The Art of Zen, page 49
She was grateful for this time in her life, tumultuous as the recent journey had been. Spencer made this Christmas Eve romantic, new memories Tia would cherish forever. Tia had cooked them dinner, a favorite recipe from childhood that her mother made every year, regardless of their location. Pot roast cooked to perfection throughout the day in a crockpot, surrounded by golden potatoes, carrots, and pearl onions. Homemade biscuits were a special treat she baked for Spencer. He picked up a cheesecake for their dessert from a nearby bakery. They enjoyed dinner in the dining room, wine, and dessert in front of the fireplace, followed by opening presents by their Christmas tree. Spencer surprised Tia with a beautiful ruby pendant accented with diamonds, along with dainty earrings to match. Tia gifted Spencer a sweater blended with silk and cashmere in a sophisticated shade of charcoal grey. He was also pleased with the new leather jacket she bought for him in soft lambskin. She took his teasing for what it was when he asked her if his new clothing replaced his request for her to hire a private investigator. Even though she knew he was only half-teasing, Tia didn’t pull the thread of that topic and let it lie so they could enjoy the evening. To end the night, Spencer made it even more memorable and made slow, sweet love to her as he professed his love, then fell asleep with her in his arms.
As Tia lay awake and listened to Spencer’s even breathing, she knew the moment the clock turned to midnight. She stretched out her leg and ran her foot along his calf, his skin was warm against her sole. Her thoughts drifted to him and the way their relationship developed. On the surface, it was an unlikely match, in her eyes, but it worked. He was kind, thoughtful, caring, sexy. She let out a faint sigh to think about the intimate side of their relationship and about those moments she captured in her work.
Tia turned to Spencer and watched him sleep. A soft smile played upon her lips as she reached out and traced the line between his brows. It amazed her that she had come to love that scowl when at first it baffled her that he always looked irritated. Thoughtful, concentrating, focused, he would argue. Regardless, she loved it. Loved him, so much. For the first time in her life, she understood what it meant to love someone so deeply, it hurt. Her chest felt tight with it. Blood rushed through her veins quicker than normal. Her heart thudded faster any time he was near, any time she thought of him.
Grateful for her petite size, Tia shifted closer to him, then gently slid her body on top of his. Her breasts pressed against him, the hair on his chest was soft, yet crinkly at the same time as her body lay flush against his. She scooted her knees up on either side of his hips and slid her arms around his neck as she snuggled into him and felt him stir beneath her.
Spencer’s eyes were heavy as he blinked them open. His arms wrapped around her as he held her close and murmured with satisfaction to feel her slight weight on top of him. “You ok?” His voice was tired, he nuzzled his face into her soft curls.
“Mm-hmm,” Tia answered.
Spencer breathed deeply and held her tight. “What’s this for?”
“Because I love you.”
He ran his hand up her back and sifted his fingers into the silky strands of her hair. “I love you, too. What time is it?”
“Just after midnight. Merry Christmas, Spencer.”
“Merry Christmas, Tatiana. Come here.” He turned her in his arms and settled her back against his chest to spoon her. “Go back to sleep, sweetie.”
Within minutes, Spencer’s breathing evened once more, but Tia couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts drifted to her work. Filled with pride for what she had created, Tia let her mind wander as she thought about the completed works and what she still had to do. There were touches she wanted to add, full paintings she still itched to create. She did what she could to force her mind to quiet and her body to relax but to no avail. Her imagination went into overdrive and the thoughts that started positively had morphed into self-criticism within an hour. Tia tossed and turned, and eventually fell into a fitful sleep with abstract images of her artwork that she knew everyone was sure to hate.
Tia woke up later than she wanted to. Even though they were having dinner catered, there were appetizers to put together, wine to open so it could breathe, and Tia had to take the time to get herself ready for the afternoon. She always loved dressing up for the holiday and took extra care to get her look just right.
Vivian and Tory were due by two-thirty. The food would arrive at three o’clock and dinner would be served shortly after. Because Tia woke up later than anticipated, her morning felt rushed which intensified her dark mood. Her brain kept busy for most of the night and her thoughts reminded her that her work was amateur.
Even though she felt pressed for time, she still indulged in an extra-long shower with the hopes that the hot stream of water would soothe her nerves. It didn’t. Instead, it put her on edge even more because now she felt like she was running behind.
Tia stood back from the mirror to study her look. She wore a red pleated silk skirt paired with a white lace camisole with thin braided silk straps. Around her neck and on her ears were the new pieces of ruby jewelry Spencer had given her the previous evening. On her feet were her sparkling gold Louboutin heels she knew she would kick off shortly after their guests arrived. Her hair was left loose so her curls tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. One side of her dark tresses was pulled back with a festive snowflake hair comb designed with Swarovski crystals and delicate seed pearls. She looked behind her in the mirror to see Spencer watching her. Tia took a moment to appreciate his handsomeness. He wore the new sweater she gave him for Christmas. He walked closer to her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and smiled at her in the mirror.
“You look pretty,” he complimented.
“Thank you,” she answered as she turned to him. “You look nice. That sweater looks perfect on you.”
