The Anomaly (5 page)

Nathan looks at me again, trying to read my face. He exhales loudly. “That’s good.”

“I ran into William yesterday.”

Nathan’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Oh yeah?”

I nod. “He told me that the painting’s been in his family for a long time.”

Nathan scoffs.

“It seems like it means a lot to him, and it just so happened to be stashed away at his old home, where his ex-wife still lives. He told me to try to convince you to sell it.”

Nathan shakes his head. “Why would he try to put you in the middle of this? That really pisses me off.” His jaw tightens, making his chiselled bone structure look more intense.

I lean toward him, admiring his unconventional beauty. He rests his arm on top of the door, and his elbow pokes out the open window.

“You know it’s not safe to stick your hand out of a car window,” I say. “Your hand or anything else.”

“I’ll be fine,” Nathan mumbles. His naturally pleasant demeanour seems to have evaporated. “Listen, Shayna, if the painting really meant so much to William, he would have taken it when he and his wife got divorced. I don’t believe he had any clue about it, and neither did she. Let’s get real here.” Nathan huffs. He’s really getting worked up. “William’s family is well off. If you’re aware of the town’s high-society life―whatever that is―they always donate large sums to charities and organizations.”

“I see.” I sigh and roll my eyes. “I take it you’re not a fan of high-society people―whatever that is?”

Nathan glances at me. He senses that I’m toying with him, but he doesn’t get angrier. Instead, he laughs. “You’re mocking me.” He turns onto my street. “I don’t mind the people. My dad’s well-off, and if I needed something, he’d help me. It’s the greedy part I’m not a fan of. If I believed the painting had been sold by mistake, as hard as it would be to give it back, I might consider it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I said
might
... but I’m not totally sure.” Nathan shakes his head. “Anyway, that’s not the case.”

I drum my knuckles against my window. It’s halfway down, allowing just enough breeze to blow in without messing up my hair.

Nathan pulls up to the curb in front of Dad’s house. “Shayna, listen to me.” He sounds serious. “I know this isn’t New York City, but you still need to be careful. I’d like you to keep your distance from William and his partner in crime―whatever his name is.”

“You mean Sam?”

Nathan shrugs. “Yeah him.”

“About William... I didn’t want to be impolite when I ran into him. But I guess I’ll try to take your advice and keep my distance.”

“You have to do more than
try
. Keep your distance from him. Things will be better that way. I don’t really know the guy, but he doesn’t give me good vibes at all.” Nathan turns to look at me. “Okay?”

“Okay,” I mumble, though I don’t get why it’s such a big deal.

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I
sn’t it funny that when you don’t want to see a specific person, suddenly that person shows up wherever you are?
I ask myself when I’m out running an errand and bump into William on the sidewalk.

“Well, look who I’m lucky enough to see again,” he says.

“Hello,” I say and continue walking.

“Wait.” William stretches out his hand. “Did you talk to Nathan?”

“Uhmm... yeah.”

“Is he going to change his mind?” William’s expression is so hopeful. There’s light in his eyes.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

William frowns. “That painting means a lot to me. I’m sure it’s more valuable to me than to him. It was my mother’s, given to her by my grandmother.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

“This guy just won’t budge.” William pulls down on the tip of his green baseball hat. He scratches the back of his neck and looks at the yellow fire hydrant at the end of the sidewalk. “So how are you enjoying being back home?”

I raise an eyebrow.
This guy’s hard to read.

“You’re originally from here, right?”

I nod.

He smiles. “So is it as you remembered?”

I smile back. “Not quite. Nathan and I went to this park yesterday that I’d never heard of. It was nice. I even saw a swan.”

“Ah! I know that park. Canoe Pond, right?”

I nod.

“I’ve been there a few times with my family, but we’ve never been lucky enough to see a swan. I’ve heard that they only come to the pond.”

“Well, we only saw one.”

William raises an eyebrow. “Did you take any pictures? I’d love to see the swan.”

I hesitate at first, but there’s no harm in showing him a picture. I take out my phone and scan through the photos I took yesterday. The swan’s only in the background in two of them. I took the pictures to remember that moment with Nathan, not because of the swan at the time.

