Finding Sam (Featured)

Chapter 8 - It's Complicated

On Saturday morning, I was trembling with anticipation even before David arrived to pick up Michael. Though he usually picked Michael up on Friday evening, he called to say he'd missed his flight back to L.A.. But I was too excited about having my own studio to worry about it. So Michael and I spent a nice evening together watching his favorite Thomas and Friends movie. In the morning, we enjoyed breakfast in the backyard till David arrived.

Once they were gone, I packed the trunk of my car with enough supplies - canvasses, brushes, tubes of acrylic paints and primer. Just enough to get me started. I could always bring more on Sunday morning.

When I burst out crying in front of Erik, I thought I was going to die from embarrassment. The outburst took him - and even poor Miles hammering against the door frame - by surprise. But they were tears of gratitude, happiness, and mostly shock at how real this all was, with me holding the keys to my own studio.

I had to run into the bathroom to collect myself, wash my face and quickly gather Michael and head home. I was grateful that Erik didn't say anything about it, only smile his usual smile, his eyes telling me it was alright. I never realized how much David's betrayal had affected me till that moment.

The first weekend at my studio was spent doing nothing. I stared at a blank canvas for what felt like hours, though it was really only ten minutes. Soon I was outside, laying out on the sand and working on my tan. How could anyone paint on a gorgeous day like this?

I then made myself a cup of coffee and enjoyed the sunset from my private deck without painting a single line. I'd have had better luck had Erik given me the garage instead.

By the second week, I had to force myself to draw the blinds closed, hoping the muse would finally grace me with an idea. But the only thing to grace me so far was another day to work on my tan although I did sketch while I was outside.

In the afternoon, just before the sun set, I laced up my running shoes and ran all the way up to El Segundo and back down to the studio. Still I was actually pleased with myself. At least I sketched something.

On Sunday, I forced myself to stay inside and stare at a blank canvas if I had to. It was then that I decided to paint Erik's house, complete with the drought-resistant plants along the walk street. I set myself up on a bench just outside Erik's house and began to sketch. By afternoon, I dragged myself inside the studio and began to paint in earnest. It was about time I earned my keep anyway.

If Erik had been home those two weeks, I never knew. The only hint of any activity inside the house was the sound of the automatic lights going on at dusk. Twice I heard someone moving just outside the door, but it turned out to be the golden retrievers that I always heard barking by Olivia's house. Their names, according to their tags, were Thelma and Louise. I figured that Erik either returned home late, long after I left the studio, or he was out of town.

By the third Saturday, Olivia peeked in and invited me to dinner at her house that evening. Consuelo would be watching Bella for the evening, she said, and she would love for me to meet Julie, one of her close friends.

"I would have stopped by sooner, but I didn't want to interrupt your artistic process," she said, leaning against the door and trying so hard not to study the canvasses around the room in various stages of my "process."

"It just feels weird knowing that you're right next door and we haven't even said hello these past three weeks," she added. "I just like being able to share a meal with you and welcome you to the family. I guess it comes from living in Italy. Sebastian and I always had company."

"Of course it's okay," I said, laughing. "You can come in anytime. My 'process' isn't exactly that complicated. I just really slap paints on and hope they all work out somehow."