, because of my damaged leg, my gait will be like when I get to be that age. I’ve already put on twenty pounds due to lack of mobility.

“Mama, where are you going?” A young woman in a red shift and a carved wooden hair ornament rushes to Yellow Blouse’s side. “I told you I would handle anything like this.”

“Paintings.” Yellow Blouse’s brow is creased and her mouth is smashed into a grimace. “I told you not to put out any of her paintings!”

“I know you did, but we . . . we have more than we can fit on the walls, Mama.”

Despite the uneven ground I beat Yellow Blouse to the painting and wedge myself between them. “I’ll give you one fifty.”

“It’s not for sale,” the woman spits.

“Mama,” Red Shift says.

“It. Is.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.