Chapter 9 #3
“And I truly must be a masochist because right after that, I decided to try and paint only for it to end the same way it always does. With absolutely nothing.” She paused, taking a breath.
“Anyways, here’s to me continuing the theme of this year, which is that I’m a hot mess express of a human these days. ”
“You’re not a hot mess,” Sarah said gently. And she meant it. “You’re just a little…lost. But we all get a little lost sometimes, so that’s okay.”
“You don’t,” Beth said quietly, catching her off guard. “You’ve always known exactly what you’re doing and what comes next.”
Sarah laughed, looking down into the wine glass cradled in her hands. “I wish that were true, but no, I definitely do not always know what I’m doing, or what’s coming next.” She looked up, catching Beth’s eye, letting herself get lost for a moment in the familiar comfort of her gaze.
Sarah debated whether to open up to Beth about how messy her life had truly felt since the end of their marriage, how she had felt stuck in a proverbial waiting room, not knowing how to move on.
For the better part of a decade, she had felt like she was drifting until Nell offered her a tether in the shape of one of the most meaningful relationships she had ever had, along with a new career opportunity running the Stanhope Giving Foundation.
“Turns out I’m human just like everyone else,” she said, deciding it was best not to open those old wounds and to enjoy this evening for what it was—a chance to help Beth.
Beth’s blue eyes lingered on her, studying her with the same intensity she studied the beautiful things she brought to life in her paintings, and for a moment, Sarah thought she was going to press her for more, but she didn’t.
“So,” Sarah said, pushing off the counter, straightening herself. “I have a surprise for you.”
Beth arched a brow. “Yeah, your text on Sunday mentioned one. I’ll admit I’ve been a little curious. Your surprises have always been legendary.”
Sarah couldn’t help the small swell of excitement at Beth’s praise, the warmth of it spreading through her.
“So—uh—the surprise,” she stammered, wincing at her slightly flustered tone. Pull it together. You’re just doing something nice for her. She reached for her wine glass, moving towards the living room. “Do you remember in college you made us go see The Princess Diaries?”
A wide smile cracked across Beth’s lips as she grabbed her wine, following her down the hall.
“Oh my god, yes! I forgot about that. Your roommate made those pot brownies, remember? That was such a fun night.”
Sarah’s lips twitched at the memory. They had purposefully picked a later showing and giggled all the way through the movie, hands roaming each other’s thighs, making out in the dark in a way that, looking back now, felt so free.
“Yeah,” she breathed, heat rising in her cheeks as she remembered.
“Do you remember how obsessed you got with that scene where they throw the darts at the paint-filled balloons? You told me that night that your favorite part of making art was creating from a place of joy. Well, I don’t have balloons, but we’re going to make some art out of joy tonight. ”
Beth’s curious smile fell as they entered the living room, looking around at the materials Sarah had set up earlier. “I don’t understand,” she said slowly.
Sarah used her phone to turn on music—specifically a playlist of all of the songs she knew Beth liked to dance to.
“We’re having a dancing paint party.” Sarah beamed as she pulled off her socks, cuffing her pants to avoid ruining them. Beth followed her lead. “C’mon,” she encouraged, grabbing one of the tubes of paint from the coffee table.
Beth reached for a tube of yellow paint, cautiously turning it over in her hands. “So we’re just going for it? Paint on canvas and dancing?”
Sarah hesitated, feeling Beth’s energy shift from excited curiosity to a quiet timidness that was so unlike her.
“I thought it could be a fun way to get over your painter’s block. You know, create in a way that’s so different from how you usually do, but we don’t have to if you don’t—”
A rush of blond waves moving towards her cut off her sentence, and Sarah stumbled back a step as Beth flung her arms around her neck, pulling her into a hug.
Sarah stood frozen to the spot as all the memories of every hug, every touch, every kiss with Beth spilled out of the box in her mind labeled DO NOT OPEN that she had worked so hard to seal shut.
This was a bad idea.
Sarah drew in a short breath, arms instinctively wrapping around Beth’s waist, pulling her close, bodies pressing together in an almost too perfect kind of way. The warmth of it was exquisite as she breathed in lavender and nostalgia, closing her eyes.
But then Beth pulled away. “Let’s paint.” She beamed, stepping barefoot onto the canvas, Sarah behind her.
They began to squirt dollops of different-colored paint across the canvas as the music played around them.
Beth instructed Sarah on where to put specific colors.
Sarah couldn’t help but be a little in awe of the way Beth seemed to be able to already see the final result in her mind.
Her brain definitely did not work like this.
The cold paint squelched between her toes as they danced together to Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody”—a favorite of theirs from their college party days—pushing the paint around as they moved across the canvas in a fit of laughter and chaos.
They continued like that through song after song, both breathless with wide smiles cemented in place.
The notes of the next song drifted from the speaker, and Beth flashed her a knowing look as ABBA’s “Super Trouper” began to play. “Of course you worked an ABBA song onto the playlist.”
“Everyone loves ABBA.”
“You’re not wrong.” Beth reached out, grabbing Sarah’s hand, pulling their bodies together, ready to dance.
It must have been the combination of wine, slick paint, and Sarah’s increasing nerves that made for poor balance as she slipped, the weight of her body coming out from under her as she fell to the ground, bringing Beth down with her.
Her back hit the floor with a thud, temporarily knocking the air out of her lungs as Beth toppled down on top of her, trying and failing to catch herself, her body smashing into Sarah’s.
After a panicked moment of assessing whether she was indeed truly okay and not injured, Sarah laughed.
And not a small laugh, but a deep, full-body laugh that shook her entire frame.
This was absurd. What had she been thinking?
Of course this activity had a high slip rate, and of course she had been the one to fall.
“Are you okay?” she managed to get out through her laughter.
“Yeah.” Beth laughed too. “Lucky for me, you provided a cushy landing. Are you okay? You didn’t hit your head, did you?” she asked sweetly, bracing a hand on the floor to the left of Sarah’s head.
“No, luckily I didn’t,” Sarah confirmed, her laughter subsiding as she looked up into Beth’s worried eyes. “I’m fine. Really.” Her voice was softer than she intended.
They stayed like that for a long moment, Beth still on top of her, body pressed against hers.
Her hand twitched against her thigh as she acknowledged the part of her that wanted to reach out and cup Beth’s cheek.
Sarah could have sworn she saw desire flash behind Beth’s eyes, but then it was gone, and Beth was pushing herself to her feet.
“I—um,” she said, reaching for the roll of paper towels Sarah had set on the coffee table earlier, wiping her hands clean. “I should go.”
Sarah stood, careful not to slip again. Aware that her clothes were most likely now ruined by the paint covering them, but she didn’t care. All she could focus on was how flustered Beth seemed.
Beth handed her the paper towels, and Sarah wiped her hands as Beth cleaned off her feet, then pulled her socks back on.
“Do me a favor,” Beth said, moving quickly toward the hall. “Save the canvas. I want to do something with it when it dries. And Sar,” she called from the front door, “thank you.”
The front door closed, leaving Sarah standing in her living room covered in paint, wondering what the hell just happened.