I couldn’t look at him. I wouldn’t. He would see and then he’d know. He would know why I stayed in this town that whispered about my mistakes behind my back and my family who treated me like the dirt garbage was piled on. And he could not know. He could never know.That the reason why I stayed in this town was him. If I left, I knew he wouldn’t come looking for me.I glanced around and saw no one was paying us much attention. A few looks, a few whispers but that was all. “It’s an art show.”“What?”“The drawings. They’re going in an art show.” As a distraction, it was lame, but I didn’t want him to start harping on me leaving because then what?He sat up, his eyes wide. “Sarah, that’s fantastic!” Was that pride? Blushing, I looked down. “Tell me. Lay it on me, baby.”I poured a few drinks then returned. “I met this guy in rehab. We had down time so I’d draw. It was crap, but I’d sit there and try to remember how to do things. This woman joined me. She painted.
