Pretty Falling Pieces by Isabelle Culpo
Chapter Six
The next day, an empty sketchbook is laid out in front of me. Its blank pages are waiting to be filled with colours, shapes, and patterns. It doesn’t usually take me this long to put pen to paper, but my mind is elsewhere. It’s rehashing the events of yesterday.
One minute I was securing the biggest project of my life, the next I spent the rest of the afternoon glued to my couch, with my arm wrapped in bandages.
I’ve always been squeamish when it comes to blood, so it surprised me how calm I felt when it happened. If anything, Theo seemed more distraught than me. When we came back to my apartment, his hands were shaking when he inspected the bandage.
It must get stressful at times, being responsible for worksites in a hazardous profession. Every time I’ve seen him, he’s been so confident and assured, but I could tell yesterday shook him.
He’s texted me a couple of times checking in, and I hate the thought of him having any guilt over what happened. Although it’s very sweet, I feel fine now and just want to put it behind me and focus on doing my job to the best of my abilities.
My phone lights up with an incoming call from Jess and I answer. “Hey, I’m sketching so I’ve got you on speaker, what are you up to?”
Well I was just about to start sketching.
“I’m good, just pretending to be busy till my next meeting at lunch.” I imagine her in her office, legs kicked up on the desk. “How are you by the way? Theo told us what happened yesterday.”
“Just a near miss, I barely came away with a scratch.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her if he said anything else.
“Trent said Theo was a wreck yesterday. He said he’s never seen him like that before, so it can’t have been nothing. He said you almost passed out on him and got a cut that needed stitches.”
“Honestly, Jess, it was just a near miss, and I’ve had worse papercuts. I’m perfectly fine now.”
“Theo was so worried about you, Imogen. Look, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this… It’s best coming from Theo himself—”
“What is it?” I ask.
Does he no longer want me on the project?
“Look, safety’s important to Theo. Something to do with his family. Trent says he’s fanatical about having everything as safe as possible on site.”
Oh.
Poor Theo. If his family were in some sort of accident, it’s no wonder he was so upset.
“I didn’t know.”
“According to Trent, he doesn’t talk about it, so I wouldn’t mention anything to him. I just wanted you to understand where he might have been coming from. He’s a really great guy, Imogen. Anyway, I was just ringing to make sure we’re all good for this weekend.”
“Yeah, it should be fun.” I’m looking forward to spending one-on-one time with her.
“Good! The weather’s supposed to be amazing so make sure you bring your bikini in case we decide to go for a swim.”
If by bikini, she means a one piece with the most coverage I can possibly find, then yes, I’ll be bringing that.
“Cool! I’ll pick up some groceries on Friday before we go.” Jess’s bach is remote, so we’ll probably spend most of the time there as it’s easier to cook than eat out. We’ve wasted away countless summer evenings on her deck enjoying charcuterie boards, wine, and gorgeous views of the beach.
“Perfect, I was thinking I could swing by your place around 4, so we can avoid the traffic”
“Sounds good, see you then!”
* * *
Despite my slow start of the morning, I’ve made major progress in just a few short hours, and now my neck is starting to seize up from being in one position too long.
In need of a break, I decide to pop down to my local cafe and get a drink and a bite to eat. Sometimes it’s good to have a little distance during the drawing process anyway because I come back and see things with fresh eyes.
While standing in line, I contemplate the various food choices in front of me. The banana caramel muffin looks the most appetising, but I know that’s something the old Imogen would’ve bought then regretted later.
Since I’ve spent most of my life overweight, I’ve always preferred to eat alone and in the privacy of my own home. Always feeling criticised by the choices I made, especially by my own family, who couldn’t be more disappointed they ended up with a fat daughter.
The memories stir shameful feelings, so I skip the muffin and opt for a gluten, dairy, and sugar-free chocolate slice instead. It’s probably got just as many natural sugars and fats as the muffin, but the “clean” ingredients make it seem more acceptable.
Even though I’m a fully-grown adult, I’m still expecting someone to lean over my shoulder and point out how fattening the slice is and how much I’ll need to exercise to burn it off. That’s the thing about being overweight—it’s like having your personal failures on display for the world 24/7. No matter how kind, intelligent, funny, cruel, manipulative, or athletic you are.
You’ll always be fat first.
Once I’ve placed my order, I take a seat and wait for my chai latte with almond milk, when I hear someone call my name.
“Imogen.”
I turn around and see Sarah standing behind me.
She’s dressed in workout gear, and her pale face is flushed.
“Hi, Sarah, how are you?” I’m cautious that this might be a repeat of the last time I ran into her.
“Good, I’ve just been on a run. I’m trying to shift a bit of weight.”
