The Memory Painter

“I’m glad you liked the symphony.” She sounded breathless.

He finally let go of her and stepped away. “Sweet dreams.”

She nodded, giving him a little smile, and unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Bryan walked home slowly, his heart full, and he hummed a quiet tune along the way—it was the melody Guarneri often sang to himself in his workroom when he was happy.



TWENTY

After the symphony, Bryan had come home and finished going through the storage boxes, unpacked Michael and Diana’s Super 8 home movies and watched them on their projector all night long. The celluloid was almost better than the dreams: it captured their world.

He lost count of how many times he had viewed the wedding reel. Like an addict, he rewound it again and again, drawing the blinds and shutting out the sunrise to see the image projected on the wall.

The phone rang just as Diana was walking down the aisle. Bryan felt goose bumps cover his arms as he answered the phone. “Linz?”

“How did you know it was me?” she asked, laughing.

“Wild guess.”

“What are you doing right now?”

Bryan could hear one of Beethoven’s Late String Quartets playing in the background. “Watching home movies.”

“You have home movies?” She sounded surprised. When he didn’t answer, she hurried on, “So I can’t believe I’m asking this, but would you like to go to a party with me tomorrow night? My company is having their annual shindig, free food, dancing…”

Bryan smiled. She sounded like a high schooler pitching the prom. He watched Michael and Diana kiss. The wedding party clapped as they left the chapel, now husband and wife.

“Bryan, you there?”

The film ended. “Yes. I’d love to, yes.”

“Great. It’s kind of formal, so suit and tie if you have one. I’ll pick you up at six. Gotta go.”

She hung up before he could say anything more. Bryan played back the conversation in his head and frowned. “Suit and tie.”

He rummaged through Michael’s old clothes, dusted off a suit jacket, and tried it on. Linz had never seen him dressed up and he wanted to impress her. He went to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror with a critical eye. Diana had always loved this suit.

The only problem now was that he had thirty-four hours to kill until he saw Linz again—practically an eternity. He thought about the portrait of the Egyptian queen he had put back in the closet. He got it out again, and for the first time ever, he hung it on the wall of his studio. Maybe returning to the Great Pyramid exhibit would shed some light on her. Michael clearly had shared his fascination. He could even go today.

But the first order of business was to take Michael’s suit to the cleaners. The musty smell nauseated him.

*

Twelve hours later, Bryan sat up in bed, relieved to discover that his migraine had finally receded to a dull throb. He thought about how his plans had gone totally awry and grimaced.