“That’s because the talented artist I’m in love with knows her colors well.”
“Yeah,” she snorted, then turned back to the mirror and applied a coat of lip gloss.
“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked for what felt like the millionth time since they woke up. He fully expected the one-word answer she had given him every time he inquired.
“Nothing.”
“Sweetie, you’ve been saying that all day and it’s obvious something is bothering you. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Tia insisted. “I woke up late... I took too long in the shower... Vivian will be here soon...” she stammered through her random thoughts but left out the one that was bothering her the most. “I’m going to start on the bruschetta.”
Spencer frowned after her as he watched her walk away. “Bullshit nothing is bothering you,” he mumbled. Their relationship might be in the new stages, but he knew her well enough to know that something was heavy on her mind. Last night she was full of childlike glee to celebrate Christmas Eve with him. She was passionate and receptive when they were intimate, and sweet and loving when she snuggled into him to wish him a Merry Christmas at midnight. He wondered what happened between then and now to turn her mood so sour. Spencer believed in talking things through. Communication was key in business. Even though he knew their relationship was not a business deal, he knew the only way to get Tia to snap out of her mood was to get her to talk about it.
He walked to the bar in the corner of the living room and poured them both a glass of wine. His ear was turned to the kitchen where he could hear Tia removing ingredients from the refrigerator and the cabinets, and then slapping them down on the countertop in irritation. With two glasses in his hands, he walked to the kitchen and stood in the entryway watching her sort the items to start making bruschetta. She set out a cutting board with a knife beside it, then reached for the tomatoes. Spencer stepped to her side and placed a glass of wine on the counter in front of her. He put his hand on her wrist to stop her movements, then stepped closer to her. His body was warm against hers, his breath soft on her skin as his lips brushed her neck.
“Tia,” he murmured against her. “Please tell me what’s wrong. Did I upset you?”
Unable to help herself, Tia sniffled when tears filled her eyes. “No, you didn’t do anything.”
“Then what is it, sweetie? I can’t help you if you shut me out.”
“I don’t need your help,” she insisted with a quick shake of her head. She gave the tomatoes a rinse in the sink.
Spencer couldn’t help it, he pushed. “If you talk to me about it, you might feel better.”
Tia picked up a bundle of fresh basil and held it to her nose. At his persistence, she smacked it down on the counter. “It’s shit! All of it is shit!”
Confused, Spencer reached around her and picked up the basil to give it a sniff. “Smells fine to me.”
“Goddammit, not that!” Tia snapped. She opened up a drawer to remove a knife, then slapped it onto the cutting board, only to realize she already had a knife.
Spencer took a step back from her to give her space. He leaned against the opposite counter and took a drink of his wine. “I’m not following.”
“You wouldn’t,” she sneered.
He stood up straight at her snide tone. “What’s the supposed to mean?”
“It means you won’t understand what I’m talking about, so of course you’re not following.” She pulled the lid off of the container of mozzarella and held her hand over the bocconcini to drain the liquid into the sink.
“Then tell me so I’ll understand,” he insisted. His tone was kind and patient as he spoke to her. “I only want to help you, Tia.”
“No one can help this! It’s shit. Complete and total shit! There is nothing you can do about it. I suck!”
“What are you talking about?” he implored.
“My work!” she retorted. She tore off the stems from the base of the basil leaves and threw them into the sink. “All of it sucks!”
“I seriously doubt that, but if you’d like me to take a look at it, I will,” he offered.
“Of course you will!” She reached for her wineglass and took a gulp of cabernet. “Anything for a peek at my paintings. Well, don’t worry. Not only won’t you see it, but no one else will, either. I’m destroying them all tomorrow.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, confused at her outburst. “You’ve been working like a madwoman, even adding workouts to your daily routine so you’ll have extra energy. You can’t just throw in the towel.”
“The hell I can’t!” she argued. “It’s shit! All of it is shit!” Try as she might, she couldn’t hold back the tears. They leaked out of her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. With a deep breath, she tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling in despair. “I don’t know why I ever thought I could paint in the first place. My parents should have taken away all my supplies and forced me into finance with my father.”
Spencer wasn’t sure how to fix this problem, so he leaned back against the countertop once more and let her continue, though he couldn’t resist pointing out the obvious. “You’ve had two shows for Vivian. Both of them sold out.”
“Yeah,” she snorted. “My father probably somehow orchestrated those sales. If he couldn’t come to make my shows a sell-out, he probably hired people to come and act like they were interested. Like they would be for ridiculous scribblings!”
“They’re not ridiculous, Tia, and they’re certainly not scribblings,” he disagreed. “And your last show, the mermaids, those sold out and you didn’t know Ainsley at the time.” He went silent at the mention of Ainsley, sure that woman was the last person Tia wanted to talk about. She surprised him when she picked up on the topic of Ainsley.
“You know, Ainsley did me a favor.”
“How?”
“By hiring someone to destroy all of my work. I should have seen it long ago that I couldn’t create anything. Whoever this bad-breathed thumb-scarred asshole is who destroyed all my paintings did the right thing.”
