Chapter Thirty-Four
Thirty-Four
Back in her apartment, Mary kept the living room lights dimmed, using a single corner lamp to give the spacious room just enough light so that she wouldn’t bump into any furniture.
She kicked off her shoes and placed the wrapped painting on the low coffee table at the center of the room before pouring herself a large glass of red wine.
When she left Jolt N Bolt, just over five minutes ago, she completely forgot to get both the coffee and the salad bowl that she had originally gone there to get, but it didn’t matter – her appetite was all but gone and right then, Mary needed wine much more that she needed coffee.
She walked back to the living room and paused by the coffee table and the painting.
There was no point in opening the package because Mary knew exactly what it was.
I think this was the one you really liked.
When talking to Thomas at the exhibition on Thursday evening, there had been only one painting she’d mentioned liking – Betsy’s Reflection piece – the one that she really wanted to get.
Sure, Mary had also mentioned liking a second piece from Betsy – Fragmented – but that one was hanging on the wall to her right.
She had purchased it at the end of the exhibition.
But if that was Betsy’s Reflection, how the hell did Thomas manage to get hold of it?
Mary had another sip of her wine, while she thought of a plausible answer.
It took her only a few seconds to come up with two – either this Thomas fellow really was in with the in-crowd, or he was the one who had bought the painting in the first place.
If option one was the winner, then Thomas must’ve had to pull a few strings to get his hands on that piece.
What that indicated was that Betsy was right – Mary must’ve left a very good impression for Thomas to want to impress her like that.
If option two was the correct one, then Betsy was more than right, because that meant that Thomas had purchased the “Reflection” piece before he’d even met Mary at the end of the exhibition, which in turn meant that he was giving up something that he’d actually wanted for himself just to please her.
I like option two, the voice inside Mary’s head butt in. That means that he really wants to get into your pants.
‘I know.’
I’d let him.
‘Shut up.’
Just saying.
Mary rounded the sofa and finally sat down.
Outside, as the day faded into night, a few menacing clouds began gathering above the harbor. She observed them for a while, hoping that enough of them would cluster together to produce some rain, maybe even a heavy downpour.
Mary loved the rain. She had done so since she was a little kid. To her, it had always been easier to hide in the rain because her stepfather didn’t like standing in it for too long, so he’d give up before he was able to find her… and if he couldn’t find her, he couldn’t hurt her.
But Mary had always loved standing in the rain.
To her, it was like a magic coat that not only protected her from her stepfather, but it also washed away the blood, it rid her hair from his whiskey breath, it cleansed her skin from his awful smell, and it hid the tears that she always tried so hard not to cry.
She also loved falling asleep to the sound of rain – thunder or no thunder.
To Mary, the constant drumming of raindrops against windowsills, rooftops, trees, whatever, had an almost unearthly calming effect.
Rain also helped her think, and that was exactly what she needed to do right then.
She stretched her legs, and put her feet up on the coffee table. She’d be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought about Thomas since the exhibition on Thursday evening. She wasn’t the only one who had left an impression that night.
Mary gazed at the note that came with the painting before allowing her eyes to settle on the invitation – no phone number, no email, no way of getting in touch with him.
‘Smooth and clever,’ she said to herself.
And you know what that means, right?
Mary finished her glass of wine.
That’s right – we’re going shopping.