An Innocent Thanksgiving

“It’s a pity that whole series is sold, actually,” Cal went on. “I would love to give you a painting from it, if I had any left. I know I did one of Nashville. I did one of all the major cities in the country while I was in the United States.” He winked at me. “I guess I’ll just have to paint something else for you.”

He turned us so that we were looking out over the water. “Maybe something with water, you were always a fan of rivers. You always wanted to see the ocean.”

I was surprised that he had remembered that. I rested my head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to make anything for me.”

“I already did,” Cal said, sounding embarrassed. “After we slept together I did a whole series of a woman—it was you, in my head.”

Probably, I should have been offended, but it wasn’t really my body up on display for people to see. Cal hadn’t sketched me while we were together. He must’ve been going off of memory, and that was… that made me feel warm inside.

“I hadn’t wanted to admit how much you’d done a number on me,” he said. “But you had. And I was painting the memory of you, even if I couldn’t tell people who you were, even if I didn’t even want to admit it to myself.”

“And now you can?” I asked. “Admit it, I mean?”

Cal smiled, but it looked melancholy. “Yes. Now, at least. Better late than never, I suppose.” He paused. “Would you… would you like to come back to my home with me?”

“Your home?”

“I figured it would be nice—we wouldn’t have to worry about waking anyone up.”

Ahh. “Are you renting?”

“I got a good deal for the place, so I bought it.”

What? I knew that Cal was comfortable as an artist, but I had no idea how comfortable. Comfortable enough to just up and buy a house? Even being a famous artist didn’t guarantee financial stability. The work of most artists became appreciated later in life. “Art tends to get appreciated not in the time for which it was made, but in the time after,” Cal had told me once, I wasn’t sure what year, but it was a Thanksgiving a while ago, when I’d been in high school.

“Are you going to sell the house in Cincinnati?” My dad would be sad to have his best friend no longer living nearby.

“No, I’m keeping it. It’s near your parents, and they’re my friends, so it’s not completely useless.” He winked at me. “So, what do you say?”

Despite his cavalier tone, I could see nervousness lurking in his eyes. He had a reason to be. I hadn’t exactly been… eager, shall we say, to show him my appreciation for him.

“I say, take me home,” I whispered.

Cal’s house was big. Much bigger than my apartment. That was the first thing I thought when I saw it as we pulled up in front. The second thing I thought was that it was lovely.

I hadn’t really given much thought to house hunting. Why would I? It was one of those ‘maybe someday’ sort of dreams that I didn’t really have time to focus on. I learned quickly, having Fern, that there were things I just really shouldn’t let myself think about anymore. I couldn’t have them, and if I thought about them, I’d drive myself crazy.

Cal was at the top of that list.

But a house was on there too. Kids were expensive, especially in today’s economy, and while my job paid all right, it wasn’t enough just on one income to expect to be able to own a house. And this house was—well, it was the kind of house I would’ve bought for Fern if I could afford it. It wasn’t too large or ostentatious, but I could see a large backyard out behind it, big enough to put a swing set or even get a dog like she kept begging for, and as we stepped inside, I could see there was room for both entertaining and for an active kid to run around, perhaps set up a playroom for her separate from the living room so that adults and kids could have their own areas.

Don’t think about what you can’t have, I reminded myself.

It was hard not to, though, when Cal seemed to be thinking so strongly about the future.

“This is lovely,” I told him honestly. Cal sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to him.

“I’m glad you like it,” he told me honestly, and there was something vulnerable in his eyes, something I had never thought I would see in Cal, especially around me. He had always come across as so confident and experienced. Could I really make him as nervous as he made me?

I knew it wasn’t smart but I wanted—oh, how I wanted. And tonight, maybe, I could pretend that I was having everything that I yearned for.