The Walk - a short story

As I stared out at the rain I felt strangely satisfied that the weather so aptly mirrored my mood. Now if it would only frost it would really match my bitter and twisted feelings. Annoyed with the reluctance of the weather to co-operate, I left the comfort of my warm living room with its many paintings and treasures that had once meant so much and went out in the rain pausing only to call the dog.
‘Toby!’ I called and within a breath he had trotted out happily to join me in a good soaking.
The rain ran down my face within seconds of leaving my warm refuge which was oddly cleansing as it washed the signs of grief from my face. The anger I felt was not so easily dissipated. My little west highland terrier ran along on his short legs to keep up with my seething stride his tail waging in frantic excitement at this new game. As my thoughts spiraled I wondered when I had started to feel so angry.
Was it the moment when Matthew had left me or was it when Sophie had announced that she was taking a year out of University in order to work in a South African orphanage. I had never felt so alone and yet selfish as I knew the work she was doing was invaluable and possibly helpful for her future career. I walked further away from the safety of my home, which had once been full of love and laughter and was now eerily quiet. The wood into which I was walking seemed like the opposite of my barren home. Life teemed in the trees and the undergrowth as I caught sight of darting birds and tiny indescribable rodents scurrying about. It was impossible to feel alone with life teeming in every direction. The life so obvious around me cheered me as nothing had for weeks.
Matthew had been ill for only days before dying of a massive heart attack. Sophie and I had clung together for those days and the time after it but it seemed to me that she was able to pick up the pieces of her life more easily than I. My life had been Matthew and Sophie since our wedding almost twenty five years ago and Sophie’s birth just over twenty. We had been the classic happy family with few fallings out. My mother had warned me about how my life had been caught up in the pair of them.
‘Matthew can’t live forever and Sophie has her own life to lead! You should have more for just you!’ she had chided but I knew now that these angry feelings were because I had ignored her advice. I had taken care of Sophie, even doing her washing when she came home for uni holidays for twenty years and her father since I had met him. Now they had both left me and I wasn’t sure who I was angrier at. Them for leaving me all alone, my mother, for being right, or with myself.
I noticed that the rain had stopped and I realized that I was standing by the river at the end of the heavily wooded path from my countryside haven. Or such it had been once. I thought of the many times we had walked as a family with Toby and our previous family dogs down here and along the river bank watching for wildlife and enjoying the sun shine. The weather was once again seemingly echoing my mood as the sun broke through the clouds and lit parts of the fast moving swollen river as if by spotlights. I briefly toyed with the thought of throwing myself in to the pulsating water but Toby would be left alone without me to take care of him and I wouldn’t inflict that on my poor dog. Besides I was a very good swimmer and so I doubted it would be enough to do anything other than make me wetter.
The sun spread out making the spots into blotches and the blotches into patches until eventually the parts of the river not lit by sun shine were the smaller. The warmth spread through me and I felt for the first time something akin to peace. Where had the anger gone I wondered. Perhaps it had dispersed with my fast moving thoughts as I had begun to formulate a plan. I needed a job. I was trained for nothing but as I thought of the things I enjoyed most I realized that there was something I could do.
Matthew and I had loved searching for paintings and treasures in antique fairs and shops and occasionally picked up a find on the internet. I would sit around feeling sorry for myself no longer. Sophie was not gone like Matthew but would want to come and visit her loving mother not a sobbing mess. I stood up straighter and suddenly noticed the time. I had been standing on the river bank for almost an hour. Dwelling on the past was another thing that would have to stop. I was luckier than a lot of people to have had a husband who loved me even if it was only for what seemed a brief time. I felt a wave of shame as I thought of what he would say if he could see me.
‘What’s all this? Can’t live without me eh?’ he would joke, ‘I always said I was like a God to you!’ I could almost hear the jibe with his trademark sarcastic humour. I surprised myself then by feeling a smile spread across my face and a strange lightness fill my heart. I felt myself unable to stop myself from replying out loud.
‘You weren’t that great. At least I don’t have to pick up your mess anymore.’ I jovially responded to the Matthew in my head.
‘What?’ I started as the voice came from behind me. Turning round I saw a man of perhaps a few years older than me sitting at an easel and painting.
‘Sorry, I didn’t know you were there. I was… talking to someone else, me I think’ I wasn’t sure why I was trying to explain this to a stranger but it seemed natural and I felt like I was unable to move from the river that had been the source of my epiphany.
I smiled. ‘What are you painting?’ I asked in order to change the subject.
‘You’ he said quietly and then correctly read the confusion and anger building in my face as I prepared to respond with accusations of sick and predatory behaviour and added ‘you just looked so lost and beautiful, and you were just standing there gazing out across the river. I’m sorry. It was an invasion of your privacy.’ He began to gather up his paints and brushes and put them into the case that was leaning by his easel. I could feel my curiosity was piqued and suddenly was more that than angry.
‘Wait.’ I said ‘can I see it, please? I’m sorry I snapped it’s just you don’t expect to find someone painting you in the middle of the countryside!’
‘Well this is the first time I’ve done this you know. I am an artist, I don’t just carry around this stuff for fun’ he smiled and beckoned me over and as I walked, finding I could move after all, I looked at him and was surprised to see that he was quite handsome with thick longish black hair with a fair bit of grey and sparkly blue eyes that crinkled at the sides when he smiled. He stood back to let me look at his work and I noticed that he was taller than me by about four inches and was significantly broader but not overweight. I caught my breath just a little as I looked at the painting that was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.
The woman, it was in no way clear that it was me, stood on the river bank looking lost in sadness as her head, crowned with long dark hair worn loose over her shoulders, sagged slightly over her chest. Her hair was whipped up by the wind and the sun light picked out various spotlights on the river and another on her left hand, where the artist had painted the ring that I still wore. Beneath this hand there was Toby sitting looking up at the woman as if she was his world. I glanced down at the dog to see that he was watching me with just that expression and commented on this in a murmur. I glanced at a tree in the painting which was standing tall and straight and youthful as it burst into bud and glanced over at the tree opposite where we stood now and was surprised to see that it was old and gnarled and bent almost horizontally overhanging the river. I looked my question to my artist friend.
‘It’s about beginnings.’ He said and I drew my eyes back to the woman and replied aloud.
‘Beginnings sound right’ I smiled. As he packed up his painting he held out his card and I was surprised to see a name I recognized on it.

