A Sunrise for Zoe

Zoe barely made it in time. “I’m here! I’m here,” she gasped, holding out the canvas as she bent over. The man who was about to lock the door scowled, but took the painting and rushed into the building. Zoe followed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. The art hall stretched out before her, inviting her to come look at the many masterpieces hanging up on the walls, but she ignored the urge and hurried after the man with the painting. She didn’t have time to drool over them, no matter how much she wanted to. 

They entered backstage to find Mr. Booker pacing worriedly back and forth. The man thrust the canvas under his nose. He glanced at it, then at Zoe, then snatched it and practically leaped onstage. He began the presentation smoothly, and Zoe sighed in relief despite the dirty looks everyone was giving her. She made it - barely.

She had been so happy when Mr. Booker had asked her personally to make a copy of the famous work of art, but she hadn’t realized how much time it would take out of her day. She slaved for hours over that, and still barely got it done on time. 

After Zoe got paid, her job was done, so she hurried back out and into her dad’s old, yellow truck. She had only ten minutes left until she had to pick up the dogs for her dog-walking business. She arrived at Mrs. Jones’s house right as the clock hit 10:30, grabbed her chihuahua, and hurried onwards. 

Zoe struggled to keep her legs from tangling in six leashes as she walked through Sunrise Park, her favorite place to go in town. She sighed in relief when she saw her usual bench, where she would let the dogs run loose in the fenced area. It was underneath a giant oak tree, its broad branches casting dappled shade on the worn wood of the bench. She couldn’t wait to get back to her new painting she was working on, and… Wait. Someone was sitting at her bench. A guy sat on the gray boards, hunched over, dressed fully in black. Before she could think about it further, she marched up to him - or did her best with six dogs wrapping their leashes around her - and started to ask him what he was doing at her bench. 

But then he looked up, and she stopped. His dark eyes were so… sad. He looked miserable, like he had nothing left to live for. So, instead of calling him out for stealing her favorite place, she asked, “Do you mind if I sit here?” He scooted over to one end of the seat in answer, and she went about releasing the dogs to play. She sat down carefully, watching him, but he didn’t seem to be paying any attention. Pulling her canvas and paints from her huge duffel, she began painting the intricate scene before her. 

Zoe tried to come here at the same time every day so the light would be the same, and so far, it was working well enough. She had finished most of the sky and part of the gravel path that curved into the bushes across from her. 

“That’s really good.” 

Zoe jerked, splattering paint all over her painting as well as herself. Frustrated, Zoe began swiping at her shirt, which only made it worse. She took a deep breath to calm herself and tried not to look at the canvas. She could fix it, but it would be a pain to redo the details she had worked so hard on. Taking another deep breath, she turned to look at the guy sitting next to her. Guilt was smeared all over his face, but he met her eyes unwaveringly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize I would startle you.” 

She sighed. “That’s okay,” she said, even though it really wasn’t. “I can fix it.” He gave her a small smile, but it wasn’t heartfelt. He made to get up, but Zoe asked, “What’s your name?” 

He stopped, and, without looking back, replied, “Ross.” Then he walked away. 

When Zoe came back to the park the next day, she half expected Ross to be there again. But when she rounded the bush, the bench was sitting empty. She frowned and sat down. When she pulled out her paintbrush, she found her hand hovering over the canvas, unmoving. She kept telling herself to start painting, but her body seemed to say, “Not today.” The supplies were slipped back into the duffel, and Zoe’s eyes roamed over the park. Her mind, rarely free to think about things other than work, was full of images, swirling around like a tornado of memories. But she found herself focusing on the ones from the previous day. She hadn’t missed the disappointment in her stomach when she had found the bench unoccupied. 

So absorbed in mulling this over, she didn’t notice someone approaching behind her. 

“Not painting today?” Zoe whipped around, but relaxed when she saw Ross. She smiled at him, but he barely returned it. She watched him settle down in the same spot as yesterday. “What’s your name? I told you mine.” The sentence was made to have a touch of humor, but Ross said it in an almost deadpan way. Zoe assumed he was just tired; he had dark circles underneath his eyes. 

“I’m Zoe.” She made several attempts at further conversation, but he didn’t quite reciprocate. 

But as she began to collect the dogs, he said, “So, you have a dog-walking business?” 