“It’s only in two of my photos.” I hold my phone out.

William comes in closer to take a look. One photo is a close-up of Nathan smiling, the swan gliding gracefully in the background. The second photo isn’t a good shot, and it shows a little more than half of Nathan’s body. He stands there smiling with his keys in his hands, and the swan’s behind him on the water.

William studies the second photo. Eventually, I pull back my arm.

“Sorry.” He chuckles. “I was taking my time because in all of my visits there, I’ve never seen a single swan.” He looks at the sky. “Let’s see, I’ve been there about two or three times.”

I laugh. “I guess it was just our lucky day.”

“I guess so. Would you mind sending me that photo? I’d like to show my kids. The older two live with me, though the youngest stayed with her mother.”

My eyebrows crinkle.

“If you’re not sure because your boyfriend’s in the picture, you can zoom in closer to the swan. It’s near his hand, so just zoom in around that area.”

I sigh.
Why not?
Since he’s not getting the painting, it’s the least I can do. “All right, no problem.”

William’s lips slide into a smile so easy that I’m happy that I agreed. So far, our interactions with each other have always been
tense
. I crop the photo slightly so most of Nathan’s upper body, including his face, isn’t in it. William gives me his number, and I send the photo to him.

His phone beeps when he receives it. “Wow.” He chuckles. “Thanks a million, babe.”

––––––––

I
wear a short red summer dress for my date with Nathan at the café. He picks me up and we get iced-coffees at the café before he drives back to his place.

He parks outside his apartment building and we head in.

“I live on the third floor,” Nathan tells me as I follow him up the stairs. He’s dressed in shorts and a short-sleeved, button-down shirt. He looks effortlessly gorgeous as usual.

When he opens the front door and I get my first glimpse of his place, I’m surprised. It’s decorated beautifully. “This is a lovely place.”

He smiles. “Thanks, I like to think that I got my good taste from my mother.”

“Hmm.” I walk into the living room. A beige sofa set decorates the area, as well as a large bookcase that’s occupied by books on every other shelf. The shelves in between have uniquely shaped vases, framed pictures, and other artefacts. I’ve never seen a bookcase like it, and I can’t help but smile at Nathan’s individuality.

“Your mom must have been a very interesting woman, to have a son like you.” I turn around to face Nathan.

He stands tall, fully occupying his place in the room of beautiful things. He turns and looks at the white wall by the dining room set. “Thanks.” His head dips, and I’m not sure if he’s looking at his shoes or the carpet as he walks toward me. He looks up and smiles. His eyes are slightly glassy.

But I know when a person’s holding back emotions. Mentioning his mom made him feel sad. I make a note to be sensitive about this woman so close to Nathan’s heart.

I sniff. “I smell food. Did you cook?” I arch an eyebrow.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Nathan says proudly.

He’s cooked salmon with sautéed garlic and tomatoes, wild rice, and grilled asparagus. We sit at his dining room table. It’s adequate with four solid brown chairs.

After my first bite, I moan. “This salmon is the best I’ve ever had.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean really good.” I nod and chew. “I always order salmon whenever I choose fish at a restaurant.”

“You’re trying to make this dude blush.”

We laugh, and I ask Nathan how he cooked the salmon. He explains and makes it sound so simple. I ask where he learned to cook, and he tells me that his mother taught him the basics—how to boil rice, how to use a grill, how to whip up a mouth-watering sandwich.

“I also took a food science class in high school, and I decided to teach myself a few recipes because”—he shrugs—“I got fed up of always getting take-out. A bachelor has to be able to make a few meals.”

I smile.

“Do you know how to cook?”

I shake my head and pout, drooping my shoulders a bit while looking at him. “Nope.”

We eat lunch, and I clean my plate. Nathan serves us ice cream, and while we eat dessert, I tell him more about modeling, about the girls who’ve had foot surgery to wear high heels, about the fear many models have of getting old, and the money given to teenage girls who then develop serious vices by their early twenties.

“How did you avoid those vices?” he asks.

