Chapter Eight

December 2006

Winter in Southern California was weird. Especially after those winters in Europe that were so blistering cold Mandy thought she would never be warm again. But as her flip-flops slapped the pavement of Main Street, the chill in the air didn't bother her at all.

When Mandy first left for Europe, she had only intended to stay a few months. But three turned to four, which turned to six and then a year and half later Mandy had finally come home.

Being back was surreal in a lot of ways. Everything was basically unchanged, but at the same time everything was different. The trees were taller, and Mandy's favorite art supply store had moved, leaving her padding along the street in search of its new location. Her time overseas changed Mandy, not just as an artist but as a person. She seemed to see life in brighter colors, and even though Mandy wasn't sure what she was going to do next, she felt excited for what could be. She missed her friends, especially Sophie, but it wasn't the ache she'd had when she first got to Europe all alone.

Today, Mandy headed to Grace's Art and Supply in search of a canvas. She enjoyed stretching her own, but there was something in Mandy's head and heart that ached to get out, so she couldn't wait any longer. And she desperately wanted to see Grace too. The middle-aged woman had always been a sort of mentor to Mandy, so coming home would never be complete without seeing one of her favorite people.

Finally, the familiar ding-ding-dong greeted Mandy as she walked into Grace's.

"Look what the cat dragged in." Grace Chan herself chuckled from one of the registers. "Your mom said you were coming home, and she showed me pictures, but I want to hear it from you. How was it?" Just like every day Mandy had ever come into the shop, Grace was dressed in paint-splattered overalls and a tie-dyed T-shirt. Grace's had always held a number of art classes, and from the looks of the new larger location, things must've been going well. Mandy still needed to set up her own workspace, but that would happen in time.

"Inspiring," Mandy breathed.

"It is, isn't it?" Grace tied her long black graying hair around her hand and used a pencil to secure it to the top of her head. "I remember my first trip. I didn't want to come home either. I thought for sure we'd lose you to the Louvre or Rijksmuseum or the Palace of Versailles"—Grace sighed longingly—"or the pastries." She winked.

"Oh, Grace, it was so incredible. All of it was." And from there the conversation flowed as smooth as a cappuccino. Grace leaned in and listened with her whole body as Mandy went on about her favorite places and all the secret nooks and crannies that Europe had to offer. Then Grace would respond and share some of her own. She had a way of understanding Mandy that not even Mom did—although she always tried.

"What did you think of her in person?" Grace set her elbows on the counter and propped her head on her hands.

Mandy closed her eyes, taking her back to the moment she stood in front of Berthe Morisot's art for the first time. She was one of the first women to break through into the good old boys' club of Impressionist painters, and she was beyond talented. It was a shame most people still didn't recognize her by name. "Her work isn't the same in person as it is printed in books, you know?" she said, and Grace nodded like she knew exactly what Mandy was talking about. "It's like standing there, you can really see the purpose behind each brushstroke. She wasn't trying to hide anything or cover it up, it was all right there on the canvas. Crisp. Refined. Intentional. Like she knew she was good, and why shouldn't she know?" Mandy sighed, and Grace smiled. "I don't know. I just felt seen. Even if it was for just a moment. Does that make sense?"

"Completely," Grace agreed. "I'm so glad you got to experience that in person."

"Me too." Mandy let out a long breath. "I could talk to you all day about this." Mandy glanced at the clock on the wall of paintbrushes. "Yikes, I kind of already have. But I know you've got other things you need to do, and I have this idea…" Mandy launched into excruciating detail about the depth and scope of her next project. "I'm going to need a canvas. A big one." Mandy stretched her arms out as wide as they would go.

A sly grin crept up on Grace's face. "I have just the thing."

Grace led Mandy toward the back of the store, and just as Mandy had expected, right into Grace's workroom. "I had the urge to stretch this the other day, and now I know why."

It wasn't the standard size that canvases generally came in but narrower and longer, just how Mandy's mind had envisioned. She had figured she would've needed to buy multiples or find a way to make it work with what was available, but this…this was perfect.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked.

"Oh. I know the owner, so I can get you a good deal." Grace winked. "I'll bring it up front so you can wander around." And with that Grace lifted the canvas and walked out before Mandy could argue with her. Not that Grace would allow it.

If Mandy loved Grace's store before, she was even more in love with it now. There were twice the number of options, which seemed like both a blessing and a curse, but today more of a blessing. She already knew exactly what she needed, but that didn't stop Mandy from checking out the store's new layout.

She had somehow stumbled down an aisle with decor, and paper stock for invitations, and practically any knickknack a bride could need for their wedding. "Laura?" It had been almost two years since Mandy had seen Laura last, and she almost didn't recognize her. Laura's raven-black hair had been bleached to an almost white-blonde, and she had more makeup on than she would wear onstage.

