She examined the face in front of her. The lighting wasn’t the best, but her eyes were bright and her cheeks were rosy. She smiled as she applied some color to her lips. “There” she thought as she let out a nervous sigh, “Perfect”. Her concentration then was welcomingly interrupted by the sound of a ring. She reached for the cordless phone she left on the counter beside her.

“Hello?”

“Oh, Hi Mom”

“Yeah, seven-thirty to ten.”

“No – That’s okay, mom”

“Seriously, I’m just glad you are going to be there.”

“Take your time and drive safely, okay”

“Yeah, see you soon. I love you.”

As she turned off her phone and laid it back on the counter, she returned her gaze to her reflection in the mirror. Still satisfied with what she saw, she began to put away her makeup.

“Hey” a voice was coming from outside the bathroom and down the hall. “Who was that?”

“My mom” she called back, but kept her focus on packing up her supplies. “She just wanted to let me know that she was running a bit late.”

She lifted her head when she heard his footsteps slow and then come to a complete stop in front of the door. Both of his hands rested on the top of the frame as he leaned in casually. Then suddenly, he straightened himself while an expression of awe crept across his face.

“Wow” he breathed his smile bright and sincere. “Pam, you look . . .” She smiled, blushed and averted her eyes away. It always surprised her that he could make her feel that way; like a school girl. “Wonderful” he finished.

“Oh, I don’t know . . . .” she started to reply, maintaining her shy and innocent appearance. He stepped in behind her and slipped his hands around her waist lowering his head to kiss the bare crook that connected her neck to her shoulders. She stopped short of what she was saying, because he also always had the knack of making her feel ‘wonderful’. A feeling that had ways of making her forget any of the self-doubts that my have loomed inside her head.

He murmured, “But, I know” into her shoulder, creating a subtle vibration that rippled all the way through her body. It almost madder her forget about the evening as well. Almost. When his lips lifted from her skin, he stood up straight once again, his hands never leaving her sides. Now they both were staring at the image in the mirror. “A work of art” he whispered encouragingly into her ear, his eyes pierced the bodies opposite them.

She let out little giggles that seemed to lighten the air around them. Her eyes lifted towards his face in the reflection. While she knew he was still talking about her, she was amazed at how much it seemed like he was reading her mind. She loved what she saw before them. She loved Jim. And she loved Pam. And she loved just being . . . . here.

“So, I didn’t realize that this was such a formal affair” he explained while he reached across the front of her waist, grabbed her hand and spun her around one and a half times catching one last glance at her ensemble before resting his eyes on hers. She smiled the entire time.

“Oh, no . . . umm. . .” She began as she started to remember why she had put herself together this way. The reminder brought butterflies to her stomach. “It’s just the five of us . . .” She fumbled for words, “doing this” as she gestured her hands up and down indicating what she was wearing. “You should be fine dressed like that”. She smiled because she couldn’t help it. She loved the way he looked.

“Oooh, what time is it!” She snapped out of the trance she apparently was in and glanced down at her watch. “I wanted to get there early, help set up and make sure everything is in order.”

“Well, you better get going, then” he replied.

“Yeah. Good. So, I’ll meet you there?”

“Yep, I’ll be there” he assured her with not only his words, but his eyes as well.

“Good” she grinned, lifting herself onto her toes to give him a kiss. “Oops, lipstick.” She lifted her hand and tenderly removed the pink smudge from his lips with her thumb. “There, better.”

“Go” he said forcefully, giving her a quick embrace and then nudging her along. He knew she was stalling. “You’re going to be late.”

She was heading out the main door when she heard him call her name.

“Pam”

“Yeah” she turned around to see him hanging on to the door frame.

“You’re going to be great.”

“Thanks, Jim.” And that was all she seemed to need as she stepped outside and headed on her way.

There apparently wasn’t a lot of setting up to do when she got there, so she took the extra time before the show started to relax and get used to the situation. She decided to wander around the gallery and take in the sights before the people started to trickle in. As she walked from space to space she began to think about all the differences between this show and her last.

This time, there was a nice spread of cheese, crackers and carefully selected bottles of wine to greet the guests.

This time, instead of monochromatic fliers taped to cabinets the day before, there were glossy postcard-invitations mailed out a month in advance.

This time, instead of a little studio filled with students that she never quite related to, it was a gallery and five new friends who had provided her with the type of criticism, support and encouragement that she needed.

This time, instead of a single wall with six watercolors attached by pushpins, there was a entire room dedicated to pieces that she actually managed to have matted and framed and were properly lit by the spotlights above.

This time, instead of uninspired and flat pieces of work that lacked “courage and honesty” (oh how those words still stung), there were strong pieces that had depth and came from the bottom of her soul.

This time, she was different.

As she approached the lobby, she saw another big difference walking through the entrance door. “Hi” he greeted her.

“Hey” she didn’t hesitate to embrace him, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else” he chuckled and bent down to give her a kiss. “So, here’s what I’m going to do.” He said, putting his hands on her shoulders, sliding them done her arms and gripping the tips of her hands as he continued. “I’m going to walk around the gallery and check out everyone else’s work first.” He glanced up for a moment scoping out the place and then lowered his eyes back to hers “And then, you know, save the best for last” He finished with a smile.

