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After weeks of tentative, sometimes strained encounters, Valerie had begun to spend more time with Amanda. It was an unexpected connection, one formed not out of shared history, but out of the loneliness and frustrations both women were dealing with in their own relationships. They started with small activities, things Amanda had always wanted to try but never found the time to do, and things Valerie could approach without the pressure of her public life.
It started with ceramics. Amanda, ever the curious and adventurous one, had found a small pottery class in the area and convinced Valerie to join her. The first attempt at molding clay was far messier than either of them anticipated, with lopsided bowls and misshapen vases ending up on the wheel. Valerie laughed at herself, her hands covered in dark, sticky clay. Amanda, on the other hand, seemed determined, even if her vase looked more like a boulder than anything else.
“It’s supposed to be a bowl, Amanda,” Valerie teased, wiping her hands on a towel, her face flushed with amusement.
Amanda didn’t even look up from her work, completely focused on the spinning wheel. “I’m just... uh, reinterpreting it. The point is the process, right? Not the outcome?”
Valerie smiled, nodding, though she couldn’t help but notice how much the activity allowed them both to forget their worries for a while. The mess, the failed attempts, it felt liberating, almost like a form of therapy.
A few weeks later, they decided to try something else—painting. Amanda set up an easel and canvas in the living room, and for hours they painted, each of them trying to express something that was hard to put into words. Valerie worked with soft blues and greens, abstract swirls filling the canvas, while Amanda used bold reds and yellows, splashing them across the surface in dramatic strokes.
“You’re good at this,” Amanda commented, stepping back to take in Valerie’s painting.
Valerie hesitated, unsure if she agreed. “It’s not a masterpiece.”
Amanda grinned. “It doesn’t need to be. It’s not about that. It’s about letting go.”
Valerie nodded slowly, feeling a quiet satisfaction in the work. Maybe Amanda was right. Maybe it was more about the act of doing it than the result.
