When Sammy moved in, she’d brought with her a few odd souvenirs from her past: a poster of France, although she’d never been there, some trophies she’d won at tennis events, a modern art sculpture, which she claimed was a sea horse, and knickknacks from here and there. The apartment had looked more lived in with her collection. I guess I needed to spice up the apartment again, if money ever flowed more freely.
I did have some nice paintings that Cara had left behind. She’d added seven of her paintings to our stark walls, none of them of the statue, David. Mostly, they were flower arrangements, trees, and one really pretty sketch of a mother with her child that had been done in art class.
I’d looked around the first day Timothy visited and wondered if I should try to make a statement of my own, but what would I want to hang on the walls? Pictures of nature, wild animals, copies of famous works of art? It was something to think about, especially if I didn’t get another roommate.
Timothy was a very good guest. He didn’t complain, move things around, take off his shoes and socks, or even pick up an art book to thumb through it as Simone had done.
“You can check out the coffee table books if you want,” I’d told him. “They actually belong to Cara, but she left them in my care.”
“So, she’ll be coming back?”
“Probably not. Besides Cara wasn’t really a roommate. She just spent most of her time here with Sammy and me. We had great fun together. Lots of laughs. The two of them often forced me play a game where we had to draw sketches. I totally flunked. My drawings belong in a kindergarten classroom.”
“It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.” That was a Picasso quote, right?”
I nodded. “Yes, because a child paints with simplicity and creativity. I guess if my sketches had been purple cows with multiple eyes and a background with a green sun, Cara wouldn’t have laughed so hard,” I told him and then I laughed because I couldn’t imagine myself painting such things.
“Come sit by me, Miss Bunny Rabbit Feet.”
“Did I thank you for the slippers?”
He nodded. “Yes, several times. I may be on to something. You were more enthusiastic over fuzzy slippers than the orchids I sent.”
“No. It’s just that slippers are more fun.” I was laughing fully by then since I knew he was only joking. His face was a crease of smiles. Even his teeth were flashing in amusement over our conversation.
Timothy pulled me down beside him and slid me closer. “Yes. This is exactly what I imagined. Cozy and quiet. And plenty of time to get to know each other. Tell me about your childhood.”