Saturday, January 5, 2013

Clear and Bright: Chapter Thirty Two: Plans and Interpretations




"It's us, right?"

Jaimin stands transfixed in front of my last gift to him, like he's done every day since he opened it.

Our walls are no longer bare. Not completely, anyway... because I finally decided what should fill them.

I decided it should be us.

Different versions of us...

Different visions...

Like the one he looks at now...

Is captivated and mesmerized by...

That is but isn't.

Because I painted him mine. The one I was given. The one that made me come running back to him.

The vision of our future.

The one we'd create together if I fought hard enough.

The children running and laughing in the field of flowers...

My flowers.

The little boy and little girl...

Ours...

"It has to be us... little versions of us... "

"Well, who else would it be?" I ask him, wrapping my arms around him.

He doesn't answer me, just continues to stare at the future I couldn't not share with him anymore.

The one that I wanted us to see everyday.

Wake up to. And come home to. And never forget is waiting for us. Even though he doesn't know it is.

Instead of the past that he did.

Or the emptiness that replaced it when he let go of it.

Those little versions of us will keep us focused. Keep the laughter and the sunshine around us. Because I was shown that that was what our future held. If I let go...

"I can't stop looking at it," he tells me, "At them... "

Something I understand. Because I went back to that moment in my mind so many times...

The one I felt selfish keeping from him.

And the one that has taken his eyes from me because I stopped.

Something I'm not mad about... or jealous of...

Could never be...

Like my mother was...

Because I'm not her.

And because, even though he doesn't understand what little versions of us he's looking at... can't stop looking at...

The looking is beautiful.

It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"I love you, Jaimin."



                                                                         ~



"Do you want anything else, beautiful?"

Jaimin and I have just finished a late dinner of pizza - made by him, not ordered - the best pizza I've ever had in my life... that I ate four pieces of...

"Anything else? You're kidding, right? I'm so full right now, I'd probably even turn down you if you offered it."

"Should I test you? See how quickly I can prove that you just lied to me?"

"No."

"No?"

"No, please?"

"Have I told you lately how adorable you are?" he asks, kissing the tip of my nose.

"No."

"Well, you are. And okay. Tell me again how it was the best you ever had and I'll let it go."

"It was the best pizza I ever had. Like everything else you've ever made for me. Or given me. Or-"

"Adorable suck up."

"See? Your pizza was so good that I'm even too full to run through that door you just left wide open."

"A compliment to my skills, indeed."

"It is."

"Well, thank you, sweetheart. And go get comfortable on the couch, because now I want to focus on yours."

"You mean sit and stare at your present?"

"I love my present."

"I hoped you would."

"You knew I would."

"What I know is that you think I'm brilliant. With a brush in my hand and a canvas in front of me."

"Because you are."

"I'm honored that you think so."

"Everyone thinks so, Claire. Not just me. And that's what I want to focus on."

We spent the day on our street, the one where we both have a place. And even though we should have spent it separately, we spent it anything but.

Because my place is right across our street from his. And he has a key to it. And used it repeatedly because he couldn't focus in his when I was so close.

And because there were men there working.

Making the changes I wanted. And making him crazed...

I wasn't there alone with them, Emilie was there with me, but Jaimin is Jaimin, so...

"Focus on how exactly?"

"You owe me a story."

"A story?"

"Yes. The one about the day you sold your first painting. The one you never told me, because your little pink shorts distracted you."

"Distracted who?"

"Go get comfortable, Claire."

"Should I put them on? My little pink shorts? Because they are really comfortable... Of course, you'd have to tell me where you're hiding them first... so I could... "

"No, you shouldn't. Which is why I'm not  going to tell you where I'm hiding them. Because if you knew where that was, I know they wouldn't stay there, regardless of what I said."

"Should I pretend I'm not hurt by your lack of trust in me? Which, in my interpretation, seems really unfair since I haven't even tried to find them. Haven't looked, so much as a single time... "

"I never want you to pretend anything with me. And I do trust you. To know that. And that it's never my intention to be unfair. Or hurt you in any way."

"I do know that."

"I hope so."

"I do. But not something else."

"Not something else?"

"No, not something else."

"Well, I don't want you not to know anything. Provided the something you want to know is good for you. So, what don't you know? That you'd clearly like me to tell you?"

"Why you're still hiding them?"

"You know why, Claire."

"No... I know why you were. And why you did. But not why you still are. Because, unlike when you took them from me, and hid them, now you've seen everything there is to see. Of me. And had it. All...

"And taken care of it. Loved it. Masterfully... and-"

"I hear you, Claire."

"Good. So, why? Why haven't you given them back yet?"

