“Are you okay?” It was the first time Gladys had ever spoken to her directly.
She set her brush down, wiped her eyes, and nodded. “Yeah. Just kind of got into it a little bit. I do that sometimes.”
“It looks like a square full of bubble gum,” Blanche said.
Betty squinted and leaned closer, then wrinkled her nose. “Bubble gum someone stepped on.”
“Or one of those amoeba things we used to look at under a microscope in university biology.”
Blanche tisked and shook her head. “Bernice, you’re not making any sense at all.”
“Is it a…?” Betty cocked her head, then shook it. “What is it?”
Mia looked down at the page and really saw what she’d painted for the first time. It was completely obvious to her what it was. But then, it was her own broken heart she’d painted.
“It’s loneliness,” she said. “And regret.”
“What’s the black thing?”
The cage I’ve constructed around my heart. “It’s what’s keeping it in.”
Blanche reached across the table and took her hand. “Mia, honey. Listen to me. You need to call that young man up and make this right. Stop letting pride get in your way.”
“It’s not pride. It’s just that he was so bossy and controlling when the photographers showed up, and I thought he was…Well, I jumped to the wrong conclusion and I said some awful things he didn’t deserve.”
“Then apologize.”
“He’s going to have a hard time living down the damage done in the papers. I doubt he wants to see me.”
Blanche set her brush aside. “Honey, that boy’s stock went way up when the photo of you two kissing made the tabloids. You worry about you, not him. You’re a mess.”
“I’ll tell you the truth. If someone had done to me what I did to him, I doubt I’d ever want to see that person again.”
“But this isn’t just someone,” Betty said. “It’s someone you love. Turn the tables here. If he had done the same thing to you that you did to him, would you want to see him again?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s different for him?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
She leaned close. “Open this, Mia.” She pointed at Mia’s painting in front of her. “Set it free.”
Mia stared at her face a long time, letting her words sink in. Set it free. Yes.
There was a commotion outside the door and then Bernice gave a shrill squeal and clapped her hands.
Oh, good heavens.
Toenails clicked on the highly polished vinyl floor, and Clancy trotted into the room wearing the yellow and green sweater Gladys had knitted.
“Will you look at that,” Betty said. “What a cutie.”
“There’s something in its mouth,” Bernice said.
Clancy stopped right in front of her and sat. Gingerly, she removed the object from his mouth. It was a rolled up piece of paper. She stretched it open, but it was wound tightly and sprung shut, launching to the floor before she got a good look at it.
“What does it say?” Betty and Bernice said in unison.
Blanche snapped it up. “Lemme see.” She placed it on the table and unrolled it. “The course of true love never did run smooth.”
Leaning over to get a better look, Bernice’s brow furrowed. “What an odd thing for a dog to have as a chew toy.”
Mia covered her mouth and closed her eyes. Michael. At that point, she was terribly glad her heart was caged, because otherwise it would have beat right out of her chest.
Bernice grabbed her walker and shuffled to the window. “Oh, my word. There’s a horse drawn carriage out front.” All the other women moved to the window and made various noises of surprise as Mia’s heart continued its attempted escape from the confines of its cage.
Michael.
“I’m sorry, sir, you can’t just walk in—”
“Yes he can!” Blanche shouted to the nurse.
And then he was there. Just inside the doorway, more handsome than she’d remembered, breathing heavily with windblown hair, bright blue eyes, adorable dimples, wearing Gladys’s sweater, which was even uglier on than it was off.
Gladys gave a loud whoop and clapped.
“I…” he began and stopped, appearing lost. He took several steps toward her, grimacing like he was in pain. He closed his eyes as if composing himself.
Needle-like prickles of panic trickled down her spine. She worried he was hurt or something. “Michael?”
He opened his eyes and stared at her. “Give me a moment. I’m a little overcome. I hadn’t really planned what I was going to say specifically, only generally, and then I saw you and…”
The weight of the moment bore down on her all at once. Michael Anderson was out of control and unscripted—raw, unmasked, and completely vulnerable. And he was amazing. And despite his discomfort, she smiled, and then laughed.
“Well, I see I’m off to a great start,” he said.
“Oh, you are, honey,” Betty said.