Love Locks. Cory Martin
put it back in the closet when a voice came from around the corner.
“Hi, Mom!”
Lindsey nearly dropped the painting as Alexa came bounding into her bedroom.
“You’re early!” Lindsey leaned the painting against the wall and gave her daughter a giant hug. Then she looked her over, wondering if she’d been eating right and getting enough sleep. She looked healthy and cheerful, her long brown hair pulled back from her face.
“I caught a ride from a guy at school,” Alexa said.
“What guy?” Lindsey asked with a sense of worry.
“I found him on the ride board in the dorm.” Alexa looked pleased with herself.
“You drove from Connecticut with a total stranger?” It seemed as if just yesterday Alexa was waiting for the bus to take her to kindergarten. Now she was driving home from college—with a stranger.
“I was with two other friends, Mom. It’s no big deal.”
“So all three of you rode with a total stranger,” Lindsey said, pointing out the obvious.
“Mom… you’re helicoptering again.”
Lindsey thought for a moment. “You’re right. Engine’s off.” Her daughter was about to live in Paris—she could handle herself. But still, she couldn’t help but worry.
“Hey, I remember that,” Alexa said as she picked up the painting. “It used to be in the hallway at our old place. It was one of my favorites growing up. You should put it up again.”
“We have better taste now,” Lindsey said as she took the painting and put it back in the closet behind a couple of umbrellas and some old coats.
Alexa reached for it again. “You know, that painting is one of the reasons I’m going to Paris now.”
Lindsey stopped her. “You’re going to the Sorbonne. That’s why you’re going. It’s an education and an experience that you can’t miss.”
“Yes, but I never would’ve known about the Sorbonne had I not asked you all those questions every time I passed that painting when I was little.”
Alexa had a point. Lindsey smiled at the memory. Her daughter had constantly wanted to hear more about her life as a painter, even if it was a small blip in the big scheme of things.
Lindsey pulled Alexa in for another hug. “You always were a curious one.”
“I was. So, tell me again, why did you stop painting?”
“I guess my fine arts degree taught me the fine art of unemployment,” Lindsey replied so quickly that even she believed it was true. Yes, there was truth to that statement, but there was so much more.
After that day on the bridge with Jack, she’d stopped painting. She hadn’t told anyone that at the time. Instead, she’d pretended that she was working on projects secretly. But it wasn’t true. Her plan was to start painting again in New York, but when he never came, she’d lost interest. Then it became easy to blame it on lack of time. She was newly married, and then had a baby, then needed money to support herself and Alexa. Although it had been her first love, painting had become the thing that evoked the most regret.
“Maybe you’ll start again,” Alexa said.
“It’s your turn now, kiddo,” Lindsey said in all honesty. Her time had passed. Now was Alexa’s time to experience the magic of youth. “You hungry?”
Alexa nodded and in unison, they said, “Pasta. Alfredo sauce. Extra cheese.” It was a ritual for the two of them. Whenever they wanted to connect or life seemed to get too serious, they always had Alfredo pasta.
Lindsey missed having her baby at home. Yes, in her mind, Alexa would always be the little girl curled up in her arms late at night in their small Queens apartment. Alexa, whether she knew it or not, had been through some of the tough times of Lindsey’s life. In some ways, Alexa was like Lindsey’s guardian angel.
“I can’t wait for you to meet Hugo,” Lindsey said as she stirred the simmering sauce.
“Me either!” For years, Lindsey had told Alexa stories about Hugo. Even though Alexa had never met him, she seemed to consider him as some kind of uncle. When she was accepted into the exchange program, the first thing she inquired about was Hugo. She wanted to mentor under him just as her mom had done.
“He’s the best teacher. He’s kind of a meddler, so don’t let him know anything about your social life,” Lindsey said. When she and Jack first started dating, Hugo needed to know all the details. He wanted to know where Jack was from, how they met, and most important, if they felt the amour. Lindsey had made the mistake of telling him they were indeed in love, and he was the one who had encouraged her to prompt Jack to put a lock on the bridge. At the time, she was painting a scene of the bridge and the locks, and Hugo had told her that paintings have more meaning when you experience them in real life. His advice was similar to the words of wisdom writers had been receiving for years.
“Paint what you know,” Hugo had said.
Lindsey loved the scene she had painted on the bridge, but she knew it was missing that je ne sais quoi. So, she had tried to experience the power of the locks. To her dismay, she was never able to complete the painting, because as hard as she tried, it never felt quite right. She’d left the unfinished canvas behind and completely forgotten about it until that moment.
Lindsey shook her head to release the memory and went back to making the pasta and focusing on Alexa.
“Though, I wouldn’t worry about Hugo meddling too much. I don’t expect you to have much of a social life because you’ll be busy studying and painting, right?” Lindsey prodded, hoping that her daughter didn’t feel the need to experience life in France the way she had.
“Yes, Mom,” Alexa said as she picked up The New York Times crossword puzzle from the kitchen table. “Ten letter word for soul mate?”
“Delusional?”
Alexa shook her head. “You’re terrible.”
“Or realistic. Why should there be only one person for everyone?” Lindsey asked. After Jack and then Dane, she no longer believed in “the one.”
“But what if there is?” Alexa asked. “What if there is just one person?”
As a mom, Lindsey wanted to keep her daughter’s hope and innocence alive, but as a woman who’d experienced love and loss, she wanted to stop her daughter from making the same mistakes she had. “Remember when I had to tell you there was no Tooth Fairy? Well… brace yourself again,” Lindsey said.
“Just because you were right about the Tooth Fairy, doesn’t mean you’re right about this.”
Lindsey shook her head. She wanted to explain further, but there was no use arguing. She was Alexa’s age once, and she knew how hopelessly romantic a young girl could be.
Alexa’s phone started buzzing and she looked down at the screen. “It’s Dad.”
“Right on time. Proof positive that love is like the Tooth Fairy.”
“Mom!” Alexa exclaimed as she picked up the phone. She started talking to her dad.
Lindsey went back to cooking, but she could overhear Dane tell Alexa to be careful.
While he hadn’t been a great husband, he’d always been a great father, and for that, Lindsey was appreciative.
“Say hi to Jane for me,” Alexa said before hanging up.
“Who’s Jane?” Lindsey asked.
“Dad and Marcie are separated. It looks like he’s headed for number three.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lindsey said, and she meant it. Marcie and Dane married two years after his and Lindsey’s