"That's a good question. Now that you've asked it. And so eloquently pointed out why you shouldn't have to."

"Thank you. And your answer is?"

"I don't have one."

"You don't?"

"No, I don't. And don't you look so shocked."

I laugh and wrap my arms around him, and kiss him sweetly on the lips. "So, can I have them back now?"

"I want my story, Claire. Giving them back to you now will no doubt ensure that I won't get it. Again."

"Fair enough. Because you're probably right about that."

"There's no probably about it."

"Then, how about after I bore you?"

"You could never bore me."

"I hope not. And will try to never... So, yes?"

"Yes. I will give them back to you after you don't."

"Okay, then I'll go get comfortable. As comfortable as I can, anyway, without my most comfortable thing."

"Should I pretend I'm not hurt that your most comfortable thing isn't me?"

"No, you absolutely should not. Or be hurt at all. Because you're not a thing. And you are. Usually, before you interpret that as a lie."

He smiles at me and gives me a thankful squeeze, and then a playful swat, accompanied by a mush-inducing wink... before pulling himself away from me and leaving me to sturdy it out alone. "Go. I'll be right behind you with the wine. Your favorite, to be exact."

"Okay," I tell him, and since it was his intent to take my legs from me, drop to my hands and knees and crawl away from him. Since he said he'd be right behind me...

"God help you, Claire... "

Ditto, Mr. Guillory... because I'm getting my little pink shorts back!



                                                                         ~




"Comfortable?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now START TALKING."

"OKAY. Well... I really suck at stories."

"CLAIRE."

"Alright! Um... okay... Well... I visited the gallery often, had ever since my grandparents first took me there. Both to see the Bouchards, and as just a young artist fascinated by the images brought to life by other creative hands.

"They always talked to me when I was there... the Bouchards, I mean. About art and so many other things. But one thing they always said... always told me...was that my passion gave everything new meaning. More...

"One day when I was there, they offered me a job. They said the light followed me in the door each time I came in, but that I took it with me when I left. They told me they wanted it to stay. See it everyday instead of just once in a while. I was touched, of course... like I was on my birthday when he gave me that beautiful gift... that maybe now you understand...

"Anyway... I told them I wasn't qualified to do anything, was just a girl in love with art... but they said I was wrong about that and that I was exactly what they needed. And that I would learn the rest.

"I accepted - after very little thought, or none - and it changed my life. They'd often asked me to show them something, but, as you know, I never shared that part of me with anyone. Not at all at that time. Only my grandparents had ever seen my work, and only what I chose to show them.

"I painted something for Mrs. Bouchard and gave it to her for her birthday, a story she'd told me. It had stayed with me, left pictures in my mind... I didn't know if I would get them right, if what I imagined was what it had looked like to her, but she cried when I gave it to her. They stared at it open-mouthed and said I had a gift. They begged me to bring something in. I was nervous, but the next day I chose something randomly and took it with me. They hung it immediately, in the featured place, the first thing you saw when you came in. About an hour later I was rearranging some artwork in the rear area of the gallery - they gave me free reign in that - when they called me to come up front.

"There was a problem, they said. When I reached the front, there were a group of people crowded around my painting. They were arguing over it. Mrs. Bouchard told them I was the artist and it was the only piece we had and it had only just been hung. A gentleman asked me if I had other paintings. I said yes, I had many. He said he wanted to see. Mrs. Bouchard asked me if I would go home a get a few pieces, that perhaps we could solve our problem. The gentleman said he would wait. They all wanted to wait. 

"I was stunned. I went home and entered my studio, a special space my grandparents had given me as a surprise. I stood there helpless, I didn't know what to choose. There were so many... I hadn't put any thought into what I had taken with me that morning, I just grabbed something. What did they want? I had no idea. But I couldn't waste time thinking about it, people were waiting for me. I chose seven paintings. I would take them in through the back and let them decide if any were worthy of showing anyone. I didn't know if they were. I didn't know how I would feel if they weren't. I'd always painted for myself.

"When I got back, Mr. Bouchard unloaded them from my car and told me my life was about to change. And he was right. It did... because the day I sold my first painting, was also the day - never to be repeated - that I sold eight.

"And that's really it. Nothing extraordinary or anything. The story, I mean. Sorry you waited so long for it."

"I'm not. And you're wrong, Claire... it is extraordinary. You are. Something that, as someone who owns many of your visions, did before I met you, and gets to see them all now,  and you... all of... I already knew."



                                                                         ~



"You have no plans at all?"

"Not yet, no."

"None?"

"No... "

"Well, don't you think you should start? Making some?"

"Mom... leave her alone."

"Be quiet, Jaimin. Go cook something or... something. I'm talking to Claire."

"No, you're badgering her, and now you're going to stop."