“How can you say that?” Spencer looked at her like she was crazy. “After what happened to you-”
“Oh, I’m going to personally castrate the bastard for attacking me,” she assured him. “But I should thank him for ruining everything! Why didn’t I see it? Why did I ever think I could draw, much less paint?” She shook her head as she began to talk to herself. “Vivian must laugh every time I give her a completed piece of work.”
“Then why did she say a hundred copies of your book sold?”
“She probably just said that and gave away a bunch of copies to homeless people on the streets to use as kindling for a fire. In fact I bet that’s what everyone has done. All those people, who I’m sure my father paid to buy my work, probably took theirs home and destroyed it. Better yet, maybe they painted over it and put their own creation on the canvas because it’s not like I have any talent!” She snagged the loaf of Italian bread off the counter behind Spencer, ripped off the heel, and took a large bite.
“Tia...” Spencer shook his head and laughed softly to himself. “You’re overreacting.” He knew the moment that last word was out of his mouth, it should have never passed his lips.
Tia hissed as she turned to glare at him. Her eyes flashed with anger. Slowly, she swallowed the bite of bread, then pointed toward the door. “Get out! Leave me alone and let me make this stupid bruschetta and wallow in my lack of talent.” She turned away from him and grabbed the tomatoes and the knife.
“Tia,” he began, only to snap his mouth shut when she interrupted.
“Get out!” To get her anger across, she stabbed the knife into the cutting board. Her back was to him, she could feel Spencer’s eyes on her, but she refused to turn and face him.
This wasn’t what he hoped to accomplish. Spencer didn’t want to leave, he wanted to help her, but he quickly realized that telling an artist they were overreacting was far from helping them. He was, quite literally, saved by the bell when the doorbell rang. Because Vivian had been added to a secure list of visitors with the doorman, her presence wasn’t announced by phone call, so he figured it was Vivian with her date. He left the kitchen as Tia insisted and answered the door.
“Merry Christmas!” Vivian greeted him with a smile. That smile faded when she saw the look of distress on Spencer’s face. Vivian stepped into the penthouse with Tory, they both looked festive in classic black dresses. Vivian’s was topped with a gold sparkling jacket, Tory had a green and gold striped silk scarf tied around her neck. The women exchanged a look of confusion when Spencer grunted a greeting in return. Vivian reached for Spencer’s hand and looked at him with concern. “Is everything ok?”
Spencer stepped back to let them in. He shook his head, baffled. “I don’t know what’s going on. We had a great Christmas Eve, but Tia woke up on the wrong side of the bed. She’s been grouchy all day and now suddenly, it’s shit.”
“What’s shit?” Vivian questioned.
“Her work. All of it. Every painting she’s ever done is shit. She’s glad it was all destroyed... thinks you gave the books of her work away to be used for kindling... she’s convinced her father somehow purchased all her paintings to make her shows sell out. I told her she’s overreacting-”
“You didn’t!” Vivian gasped.
“Yeah, I learned immediately that it was a mistake.”
Tory glanced in the direction of the kitchen, then back at Vivian when they both heard the sound of a knife being used with force. “What’s she killing in there?”
“Tomatoes for the bruschetta,” Spencer answered. He stopped Vivian with a hand on her elbow as she started toward the kitchen. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” he advised.
Vivian chuckled and patted his cheek. “This is your first artistic meltdown, I see.”
“Artistic what?” he questioned.
“A freak-out,” Tory explained. “From my experience, the bigger the drama, the better the work.”
“Well, with the way she’s acting, I’m sure she’s created masterpieces.”
“Haven’t you seen them?” Vivian asked.
“She won’t let me.”
“Ooh,” Vivian breathed. “They must be good. Come.” She linked her fingers with Spencer’s and pulled him after her. “You need to learn how to talk her off the ledge.”
The knife went smoothly through the produce, but it satisfied Tia more to make sure each chop made hard contact with the cutting board. Angry, frustrated, dejected tears streamed down her face as she prepared the appetizer. She glanced to her right when the trio approached. Vivian in the entryway with a wary Spencer standing next to her. Behind them, she saw a curious Tory. Tia’s shoulders jerked with sobs. The knife fell out of her hands and clattered to the counter as she held out her arms to Vivian with a wail. “Oh, Viv!”
“Tia,” Vivian soothed. She held her close and rubbed her back. “Why are you so hard on yourself?”
“Because it sucks, all of it sucks! I wanted it to look so good, but it’s just awful!”
Vivian pulled back and smiled at Tia with care. She reached for the wineglass on the counter and handed it to her, then waited while she took a drink. “You know that’s not true.”
“It feels like it,” Tia hiccupped on a sob.
“Tell me what happened,” Vivian requested. She took Tia’s wine from her and helped herself to a taste.
“It’s been going so well,” Tia sniffled. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel, then caught Spencer’s eye as he stood by listening. “You can go.”
“No,” he answered stubbornly. “Vivian said it’s important that I learn to understand this side of you.”
“Anyway,” Tia said pointedly and directed her attention back to Vivian. “I thought things had been great, but you know how it is before a show.”
Vivian’s brows raised in surprise. “I knew you were working, but I didn’t know you were thinking about a show.”