Colin Muir
Sunflower studios
Will buy paintings for restoration and
commission new works on request.

Matthew and I had bought several works by Colin which hung in my living room. I told him this and he replied that he was flattered as he painted for enjoyment.
‘I can imagine nothing worse than doing a job that I didn’t love. Every painting is like a child that I have created and long for others to enjoy and take care of.’
I was not surprised by this statement as I had long felt that painting was one of the great talents to have. I only wished that I had any such talent but I knew that, apart from the odd scribble for my own enjoyment, painting and drawing were not my forte. I wondered again what my forte was. I had a sudden brainwave just as Colin was preparing to take his leave having folded up his easel and packed the newly painted canvas safely in a folder. Paintings, not the actual painting but the buying a selling aspect I would certainly enjoy.
‘I don’t suppose you need any staff?’ I asked Colin gently with a small enquiring smile on my face and was disappointed when he replied.
‘No, sorry, it’s just me and that’s how I like it.’ Then he paused as he remembered something ‘Do you like antiques?’ he asked.
I stood somewhat surprised by this apparent intrusion into my earlier thoughts ‘Yes, I do. Why?’
‘It’s just that, I have a friend who runs a little antique shop in the village and she’s looking for help. Would you be interested?’ I wondered what would possess a stranger to offer this information up on the basis of a chance meeting with someone like me. I worried for the first time about how dishevelled and unkempt I must look with my damp hair and clothes, lack of make up and yesterday’s clothes on. I hadn’t worried about my appearance since Matthew had died, just throwing things on and washing things without paying any mind to what was clean or not.
‘Yes. Yes, I would be very interested, but if you don’t mind me asking, why are you offering to help me? You don’t even know me?’ I said quietly and hesitatingly, worried about the response.
He smiled at me and said ‘Well that’s the thing.’ He gathered his belongings up and began to walk off. ‘If I help you then you will owe me one.’ He got a little further away and turned and said loudly ‘and if you owe me one, then maybe there’s a chance, even a small one, that you’ll let me take you out to dinner!’