"Weddings take time to plan. A lot of time. And the wedding of the century will take even-"

"The wedding of the century?" I ask her, cutting her off while I still have a voice left to do it with.

"Well, of course it is, Claire. And if it's going to happen in this one, we'd better get started. Thank God you have me... Now, first-"

"I need to get the gallery opened," I tell her, cutting her off again.

"And aren't you only weeks away from doing that?"

Not if I don't decide on a name... "Yes, if all goes according to plan."

"So, that  you've made plans for?"

"Well, of course I have... "

"Yet none for the biggest day of your life?"

"None yet, Caressa. But that day isn't going anywhere. And those plans will be easy, so-"

"Easy? Oh, honey... you've clearly never planned a wedding before. And that day may not be going anywhere, but the date will if you don't book it. So, what is it? And where do you want to have it? The wedding? And the reception after? Because I'm sure you at least know that, have probably always known what that perfect place is... We need to call right away and see if it's available... "

"I already know that it is."

Because she's right. I do know what that perfect place is. Even though I hadn't given it a moment's thought yet...

A moment is all I needed to know. This one. "No matter what date we choose."

"Claire, you can't possibly know that... especially if you haven't even picked a date yet... "

"She said she does," Jaimin tells her, "Like I said LEAVE HER ALONE. So, listen."

"Well, then where is this place?" she asks him, instead of me, because she's listening to him. For now...

"I don't know," is his answer, because he doesn't. Because we haven't discussed it. "But wherever it is is where she wants, so it doesn't matter that I don't yet. She'll have it."

"And what if where she wants it isn't where you want it, my darling I want everything my way son?"

"Anywhere she wants to marry me is where I want her to. Nothing could be more my way than that, I assure you. Mother."

"Thank you," I whisper, and rest my head on his shoulder.

"No, sweetheart... thank you."



                                                                           ~



"What a beautiful sight to come home to," Jaimin muses as he comes through our door. He takes his coat off quickly and comes to kiss me, smiling down at me after he does. "How are my girls?"

I sit Alice down next to Little Claire beside me and give him a half smile, because it's all I can muster. "We're okay."

"Just okay?" he asks, sitting down beside me, concern in his eyes.

"Well, we're good, but exhausted. Mentally, anyway... "

"I might understand that if I'd been home... mentally exhausting you... but I wasn't, so I don't. What's wrong, Claire?"

"Nothing's wrong, exactly... and I think something is even finally right... maybe... "

"And I'd love to hear what that is, but I want to hear what isn't first. Exactly. Talk to me."

"It's just... Your mother is relentless."

He grabs my hand, the one that wears my promise to him - which he seems to know is exactly why I'm exhausted - and sighs. "What did she do now? Do I have to kill her? Should I put my coat back on?"

"No, you'd have to leave me again to do that, and I want you here. She was just bombarding me today... with ideas... for everything. She really does think ours will be the wedding of the century."

"Our wedding will be what you want it to be, Claire. Nothing more and nothing less. I promise."

"I want it to be ours."

"I know."

"She doesn't."

"Yes, she does. But she'll be reminded, or tied up and gagged until it's over."

"You don't have to go that far... just the gag, maybe. Though she already has been. For tonight, at least. Sort of."

"And how is that?"

"Well, she stopped showing up here, after, I think, the fourth time she did...? But then she called me... and called me... and called me... and when I was to the point of going out to buy a sledgehammer to smash my phone to bits with, I sent your dad a text. A HELP ME text. And your sister, just in case he wasn't home. And then the calls stopped. So... "

"You could have called me. Or sent me that text. Or told me face to face what had been going on all day when you came to the restaurant for dinner."

"Yes, I could have. But you were swamped and seemed irritated already when I saw you. And I didn't want to give you anything else to be irritated with. And if I would have sent you that text, it would have scared you. I knew they would understand it."

"You're right, it would have scared me."

"I know. And I didn't want to do that. Ever again."

"So... what else is right? Besides that?"

"I think I finally decided on a name. For the gallery. That is... unless you think it's too silly... "

"I could never think it was silly, Claire... if it's something you want. But... like something else you've decided on... I'd really like to know what it is. That perfect name. And place."

I hope you don't, Jaimin... either of them. "Well, I think I'd like to name the gallery... "



                                                                          ~



"It's great to finally earn some of the money you've been paying me. "

"Don't be ridiculous, Emilie, you've earned every penny."

"We both know that's not true."

"I know no such thing. Only that I adore you, and do even more for you sticking by me. A recommendation from me could have gotten you a job in any gallery in France, yet you were still willing to wait for me. I'll never forget that."

"I love working for you, Claire. I'd never want to work for anyone else."

