Many of you have been asking how Sabasa and I have been doing since our reconciliation. The answer is that everything is going very well. Allen and Megan have become good friends—he is now a regular customer at her bakery, and she will often come to his house after he gets home and stay for several hours. There is an ease between them now, a comfort that makes for an excellent beginning to a relationship.
So why has this relationship not yet begun? It is true that this is slower than I commonly move in establishing a romantic connection. But for the past few weeks, Allen’s emotional energy has been primarily directed towards his artwork. Sabasa was right to think that this first project was very important to his spirit, and so while I have maintained and nourished the friendship between him and Megan, I have not tried to draw him closer.
But last night, he finished the work. Sabasa and I were both present as he lowered his brush, staring at the canvas. He took a deep breath, and his aura rippled with exhaustion and relief. Then he set the brush down and quietly burst into tears.
I was worried for a moment that he was disappointed with the result, or that he was afraid that this would be his only good work. But Sabasa was radiating satisfaction and pride. “It is a great moment for him, and one that he did not expect to have again. He has rediscovered a part of himself that was lost. I think he will not lose it again soon.”
And sure enough, Allen soon wiped his eyes and moved the canvas to a place of pride in his living room, where it can be the first thing he sees when he comes into the house. He stood there looking at it for some time, and there was a glow in his heart.
I congratulated Sabasa for her good work. She waved away the praise, but I could tell that she was pleased with the results. Then she smiled at me. “And you have reason to be proud, as well, I see.”
I saw then what she had noticed—Allen was beginning to think of showing the artwork to someone else, and his first thought, of course, was Megan.
This afternoon was the earliest that she could come over, but she agreed eagerly the moment she heard the reason, and she was on Allen’s doorstep half an hour after her shift was over. Nervous and excited, Allen ushered her inside, where her eye was immediately caught by the large canvas perched on the sofa.
“Oh, Allen,” she breathed, her bag dropping from her hand.
With her, I looked at the painting. At first glance it is simply a tangle of black lines, but there is a structure that becomes clearer the longer one looks, and soon it seems that one is gazing through a window, the panels of which form the suggestion of a woman with her head bowed. Behind this framework, thinner lines coil into almost words, spiraling and spinning and revealing nothing and everything. One could spend many long happy minutes gazing at it, and Megan did, looking up only when Allen brought her a glass of tea.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said. She was sitting on the floor, gazing at it, and when Allen sat down next to her, she took his hand and squeezed it. “Really, Allen. I love it so much.”
“Thank you,” he said, smiling.
“So what are you going to do with it? Try to display it? Sell it?”
A pang went through Allen’s chest at the very thought. “No, not any time soon. I don’t think I could let go of it just yet. Yeah, I don’t know what I’m going to do. For now, I’ll hang it in here and just be proud of it.”
“Well, you should be!” Megan turned her eyes back to the painting. “But you’re going to keep painting, right?”
“Oh, definitely,” Allen said, and he put an arm around her shoulders. “I’ve got a few ideas.”
These ideas were turning away from art just at the moment, and I stepped closer as Megan glanced up at him, her eyes bright. “Oh, really? What kind of ideas?”
He put his hand under her chin. “Well, do you think maybe one day you could sit for me?”
“I thought you were an abstract artist,” she teased, leaning closer.
“I can still work from life. And I want to capture the beautiful things in my life.” He leaned back a bit, seriousness coming back to his face. “I want to thank you, Megan, for helping me with this. It meant a lot to me to have someone to give feedback and support.” He gestured to the painting. “I would never have been able to do this without you.”
“Then I’m glad I was here,” she said. “And I’m honored to have been a part of it.” She set a hand on his chest. “Now, are you going to kiss me or not?”
That made him laugh, but he did kiss her. I threw my wings around the two of them to seal the connection, looking with joy and pride at the work that started it all. Sabasa took one more look at it, too, and then she departed, leaving Allen to devote his full attention to Megan at last.