Rhythm Brooks
The next day, when the workshop ended, the gallery finally got quiet. The last few attendees lingered to thank me, took pictures of the pieces on the walls, and asked about prints. Then they filtered out one by one until it was just me and the smell of paint and candles that never fully left Voss.
I’d spent the day at Voss doing a hands-on workshop that was equal parts art class and therapy session.
I didn’t just stand in front of a room and talk at people.
I had them at the tables with me, sleeves rolled up, mixing paint, dragging palette knives through color, and learning how to build texture.
We worked on layering, how to start with a feeling, not a plan, then add, scrape back, and add again until the piece finally said what you couldn’t get your mouth to say out loud.
I walked them through my process from sketch to finish, showed them how I choose color stories, how I seal and frame, and how to price a piece without second-guessing your worth.
Sincere stayed the whole time, sitting off to the side like my security and peace at the same time. Every time I looked up during the workshop, he was right there watching me like he already knew I was going to kill it.
I gathered my supplies, stacking my brushes, closing my paint trays, packing up my notebooks and my sample prints. My legs were tired, but it felt good finally doing what I loved.
“That went crazy,” Sincere said, walking closer as I zipped my bag.
I smiled. “You think so?”
“I know so. You had them locked in. They came in here thinking they were just going to watch you paint and you had them leaving like they could change their life. You did that shit.”
I set the last of my things in my tote and exhaled. “It felt good. I was nervous at first, but once I got going, it felt natural.”
“Because it is natural. This is you.”
Before I could respond, the door opened and Aria walked in pushing a stroller that looked as expensive as a car. She looked like she was still in maternity mode but dressed cute enough to let everybody know she hadn’t lost herself.
“Y’all still here?” she asked. “I thought you would be gone by now.”
“We’re cleaning up. What you doing out? Aren’t you supposed to be on maternity leave? You just gave birth two weeks ago.”
Aria rolled her eyes and came farther into the gallery. “I’m on maternity leave, but I’m not on house arrest. I needed air, and he needed air too.” She then looked down into the stroller, grinning.
I walked up to the stroller and leaned over it, smiling as well.
The blanket was tucked around him neat, and when I peeked inside, Major had his little fists balled up by his face like he’d already decided he wasn’t here for any foolishness.
He was beautiful. Not in that generic way people say it to be nice, either.
He looked like a perfect blend of his parents, like somebody took the best parts of both of them and made something brand new.
He had his daddy’s strong features already stamped on him, but his mama was all over him too, softening it in the prettiest places.
Even asleep, he looked alert, like he was listening.
And what got me was how much he looked like the twins.
He had the same shape to the face, the same kind of eyes.
Because they were less than a year apart, I was sure people would assume he and the twins were triplets, once they got older.
“I’m free now,” Aria grinned with a sigh of relief as she stared down at him.
Sincere lifted a brow. “Free?”
Aria’s smile turned smug. “My tubes are burned. I’m done. Finished.”
I laughed. “Aria, you are not about to keep bragging about that like it’s a Birkin.”
“It is a Birkin,” she said, dead serious. “It’s the best gift I ever gave myself.”
I shook my head. “Well, give yourself the gift of being on maternity leave. You don’t know how to stay away from this gallery.”
Aria looked around like she was checking the vibe. “I miss my life. I love my kids, but I miss being Aria too.”
“You are still Aria,” I told her.
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to feel normal for a second.”
Just then, the door opened again, and Legend walked in. Aria’s expression changed to guilt immediately, like a kid caught in the kitchen late at night.
Legend looked at her, then looked at the baby, then looked back at her like he was trying not to go off. “Why you got my brand new baby out here in these streets?” he fussed.
Aria folded her arms across swollen breasts. “He needed air.”
Legend walked over, took Major from the stroller without asking, and adjusted him on his chest. “He got air at home. He don’t need dirty outside air before he’s vaccinated.”
“He was fussy, so I took him for a drive,” Aria argued.
Legend didn’t argue back. He just turned and walked out with Major like the conversation was over.
Aria stared after him for a second, then grabbed the stroller and hurried behind him, still talking. “Legend, you are doing too much. He was fine.”
Legend didn’t respond. The only thing we heard was Aria’s voice fading into the distance as she followed her husband out the door.
Sincere stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me back into him. He kissed the side of my face, then my neck, slow enough to make my eyes close.
“You did good today,” he murmured.
I leaned into him. “Thank you for hanging out with me.”
“I wasn’t going nowhere. You know that.”
I did.
Standing there in Voss, like most days, I realized how much my life had changed in one year.
I wasn’t rushing home to emptiness and stress.
I wasn’t measuring love by how much I could tolerate.
I wasn’t just simply surviving. I had work that meant something, people who believed in me, and a man who showed up and stayed.
Sincere held me tighter and kissed my cheek again. “You ready to go home?”
Home. That word felt different now. It felt… safe.
I turned in his arms and looked up at him. “Yeah,” I said softly. “I’m ready.”
And for the first time, I meant it without fear.