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Ari’s eyes snatched Sushi’s breath out of her and held it for a long moment. Her painting was leaning against the living room wall behind him. She could almost feel the strings that tied her to it, holding her trapped in the doorway, caught like a marionette.
“No,” he said.
“What?”
“No. I would like to keep it. Eddie has your check.”
Sushi’s insides began collapsing.
“But you can’t– It’s my painting.”
“Which you were kind enough to share with the world.” Ari’s voice was unyielding, though not unkind.
Sushi laughed a little desperately. “Look, it’s really nice of you. I know you’re probably feeling sorry for me after I lost the contest, and–” She rolled her eyes, playing it off. “I know we had that whole thing together. But that little painting must have taken practically all your prize money. Seriously. You don’t have to do this for me.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Sushi saw Ari’s eyes spark with real anger.
“For you?” He grew suddenly taller, not physically. “Let’s get one thing straight. I buy art I love.”
He took her by the wrist and led her to the painting. His sharp eyes wandered all over it, lingering, savoring. Sushi almost wished it were her body naked in front of him instead of her absurd and delicate dream. She saw it again, heavy with beauty, foolish and fiercely hopeful, the vision of the day that sheer beauty befuddled the brutish herd.
“Look at this,” Ari traced the lines without touching them. “You can practically hear the butterfly wings. You can smell the dust. You– God, you actually managed to make a confused rhinoceros!”
And indeed, the rhino closest to the foreground, the one being carried off by the triumphant lead butterfly, looked positively bewildered.
“Do you know what this does to me?” Ari asked, aghast. “This painting– This is what I want the world to be. This is what I wake up for. Sushi, I am not doing you a favor here. I’m robbing you blind. You should have charged triple.”
“But–”
Suddenly he was back, bright eyes, bright smile, the outburst dissipated as suddenly as it had arrived.
“–I know.” Her voice turned suddenly girlish, shy, like a small child. “That’s why I want it back. It’s my very best. It’s my favorite.” It’s my teddy.
She wanted it back with an irrational yearning. And she still felt the intrusion of his eyes on it, unbearably intimate.
Ari nodded, understanding beyond words. A long moment hung between them.
“It’s what we do,” he said simply.
She swallowed, nodded, made the hard decision. He was right. If she wanted to hide herself, why paint? If she wanted to live, why cling even to her best?
She turned her back and walked out, leaving Ari and the painting, leaving fear. Time to start working on a new best.