"Mandy!" Laura charged toward Mandy, wrapping her in a tight hug. "When did you get back?"

"Just a couple of—"

"I'm engaged!" Laura thrust her hand into Mandy's face, showing off a sparkling single-carat diamond.

"That's so exciting. Congratulations." Mandy smiled, holding in the giggle that wanted to escape. It may have been a while since she had seen Laura, but she hadn't changed a bit. Still dramatic as ever.

"Steven…my fiancé…he's getting his master's right now, and already has a job with his dad. They buy and sell buildings, not like flipping houses, but, like, buildings." Laura moved her arms to demonstrate she was talking about something big. "It's so weird he knows exactly how many bathrooms the floor of any building would need just by knowing the square footage." She paused. "Weird, right?"

"Totally." Mandy nodded.

"Exactly. Anyway, his dad is going to retire someday, and so, like, needs Steven to be able to run everything, so he's taking these classes…" Laura rambled on and on, and it took Mandy more effort than she wanted to admit to pay attention. It couldn't still be jet lag, but still she felt bad. She must've nodded and um-hummed in all the right places, because it seemed as though Laura's smile never faded.

"How's school going?" Mandy asked when Laura paused for breath.

"What? Oh, fine." Laura shrugged. "I'm probably taking the next semester off though to get ready for the wedding, and then Steven really wants to have kids soon, so. It would be really hard to do both, you know?"

"Yeah," Mandy said, but she didn't actually know. Laura always talked about going to college to study film. While she loved acting, she had wanted to do it all. Produce. Direct. She had even written the musical their school performed their senior year. Did people normally give up their dreams for the person they loved? What did that say about Mandy?

"…So next summer, plan to be there." Laura kept talking. "OMG are you on Facebook?" Laura whipped out her phone.

Face what ? "No, I don't think so."

"Do they not have it in Europe?" Laura seemed to ponder. "Well, you need to get an account and then friend me, okay? Oh my god, it was so good running into you." After rambling on for another five minutes about all the errands she had to run, Laura kissed Mandy on both cheeks and was gone.

Thirty minutes later, Mandy hobbled down the street with her oversized canvas and bag of supplies, try as she might not to run into people. A storefront door opened just as Mandy approached, and forced her to sidestep into a couple sitting on a large tree-planter box, sharing a cinnamon roll.

Mandy fumbled with her canvas now that she had been thrown off-balance. "Sorry about—" Her mouth went dry, and her heartbeat went into overdrive.

"Mandy?" Isa said. Her voice was a little colder than Mandy remembered—but not without good reason. Next to Isa sat another girl with gorgeous dark brown skin and hazel eyes. On her lap was a cinnamon roll box—just one—with two forks, like it belonged to both of them. Mandy's stomach rolled over.

"I'm sorry," Mandy mumbled—not just about almost crushing them now, but also for the things that happened between them before Mandy left for Europe. She'd wanted to text or email those words to Isa a million times but never had the courage.

"I like your hair." Isa gestured. Although it had been growing out, it was a lot shorter than the last time Mandy had been home.

"Thanks." You look amazing. And as beautiful as the last time I saw you. I've missed you so much. "I like yours too." Isa's hair was pulled up into a messy kind of bun, nothing special at all, but Isa would always be special to Mandy. Even if they never talked anymore, staring at Isa now reminded Mandy how much she still loved her.

Mandy stood there, unsure what to do. Unsure what to say. Her arms shook from the weight of her recent shopping excursion, but she didn't want to leave—not yet. Not when she was this close—and she didn't know when she ever would be again. Like somehow just standing here allowed her a moment inside Isa's orbit, and stepping away would send her careening off into the unknown again.

Next to her, someone cleared their throat.

Isa motioned to the girl sitting there. "Oh, this is my girlfriend, Tally."

Mandy didn't miss the way Isa said girlfriend , or it could've been the way Mandy heard it—either way, it stung. It was the confirmation that Isa's life had moved on and that Mandy didn't know anything about it—not that she had a right to know.

Tally gave a curt smile. "I've heard a lot about you, Mandy."

Mandy was sure she had. "Well, I should…" She teetered back and forth with the canvas and her bags like it was an acceptable excuse to leave.

"Yeah, sure," Isa said, and that was it. She didn't beg Mandy to stay or try to convince her things didn't have to be this way. Isa didn't grab Mandy's arm or ask her why she had to leave again.

"It was great seeing you." And it was, and at the same time, it wasn't. Mandy missed Isa more than the flowers could miss the rain. More than the stars could miss the moon. And yet seeing Isa made Mandy's chest ache so hard it felt as though it might cave in on itself. Before Mandy could stop herself, she turned to Tally. "Take care of her. She's one special girl." Mandy didn't wait for a response; she did what she had done a year and a half before, and walked away.

