Jackie

“Your paintings look wonderful,” my mother said. My whole family had shown up to the opening, driving all the way from Chilliwack just to be here.

My brother nodded vigorously. “No offence, Jackie, but I like these ones a lot better than your flower stuff.”

I laughed. At one time that remark would have hurt, but my new work was better. The painting had emotion because I had managed to convey my feelings about leaving the places I’d loved—no, actually, the life I’d loved but had to leave. Yet, the paintings weren’t unhappy, because there was a new life ahead of me. Maybe it wasn’t the life I’d imagined, but in many ways it was better. It was a life that I was in control of.

Darlene pulled me aside. “Jackie, this is one of the best openings we’ve had. People are very excited about the work. We sold that painting before the opening, another one to someone who was here for dinner, and there’s a hold for one couple who need to measure their living room wall first. Congratulations!”

I blinked in astonishment. “Strangers are buying my paintings?”

“Yes, I think so. They didn’t say they knew you.” She gave me a sly smile. “Other than the handsome gentleman you were with this afternoon.”

A flush came over my cheeks. “Well, selling anything is a huge thrill for me.”

Darlene looked over my shoulder. “Oh, there’s someone here from an arts website who wants to take a photo of you with one of your paintings.”

Glad that I had glammed up for the event, I posed in front of the ocean side painting that Leo had purchased. At precisely that moment, Brent walked in with the kids. He was shocked, probably because I looked like a celebrity.

“Mom, this is so cool,” Tristan said. “And the painting of my room got sold. Man, you’re making so much money.”

I laughed and hugged him. It was a lot of money to someone on an allowance. But if you took away the cost of the art supplies and divided the number of hours it took me to make the painting, it was less than minimum wage. Still, as Sharon would say, it was better than sweet fuck all.

Hannah gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Looks pretty sweet, Mom,”

“Thank you.”

“I’m very proud of you,” she declared in a role reversal. Then we both laughed. Brent had finished his walk around the room, and he added, “It looks great. Good for you. And I notice there are a few red dots too.”

“Thank you, Brent. Thanks for bringing the kids.”

“Margaret had to work late, but I would have come anyway,” he declared. “It’s nice to see the old place.”

It never occurred to me that Brent would miss our home, because he was the one who left. But there was no denying that we had had some good times there. The fun of doing the first painting and renovations before we moved in. When we brought Tristan home from the hospital and Brent’s parents held a little surprise celebration with Hannah. The big party we had for Brent’s fortieth. In fact, he probably had more good memories than I did, since I’d spent so many miserable nights there once he’d left.

I’d never fully understand why Brent had left us, but now there was enough distance that it didn’t matter anymore. I had moved on and had accomplishments of my own.

“How’s your home renovation business with Sharon going?” Brent asked.

“Good. We’ve found a property. We’re putting an offer in and if they accept our price, we’re in business.”

“I’m helping with the demo,” Hannah announced.

Brent looked alarmed. But everyone would have the proper safety equipment on since Sharon ran a tight ship.

“I hope you’re not taking a big chance here. What if the real estate market goes down?”

“If the market goes down significantly, the kids and I will move in there from our rental. Don’t worry, we’ve thought of all the possibilities.”

“You’ve changed so much, Jacks.” He motioned around the room. “This art show, your own business—to be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

That was half compliment, half insult, but I went with the positive. “Thank you. Maybe I let you take care of things for too long. Now I have to look after myself.” I grinned. “And I like that.”

Brent smiled back at me. Maybe it was my new confidence or the passage of time, but he respected me more now. And it certainly helped that I didn’t yearn for his approval or attention anymore. I’d always care about him, but Brent was in my rear-view mirror now.

“Fuckity, fuck, fuck,” declared Sharon as she barged in and hugged me. “I could not get off the site at a decent hour today. I was afraid I was going to miss the whole opening. Your work looks fantastic in here. How’s it going?”

“It’s going great! I’ve sold three paintings.” Brent had slipped away, so I went on tiptoe and whispered in her ear. “Leo was here. He bought a painting, and he’s coming to see me tonight.”

Sharon’s eyes narrowed. “That fuckwad? Why are you so excited? You’re not going to let him waltz back in, are you?”

“He apologized,” I said. “And nothing’s happened yet. We’re going to talk tonight.”

Her expression took skeptical to new heights. Or depths. “Jackie, dial it back a notch. He was a huge jerk, and you are way too trusting.”

“Leo never lied to me,” I protested. “And I forgot to tell you, he came to Tristan’s hockey game a couple of weeks ago.”

“Which was around the time you broke up with Sid. It’s all making sense now.”

“You know, as my best friend and potential business partner, you’re going to have to be less effing protective. Let me make my own decisions when it comes to men.”

Sharon broke into a wide grin. “I’m going to have you swearing like me in no time. We will be a great partnership. And I’ll admit that I did like Leo—before he broke up with you.”

“I broke up with him,” I reminded her. She rolled her eyes at that, because yes, I had acted like a typical dumpee at the time.

“Okay, Jackie. Do what you want with the coach from hell. And I promise to be nice to whoever your boy-toy of the week is.”

“Boy-toy? He’s not that much younger than me,” I protested.

“You know, there will be some hot guys on our worksite,” Sharon said. “Maybe you can find a teenager there.”

“Oh stop it. Let’s get you a drink. Then we can walk around and admire my red dots.”