“That sounds excellent, they’ll be so happy to see you” she beamed, “And while you’re at it, there’s wine and cheese and crackers on that table over there. You can help yourself.”

“Oooh, swanky.”

“Yeah, really high-class,” she rolled her eyes at him. “But really, it’s a pretty good spread.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in a little bit” he said before letting go of her hands and not resisting the urge to give her one more peck.

Just having Jim there helped her relax more and the night started to go smoothly. After the first few guests arrived she felt her nerves completely dissipate and she began to feel like she was in her element. She schmoozed. She talked about compositions and colors and line and form. She talked about negative space and themes and metaphors and inspirations. She talked to familiar faces and new ones. And above all, she spoke with confidence. It didn’t take her long for her to realize that she was right where she belonged.

“Wow, everyone’s here Pam!” Jim exclaimed as he sauntered into her area of the gallery nearly an hour after she last saw him.

“Yeah” she said, as she thought about it for a moment. Nearly everyone from work had made it in. Toby even brought Sasha, explaining that he wanted to make sure to introduce her into cultural things. And Pam didn’t mind that Kelly seemed more interested in being there to introduce her new handsome boyfriend than to actually look at the artwork. She also had friends and family as well as other classmates and professors there. Not to mention tons of people she didn’t recognize that were observing her work. “Not a bad turnout, eh” she grinned with personal, but well deserved pride.

“Not bad at all” he grinned down at her. “So, everyone from work wants to take you out for a celebratory drink afterwards. What do you think?”

“I’d love to.” She answered.

“They said that they’d meet us at Poor Richards when you’re done. And to bring your mom with.”

“Good.” And she thought for a minute. “You know, I have over an hour left, so if you want you can go ahead with them.”

“Oh, you’re not getting rid of me that easily, Beesly. I’m staying here until the end. I don’t want to miss one single person praising you.”

“Thank you” she meant it when she said that he could go, but she found relief in his willingness to stay, all the same.

“So, I was watching you, you know?”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, you definitely know what you’re talking about and I saw you hold yourself up quite well to scrutiny.”

“Oh yeah, that guy” Pam grimaced just a little. “He’s the guy from my class I told you about.”

“Oh, with unreasonable expectations of how an artist should be and act.”

“Yeah, he was criticizing me for not having a synopsis up” she leered in the direction where she had that confrontation early in the night. “I told him my art speaks for itself. And if he wants to discuss the merits about any of the individual pieces, I would be more than happy to do so with him.”

“Excellent.”

“Yeah, then he just kind of gruffed something inaudibly and left” she shrugged.

“Pam, I’m so proud of you.”

“Why, because I put some jerk in his place?”

“No . . well, yeah” Jim sucked in some air as tried to compose the right words to describe what he saw in her; all that she was and all that she had become. “You really put this together well” was all that he could manage.

“And Pam,” he continued, but was struggling to maintain his stifled laughter, “Your Art! . . . Your Art is the prettiest art of all the art.”

“Shut up!” She hissed and smacked his arm. She found herself about as successful as he was at keeping her laughter in. “I’m never telling you anything ever again!”

“Yes you will, you tell me everything.” He said this knowingly, but nonchalantly, as if he were just stating the obvious. His head turned mid-sentence, distracted by something in his peripheral. “But seriously, Pam, come here” he said as he grabbed her hand and dragged her over to one of her own paintings.

She watched him as he talked about each of her pieces. She could see excitement in his eyes and his mouth and his hand gestures. He was so focused on what he was saying and seemed as adamantly passionate about her work as she was. She also noticed how he had been paying attention to what she had told him in the passing months as she would come home from classes, excited and eager to share what she had learned. He too could talk about composition and form and color and design and lines and themes and metaphors. She smiled as she realized that he had listened to her. He had always been listening to her. He had always been her cheerleader and her biggest fan. Struck by the moment she found herself letting out the words she had said one hundred times before, and she meant it each time, but this time was somehow just a little different.

“I love you.”

He paused and shifted his focus onto her face and eyes. “I love you, too” he smiled. It was so simple and yet so heart-felt. He understood what would drive her to say such a thing so seemingly out of context, but then again, not really.

“Now, tell me about this piece. Because I absolutely love it, but I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

“Oh. She blushed. “That one I did about a year ago.” She said as she found herself in front of a self-portrait she had painted during a very significant time in her life. She felt her heart race as she was delighted that he loved it. It was a very important piece to her. “I painted it just before you and I. . . well. . . got together.”

“Well, it’s just amazing.” She felt his hand slip into hers as their fingers intertwined and they kind of stood there for a moment silent, staring at the colorful canvas. “I don’t want to sound cheesy, but there’s a lot of emotion in this painting, no? I mean, those are some seriously aggressive strokes. And the colors that you chose . . .” His voice trailed and he seemed stunned in awe for the second time that day because of the beauty that she created.

“And this” he finally spoke up again and pulled his hand up and pointed, but never letting go of her hand in the mean time, “this right here”. Both of their hands pointed at a light blue line that trailed down the side of her face. “Is a really bold and beautiful move. It’s not a color I would expect, but it works so well.” He let go over her hand and turned toward her. “It really highlights your face and that beautiful expressive smile.” He paused and looked at her. And lifted his hand and he impulsively ran his finger down the side of her face, along her cheek and down her chin. “Kind of like the one you have on right now.”