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I would ask Hugo later, I knew he liked to talk and would tell me what I wanted to know especially after he drank enough home brew. Shawn shook my hand and squeezed it hard like it was a test of strength. It felt like I was shaking hands with a brick, neither of us flinched. He asked me where I met Mary and asked where I worked. I told him I met her at the beach and she kind of turned away. I believe she was embarrassed for him to hear that. After he walked away Mary asked me why I told him that and I told her it was the truth. I knew right then that she still had feeling for this guy. I asked her if she wanted to talk and she told me maybe later and walked away leaving me standing there for the third time. I walked back over to the barn and drank more hooch. It was some pretty good stuff. I knew I was drinking to much and beginning to feel it. Some old guys started play a guitar and violin. There was a spot for dancing and a number of girls began dancing. It was more of just jumping. Standing on tiptoe. High heels. Long dress catching and reflecting the light, accenting her shape beneath. Stark contrast against the shiny blackness of his suit. Mix in cobalt. The pavement is wet, reflecting back their distorted forms. Light on darkness. Behind him a shadow arises. Sinister. Threatening. Indistinct. His own fears? Betrayal.It was past midnight when I cleaned my supplies. I’d done it again—let my emotions take me into the canvas. This time with no music score. The last one, Desperate Love, I’d sent to the vault while it was still wet. So different from my usual painting that it could be by a different artist. I’d captured something different. In addition to shape and color and shadow, I’d captured the emotion missing in my other paintings. I flopped down in my chair to look at it, wondering what time I had to be in class in the morning. I looked at my Day-Timer and groaned as I realized I had a paper due for Bychkova at eleven o’clock. I opened my laptop and stared.
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