“My parents cared more about me than about the money. Some people don’t have that luxury. They’re pushed to work because their handlers know, for many of us, careers don’t last longer than a decade, if that long.”

“Wow.” Nathan says that many people work for years in the same garage, and he’s thinking about opening his own. He tells me that he likes taking road trips and wants to buy a motorcycle soon.

I help him clear the table and take the dishes into his kitchen.

“You can put the glasses in the sink,” he says after putting our plates in the sink. “I’ll go get the painting.”

I go back in the living room and sit. Nathan comes out of his bedroom with the painting. He holds it carefully and rests it on the table. I lean in closer. The oil painting depicts a man standing in front of a farmhouse. Bathed in sunny light, the man looks robust and content.

“It’s a nice painting,” I say, glancing at Nathan.

He nods. “I know.” Nathan sighs and closes his eyes. “But I’m so glad someone has offered to buy it from me.”

I nod.

“I know the person, and I just have to wait a little longer because he’s a busy man.” He sighs. “This is going to be life changing. I have so many plans. Do you know how it feels to know that your plans can actually be realized?”

I arch both brows, waiting for his answer.

“Simply amazing.”

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I
t’s a lovely Thursday. During the morning, I go with Dad and Linda to a craft show. Linda’s really into knitting. Her finishing touches can be seen all over the house from knitted pot holders, to three beautiful throw blankets hanging from the arms of chairs, to the quilt on top of my bed. I admire her skill, because I’m sure knitting takes a lot of time. When we get back in the afternoon, we have sandwiches together. Then Dad goes in his office to work, while Linda goes to her own office. She works at home as a customer service agent for a baby company.

I doze off, tired from the humidity, and don’t wake until the afternoon. I go to the basement to spend an hour on the treadmill and head back upstairs for a shower. While I’m showering, I hear my phone ring three times. When I finally finish rinsing the shampoo from my hair, I turn off the faucet and dry off. Wrapping the towel around me, I go into my bedroom.

Nathan was the person calling me, but he hasn’t left a message. I call him back and walk to my bed where I’ve laid out my undergarments, a pair of shorts, and a T-shirt.

“Hey, I saw your missed call.” I smile. I’m just happy that a person like Nathan is in my life and talks to me every day.

“I just needed someone to talk to. I’ve already called my dad and the police.”

“What?” I sit on the bed and frown. “What for?”

“I came home from work and found my apartment ransacked.”

“What?”

Nathan sighs loudly. “Oh, man. I can’t believe this happened to me. Damn!”

“Nathan, are you okay?”

“My apartment’s been burglarized. Whoever did it, took the painting.”

“What?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“Yeah.” Nathan sounds as though there’s a frog in his throat. “I had it hidden in my room inside a locked box, but it’s gone.”

I feel my eyes get teary. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“I just can’t believe this,” Nathan says again. “All the plans I’d made—gone.”

“It’s okay, baby.” I want so badly to comfort Nathan. I don’t know what I’d do if I were in his shoes.

“But it’s not!” He’s becoming angrier. “I had plans. I wanted us to take a trip to the UK. I guess that can still happen... eventually. After some saving.”

“Definitely,” I say, feeling warm all over. “Both of us can contribute to the trip.”

Nathan just sighs.

“I just finished taking a shower.” I get off the bed. “Do you want me to come over?”

“No,” Nathan says. “Not now. I think, with the way I’m feeling, it’s better if I’m alone.”

T
hings change a bit after Nathan’s painting gets stolen. We talk about it a couple of times on the phone and when we meet up, but then Nathan says he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He suspects William had something to do with it, but he’s not sure. Because I know the situation’s ticklish already, I don’t mention my conversation with William. I don’t want Nathan to be further bothered by me talking to the man.

For the next week, I only see Nathan once. He tells me that he’s putting in some extra hours at work. Because he’s “still feeling the sting” of the missing painting, he only wants to see me when he’s picked himself up. By the following week, we’re back to regularly seeing each other. Back-to-school signs can be seen in store windows, and I feel butterflies in my chest every time I think about my time with Nathan ending. Meeting him wasn’t in my plan, but I have, and I don’t know how things will turn out for us.