"With me. And thank you. Now, get out of here."

"Are you sure?" she asks, but then sees Jaimin and quickly grabs her coat. "You're really quiet... and forget my question, Claire. Goodnight!"

We both call out our own goodnights, but our eyes are on eachother. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"With you?"

"What?"

"You told her that she works with you."

"She does."

"You're about to open your own business, Claire. And the people who work for  you should understand that they do."

"It's Emilie... "

"I know that. And I know that you're very fond of that girl, but she's still an employee. Don't put her, or anyone else, on even ground with you."

"Well, Mr. Guillory... you can handle your business your way, and I'll handle mine my way. But thank you, as always, for your tyrannical advice."

"You should hurry up and kiss me, Claire... and do it well... and pray that it makes me forget about your smart mouth."

"Are you implying that I don't always do it well?"

"You know damn well I'm not."

"So, really, you just want a kiss?"

"The longer it takes you, the harder it will be to erase my memory."

I slink over to him as slowly as I can, his devilish smirk only encouraging me to take my time. Which is exactly what I'll do when my lips meet his.

My lips that don't appreciate my game. Because they want to play his. Because they know how lucky they are to be invited to.

Told...

By his...

That spread into a grin as he shakes his head at me.

And then take over mine as soon as I'm close enough for him to reach out and grab me. Slam me against him. And show me, I think, how to be a boss.

Something that, lucky for us - my lips and I - is a thorough and lengthy demonstration of his expertise.

Seriously... so lucky...

"What was it that I was supposed to try to make you forget?" I ask breathlessly as his lips leave mine, only to move down to my neck.

"I don't remember," he whispers against my skin. "Nor do I care."

"Good. Because I forgot."

"I should think so."

"Mmm-hmmm... " I wonder if Emilie locked the door...

And I'm about to wonder it out loud when I feel a chill. Because his warm mouth has left me. And the rest of him... except for his voice that didn't, but that's too far away now. "You got a lot done since I was here earlier."

I follow his eyes as they take in our afternoon's accomplishments. "Well, we were here to work. As you said, I'm about to open my own business."

"And you're ready, it would appear. As soon as your sign is in place."

"Nearly, yes. And I definitely will be by the time it is. Which will be much sooner than I thought... thanks to you, of course."

"Well, the time frame you were given was unacceptable. I merely expressed that to him."

"Ensuring that I was given a new one."

"Yes."

Well, since we've switched gears... "And, though I know unintentional, causing me a different time-related problem."

"What problem?"

"How on earth am I going to find someone to cater the opening on such short notice? Someone good, I mean."

"EXCUSE ME?"

"What?"

"WHAT?"

"Yes, what? What did I say? And why do you look like you want to kill me?"

"Well, I don't know, Claire... why would I?"

"Jaimin, I honestly don't know. I'm just trying to tell you that-"

"That my food is good enough to sustain you on a daily basis, but NOT good enough for your opening."

"What?! I said no such thing! And never would. That's preposterous!"

"Interpretation, Claire."

"Yours has left planet normal!"

"I don't think it has."

"You're not a caterer, Jaimin."

"I'M SURE AS HELL NOT."

"And I would never insult you by asking you to do such a thing. You don't do events... or openings... or anything of the sort. You'd NEVER do it. Because it's beneath you. And-"

"YOUR opening is not just any event, Claire. And you DID insult me by even considering that anyone BUT me would be good enough to serve it."

"Well, I didn't mean to."

He doesn't say anything, only looks at me, and I waste no time this time in going to him. "I don't have an umbrella... or a suit of armor or anything... to protect myself with...  I only have me... and my mouth... so I'm asking you... to please consider... hear me when I tell you... that your interpretation, in this case, is wrong.

"And to please calm down. And know... that I  know... could never not... that NO ONE but you could make my opening perfect. But that the only way I even considered that you would so honor me in doing that... was to be by my side. Be with me. And not working. Certainly not for."

"You're not calling a caterer."

"Okay. I never wanted to have to."

"Ever again."

"No."

"For anything."

"Of course not. I have you."

"Yes, you do."

"I know."

"Don't forget that, Claire."

"I won't. Ever again, I promise. And that I know how lucky I am."

"Well, I don't know about that... "

"I do."

"What did you say?"

"You heard me."

"I know, but I want to hear you say it again."

"You will."

"But when? Can we talk about it? And will you finally tell me where?"

"Sure... now that all of my other plans have been made. But I only have one answer... that will give you both of yours."

"Tell me."

"You may have to trust your interpretation to understand... "

"Does that mean you do?"

"It does."

"Then I will. Tell me, please."

"You'll hear me say it again... just as soon as my flowers bloom."