Flying Lessons (8)
But meanwhile she was remembering: all those nights he came home and picked up the paintings after she was asleep. Sticking them in the closet in the hall. Telling her in the morning how she should sell them, how she had talent. Remembering her sudden anger, how she wanted to lunge at him, all nails and teeth like a tiger. Her fury inarticulate. Why couldn’t he see how much flying meant to her? She didn’t care about the paintings. How selfish of him, how selfish selfish selfish selfish.
“Why did do you do it, Katherine?” are the first words out of his mouth now.
“Because I had to.”
“To this day, I still don’t get why you left. Without even a word.” His green eyes sad and confused, taking her back to when they were just a boy and a girl. She knows what she must do. She knows she must be very strong now. No giving in.
“I did us both a favor, Paul. I’m not meant for you. I’m not sure if I’m even meant to be with anyone. Trust me, this was the best way.”
“I still have all your paintings, you know. “