Really?
I wouldn’t have thought she had anything to lose. Sarah is relatively petite with a small rectangular frame. “Good for you,” I say, clearly she’s working on herself and who am I to judge that?
She takes the seat next to me at my table. “Look I’m sorry about the other day, I wasn’t feeling myself. I’d just had an argument with my boyfriend and was feeling a little out of sorts. I hope you can forgive me?”
“Of course, there’s nothing to forgive.”
“You look great by the way. How did you do it?” She tilts her head to the side and stares at me expectedly.
By it I’m assuming she means lost weight.
“Thank you. Just by staying active, I guess, and making healthier choices.”
She narrows her eyes. “C’mon Imogen, it can’t be just that. A year ago no one would’ve looked twice at you and then all of a sudden you look like a completely different person. You must have had some sort of work done.”
What? Who even says something like that?
I stand up from my seat. “No secret, I just changed my lifestyle. Anyway, it looks like my order’s ready I better get—”
“What are you up to this weekend?”
“Ah…I’m heading up north to my friend’s bach.”
“Oh okay,” she says.
I don’t want to be impolite, but my order’s ready and something about her inquisition is making me feel uncomfortable.
It gives me a little insight as to what life must be like for Jess, always being approached by strangers that want something from her. That’s one of the few benefits of being overweight that I never truly appreciated. No one wanted anything from me before.
She glances down at my arm. “I saw you with a man the other day. Is he your boyfriend?”
“No, he works at the construction firm that hired me as an interior designer. I cut myself on site, so he was just taking me home.”
Her eyes narrow. “That makes sense.”
What the heck is that supposed to mean?
It would be clear to anyone that Theo could be with a supermodel, but it still stings to think the thought of us as a pair is that unreasonable.
The barista calls my name again. Thank God!
“Anyway, that’s me. It was nice catching up with you.”
I grab my drink and thank the server, noticing Sarah watch me as I leave.
Holding my slice in one hand and drink in the other, I take a sip of my almond milk chai.
Yuck!
I will not be making that mistake again.
* * *
Now that my tummy’s full, I can get back into work. The slice, unlike the chai, was delicious, and it gave me the energy boost I needed to carry on with my work. As I head back to my desk, I quickly check my emails to make sure there’s nothing urgent I need to address.
An email from Theo is sitting in my inbox, the subject line: architect meeting. From that alone, I know the content is professional, but I still have butterflies in my stomach seeing his name.
From:Theo
To:Imogen
Subject:Architect Meeting
Imogen,
Our meeting with the architect has been pushed to next Tuesday @ 11 a.m.
I hope you can still make it.
Cheers,
Theo
Disappointment niggles at the back of my mind now that I won’t be seeing him until next week. The email was only sent ten minutes ago, so I type out a brief reply letting him know I can make it and hit send.
I always appreciate it when my clients or suppliers reply promptly, so I try to do the same. Within minutes, I get a notification that he’s sent another message.
From:Theo
To:Imogen
Subject:Architect Meeting
Great. Enjoy your long weekend, Imogen.
Talk soon.
I type out you too :) then delete it and exit out of my messages.
* * *
I can’t believe how quickly today has gone. Most of my draft concept sketches for the new waterfront project are completed. Once we meet with the architect, and I get a better idea of the final layout, I’ll be able to add the finishing touches. For now, I’m happy with the progress I’ve made.
A few hours later my stomach starts growling again, letting me know it’s dinner time. Continuing with my “healthy food choices,” I decide to make a pita filled with fresh vegetables and spicy hummus.
Just as I’m about to tuck in, my buzzer sounds from the reception. I debate ignoring it but walk over to the intercom anyway.
“Hello, Imogen speaking.”
“There’s a parcel down here for you to sign for.”
Ugh!
I reluctantly make my way down only to find the most stunning arrangement of pink lilies, peonies, and roses. I read the card.
Imogen,
Hope you’re feeling better.
Coleman Construction Team
The flowers are sweet but there’s a sting of disappointment at seeing the impersonal name of the sender. I place them in a vase when I get back upstairs, polish off my dinner then decide to pull out my easel.
Even though I’ve spent a better half of the day drawing, there’s something special about working freehand, not being bound to the structure and lines of a building.
Taking a 2B pencil, I start creating a rough outline.
One of the reasons I took up interior design was my passion for art. Since I wasn’t beautiful myself, I always sought to create beauty in other forms.
Soon enough a herd of elephants cross the savannah on my page.
If it’s any good I’ll hang it in my apartment, a constant reminder of my time at the sanctuary and my purpose for coming back.
To make sure those creatures remain on our planet for centuries to come.