The Painter’s Confidant: An Original Short Story

It had been several days of “one lasts” for Julie. One last little dab of black, one last feathery stroke of red, one last correction of white, on and on, over and over, in a process that had overtaken several midnights as of this point.

Unfortunately, no amount of finishing touches seemed to actually finalize the painting enough to put her at ease. As one thing was added or revised, two more things to add or revise barged to the front of her mind like a nosey hydra unable to leave well enough alone.

For Julie, though, there was no well enough, not for this piece. This one had to be perfect. It could be nothing else EXCEPT perfect. After all, Lucy deserved nothing else.

Oh, Lucy… her best friend of nearly 40 years, the only one who could help her see the strength in perceived mistakes or the problems in overlooked place. The one who would join her for every morning cup of joe and evening glass of wine. The one friend who helped her through every broken heart. No, calling it a friendship wasn’t fair—it was a full-on sisterhood.

But it was little less than a year ago when Julie woke up to find herself alone in her home for the first time in so many years. Her body was there, but her eyes were closed shut, her body stiff as taxidermy, and not a single peep to greet her. Even as she looked upon her in her final state, she called her with the same cheery voice she always would, but it wasn’t until she had to speak the words to others when she finally broke into tears. Lucy was gone, and she took the last of life’s great joys with her.

No one person, place, or thing could fill the void left behind. No consolation from acquaintance or family could heal her. No inspiring thought or sight could push her back to painting. For a long while, life had simply turned into an empty vacuum, a loud silence.

It took months for Julie to find the strength to even consider painting one more picture on the grounds that it would be her last, ultimate tribute to Lucy. It would be an idol, a flawless depiction of Lucy in all her glory, from the red-blue-green color cocktail in her wings to the zebra-patterned face, complete with her pure, beady eyes and magnificent, nutcracker-shaming beak against a vibrant jungle backdrop for a little tropical touch.

Julie could recall each and every detail like the sweetest memory, but nothing in her hands had yet to live up to her vision. It was frustrating, perhaps, but so long as she had breath to spare, it hardly mattered how many times she would need to make a tweak or even start from scratch. She would spend the rest of her days bringing Lucy back if she needed to.

And if she failed in that endeavor, well, at least she might be able to laugh it off with Lucy when it was her time to go.