Mandy's morning had been a tidal wave of highs and lows, but once she got home and settled into the space at the back of the garage, she easily sank into her work and forgot about…well, basically everything.

This piece had been playing on her heart ever since she stepped off the plane at LAX a few days before. Europe was amazing and wonderful, but Mandy was home now, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could move forward. All the classes and trial and error had brought her to where she was today. Not standing in her childhood home, that's not what she meant, but in this headspace, feeling confident that she was good, but she could be better, and Mandy was okay with that.

She had many flaws and had made so many mistakes, but someone who's never failed never truly learned either. Mandy had studied, and reconciled, and had maybe even forgiven herself a little.

As she allowed the brush to find its place against the canvas, she smoothed and slashed and blended.

At some point her mother had brought her a plate of dinner, but Mandy didn't stop. She couldn't. Completing this project was the first step of many in Mandy's future, and she had to get through it before she could move on.

A cool breeze pushed through the open back door of the garage, sending in the scent of someone's fireplace nearby. It was a lot crisper than earlier in the day, but sweat dripped from Mandy's nose as she moved in unison with her brush—bending and stretching as though it were an extension of her.

A crack —the sound of something large moving outside—finally broke Mandy's concentration, and she spun around.

There, in the cascading light from the garage, stood Isa. How long had she been there?

"What are you doing here?" Mandy's voice was more surprised and less accusatory than the question itself seemed to imply.

Isa's dark curls cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves. Mandy's fingers itched to braid her hair like they had so many times before. But that was all in the past now.

Isa took a step forward and aligned herself in the doorway but didn't come inside. "That's incredible." She gestured to Mandy's painting. "I guess your trip was worth it."

Mandy wasn't sure if those words were meant to hurt, but they did. A direct hit. "I learned a lot." Which was true in so many ways, not just artistically. "What about you? How's school?"

"It's good. Hard, but good."

"Hard? Really, for you?" Mandy teased like no time between them had passed, but it had.

Isa laughed—or chuckled, really. "Yes, even for me. But it will be worth it. Eventually." The smile was still there, but it didn't quite reach her eyes the way it used to.

"You're going to make an amazing doctor one day," Mandy said. And Isa would. It had been the thing she dreamed about since they were little. The thing she had been working toward her entire life—the thing that made her mom and abuela so proud.

"I hope so."

Mandy knew so, but she stayed quiet. She wasn't sure if it was quite her place to squelch the doubt that sometimes lingered in Isa's head. Her role in Isa's life at one time had been so defined, but not anymore.

For a moment they both stood there, neither moving. Only six feet of space between them, but they had never been farther apart.

Mandy opened her mouth, to say—what? She didn't know. Isa stopped her.

"Why?" she asked Mandy. "Why did you do it?"

Mandy knew the answer to this question better than she knew her primary colors. Like a movie reel stuck on the same frame, she replayed her last hours in the US before leaving for England at the end of the most magical summer. She'd lived with the heartbreak of after. And part of what Mandy had learned when she was away was just how strong she could be. Because as much as she wanted to tell Isa everything, she couldn't. "How are your mom and abuela?" Mandy asked instead of answering.

"They're fine." Isa squared her shoulders. "Now tell me why."

"Really? Mom mentioned something about an accident."

Isa huffed. "Abuela fell off a stool is all, broke her wrist. But she's fine now—"

"That's great—"

"Why are you avoiding the question?"

"Was there a question? I guess I've never been as smart as you."

"Don't do that," Isa scolded. "Don't talk about my frie—just don't. You know you've always been capable of anything. Look at that." She gestured to the painting again, but Mandy didn't look at it. The painting would always be there, but Isa wouldn't—Mandy's heart ached. "So, I will ask again. Why are you avoiding the question?"

"I'm not." She was.

"Then why?"

Tears threatened at the backs of Mandy's eyes, but she didn't allow any of them to fall.

"Mandy? Why did you do that to me?" Did Isa's voice break? Or was that Mandy's heart cracking in two all over again?

Mandy shook her head. "I can't," she said, but she really wanted to. She had practiced exactly what she would say if this moment had ever presented itself—memorized every word—and now the moment was here. Mandy wasn't sure if she could hold out much longer. The way Isa was looking at her. The hitch in Isa's voice. The static in the air around them. It was too much, and the walls that Mandy had so carefully constructed were on the verge of crumbling.

"Can't or won't?" Isa yelled.

A dog barked. The breeze fluttered Isa's hair, pushing it farther over her shoulders. Goose bumps broke out on Mandy's arms as the moment stretched on and on.

"Won't." Mandy finally met Isa's eyes. "I'm sorry." And she was for so many things, but this was all she would allow herself to say.

Isa nodded like she understood, but she never could. "Well, maybe one day you will."

It didn't ever seem likely, but Mandy responded, "Maybe."

Isa took a step back. "I guess I'll see you around then." And like that, she was gone.