Page 20 of Break Me Beautifully
He doesn't answer. His head is low, eyes forward.
"Marshall."
He snaps a quick side-eye at me. "What?"
"Is something wrong? Did you see something?"
"No. It's nothing." He shakes his head, but doesn't bother to smile, not even a fake one. Fingers clutch my heart. I'm sure something is off. I look behind me, scanning the cheerful faces, searching for some hint.
"In here," he says, darting into a brightly lit store. The scent of paint hits me hard. The shelves are stuffed with canvases in perfect alignment, and tubes of every color stick out of trays from floor to ceiling. It's one of the bigger art stores I've seen.
Marveling at the selection, I say, "I don't know what I need to buy for the show." Marshall doesn't reply; he's staring out the door at the mall. "Hey, did you hear me?"
"Yeah. Just get a cart and fill it up."
"I said I don't know what I need. That's your job, right? You're supposed to guide me." Marshall doesn't pretend he's listening. I jab him in the side with a finger, making him jump, eyes widening. "Guide. Me." I pronounce each word crisply.
Some tension melts from his face. With a tired smile, he nods at the wall. "Pick twelve canvases, any size. Then get enough of whatever medium you prefer. Watercolors, I'm assuming?"
I'm pleased he remembers. "Okay. I'll load things up." He starts to look out the door, I poke him again. "Whatever is going on, you can tell me."
Marshall lets out a slow breath. Ruffling his own hair, he says, "No. I can't. Go, shop."
Reluctantly I grab a cart, dropping my bag with the dress inside. I eyeball the canvases on the wall. I'm out of my element, but when I think about the gallery I saw today, I remember there was no clear rule about what size any of the art was. It ranged from small to huge.Go with your gut.I choose a couple of canvases that are my height and hoist them in the cart. I pack it until I have half large and half medium sized canvases.
Picking paint is harder. I'm feeling the pressure of planning my first—potentially my last—gallery show. I touch some green trays, then recoil, making for the pinks before retreating again. Clenching my empty hand, I sigh. "I don't know how to choose. I don't even know what I'm going to paint yet. Marshall, any advice? Marshall?"
I half-turn, searching for him from the corner of my eye. He's not standing by the door. My heart ratchets up as I whip my head side to side to survey the whole store and panic sets in. Marshall is gone.
Abandoning my cart I walk quickly to the exit, brushing past shoppers who laugh as they enter. I look through the sea of faces one by one, trying to pick out Marshall's distinctive eyes, or the shape of his wide shoulders in his dark jacket.
There's a flash of a familiar jaw—I see him.
Marshall is standing deep in the crowd, half hidden behind the garland-wound pillar extending from floor to ceiling. I start towards him, his name on my lips.
He's not alone.
His head is bent so he can talk to whoever is with him. I can't see their face, not even their hair since it's tucked under a woven red winter hat. The white noise of the mall melts in my ears until I hear nothing but a muffled warble. Who is he talking to?
Marshall puts out his hand. The stranger shakes it, then pulls away. A group of shoppers blocks my vision. I swing to the side to try and glimpse their faces or some hint to identify them.
And then I do.
It feels like a block of ice rolls down my spine. The crowd picks up again, hiding me from Marshall as he starts back towards the art store. I whirl around to hurry inside.What's going on?I wonder, my head tight from the inside out.Why was he ...
"Leona? Are you ready?" he asks, coming up behind me just as my hands clamp down on the cart I'd left behind.
"Yeah, almost," I say, managing to sound light and breezy, like I didn't just catch him doing something suspicious, like I don't know he's hiding something.
He smiles at me in that relaxed way of his. I wish I could enjoy it without knowing he’s pretending. I can't get the image out of my head ... the snapshot I saw before his companion vanished into the mall.
Heels.
Marshall was talking to a woman.
