Love you for infinity,
A
“Aria. I know things have gotten bad with Mom, and believe me—I know how miserable you are. But running away—to Kylie’s or to Miami—it just isn’t… it’s a short-term solution, A. It won’t work. I really want you to call me, okay? We’ll talk it out. Just… just call me.”
I end the call but don’t stop pacing, from the white board to the back of my empty classroom and back again. I’m such a hypocrite, telling Aria not to run away from her problems. I should go back to New York. Check on my baby sister myself. Or maybe I’m overreacting. She is a teenager, and when I was her age I spent more than a few nights at friends’ houses for the sole purpose of escaping my mother. She can’t truly be planning to fly to Miami with no warning. Our mother would kill her.
I want to talk to Luke about this. Hiding so much of myself from him weighs on me more than I ever thought it would. But I’m terrified of what he will do, how he’ll react, if I tell him the truth. No. When I tell him the truth. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick; lightheaded.
I have to see him. I need to rest in his eyes, in the way he looks at me like I’m good and whole and worthy of being loved the way he loves me. I check the clock. There are just a few minutes left in the last period of the day. I reach for my purse and keys.
When I get to the studio, I press my ear against the door. Silence. I can’t remember if Luke has last period free or not, but I don’t hear the usual music, chatter, and laughter that swell in his studio during class. Carefully, I twist the handle and open the door just a crack. The room is dark, and it takes a few minutes for my eyes to adjust.
“And I wasn’t really sure what it was when I was first starting out, but I just sort of ended up with this circle with all these colors and symbols in it. I don’t know what it is yet.” Priya stands at the front of the studio. Projected on the wall next to her is a large, glowing image of a circle, filled with colorful swirls and shapes. When she sees me, she lifts her hand in a small wave. The rest of the class turns.
“Ms. Sloane!” Luke is leaning against the wall opposite the door. In the low gray light, I see a smile play over his lips. “Come on in.”
“Oh—I—I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I stammer. What was I thinking? If the students weren’t talking about Luke and me before, they will be now. I’m reckless when it comes to Luke. I don’t think about the consequences. “I can come back.”
“No. Stay.” Luke waves me inside. “We’re just doing critiques. The students are presenting their work, and I’m sure they’d love another informed perspective.”
“Okay. I guess. Thanks.” I nod and slip through the door, pressing my back against the wall. My face is hot, but at least it’s dark.
“So Priya, what you have here looks to me like a mandala.” Luke crosses his arms over his chest, studying the image. “Does anyone know what that is? Have you heard that term before?”
The room is quiet. Luke glances at me, and I shrug.
“The term mandala is a Sanskrit term that means circle, loosely translated. As a symbol, the circle represents wholeness. Think about it: a circle has no beginning, and no end. It goes on forever.” Luke is studying me, taking me in as he speaks. As if we are the only two people in the room. “Think about how we use the circle as a symbol in everyday life. When we fall in love and decide to commit our life to another person, what do we give them to symbolize it?”
“A diamond?” Vi calls out.
Luke seems to cringe. “More specifically, a ring. A circle. A symbol of love that is without end.”
“With a diamond.”
Luke smiles wryly. “Moving on. Mandalas are a common technique in art therapy. They allow the artist to explore the whole self through the art that he or she creates within the circle.”
I raise my hand, which makes some of the kids laugh. “Like how? What do you mean?”
“Well, the idea is that if we take a circle and start to fill it in without censoring ourselves, the final product will be a reflection of the self. So if I fill my circle with sweeping lines of different shades of blue, what does that mean?”
“You’re… sad?” Vi tries.
Luke shrugs. “It means whatever it means to the artist. The artist is the only person who can interpret his or her work. So if it were your mandala, Vi, the blue might represent sadness. For me, it might represent water. And being near water is calming for me. So maybe my blue represents feeling at peace.” The blue in Luke’s eyes glows bright on the other side of the room. “It’s all about interpretation.”