“Yeah. Why? Do you have a dog?” 

“Yes, actually, I do. I haven’t been able to walk him very much lately. Do you think you have room for one more?” 

“Probably. Can I have your phone number? I’ll check my schedule and get back to you on that.” 

“Sure.” 

She typed it in, and asked, “What’s your last name?”

“Warner.” Zoe almost dropped her phone. Warner? 

“Cool,” she managed to get out. “See you around.” She couldn’t get away fast enough. 

The Warners were the Bright’s (Zoe’s family’s) arch nemesis. They used to run rival art studios, but her father’s had gone out of business, and the Warner family was practically rich now. If her family knew she had been talking to a Warner… Zoe shuddered at the thought. She had to stop talking to him, but she didn’t want to find a different bench. Maybe she would come at a different time? No, that wouldn’t work. She would just have to explain it to Ross and hope he understood. 

She formulated what to say to him as she delivered the dogs to their owners. 

“Hey, my family hates your family, so I can’t talk to you anymore. Sorry. No, no, that won’t work,” she mumbled to herself. 

By the time she was standing in front of him, she still didn’t know what to say. So she didn’t. Swallowing her misgivings, she sat next to him as usual and began painting. But the silence between them got awkward, and she couldn’t focus. Putting down her brush, she asked, “Would you like to talk about something?” 

After a moment, he replied, “No.” 

“Why not?” Zoe turned to him, exasperated. Then, noticing his expression, added softly, “Is something wrong?” She didn’t miss the way he tensed up when she asked, but she didn’t back down. “You’ve been so closed off ever since I met you. What’s wrong?” He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again. 

Just as she was going to leave, Ross said quietly, “My dad died two months ago.” Zoe froze, understanding washing over her. How did she miss that? She had known that Dan Warner had died before they met, but her mind just hadn’t connected the dots. She sat back down. 

“I’m so sorry.” He may have ruined her father’s business, but she would never wish death on anyone. He chuckled slightly, leaning back to stare at the sky. 

“No need to be sorry. It’s actually kinda nice that you know why I act the way I do.” Suddenly, he straightened. “Do you, maybe, want to have dinner with me sometime?” Zoe’s eyebrows shot up. Did he just ask her on a date? “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, obviously. It’s not like I meant to -”

“I would love to.” Wait, what? Since when do I agree to go on dates with Warners? she thought. But some of the worry melted away when a huge grin split Ross’s face. It was the first real smile she’d seen on him, and it actually looked kind of nice. Zoe deliberately cleared her mind and smiled back. She was going on a date. With Ross Warner. 

Zoe’s mother called just as she was finishing getting ready for her date on Saturday night.

“Hey, Mom!” she said cheerfully. 

“Zoe, it’s so good to hear your voice. I have big news!” 

“What?” She checked her watch. Ross would be here in ten minutes, so hopefully this announcement would be short. 

“So, since Dan Warner died -” I wasn’t surprised to hear her say his name with disgust - “his studio has been up for grabs. And we just bought it!” I nearly dropped my phone - again. 

“What?!” My stomach churned. Ross had just admitted that the studio was being sold because they needed the money. Apparently they weren’t as rich as they seemed. 

“I know! Isn’t it great?” Just then, a knock came from the entryway. 

“Uh, yeah, that’s great Mom! Gotta go! Bye!” She hurriedly hung up and opened the door - and dropped the phone. Ross was decked out in a full black suit, bowtie and everything. His hair was combed back, but it was already rebelling, and a few black strands hung loose on his forehead. I suddenly felt insignificant in my simple blue dress. Zoe realized she was staring, and quickly looked away. 

Ross said, “You look… amazing.” Awe filled his voice, and she blushed. 

“You look pretty good, too.” 

The car ride was the most awkward they had ever been, even more than when they had just met. Ross finally broke the silence. 

“Do you think it’s too much?” 

“What?” 

“The suit. Is it too fancy?” Zoe laughed aloud at that, and the tension dissipated. 

When they arrived at the restaurant, they were way too overdressed compared to everyone else, but Zoe didn’t care. She was just happy to be there with Ross. They talked throughout the entire date, about family (but Zoe carefully left out her last name), about their jobs, about everything. Once Ross came out of his shell, he was really nice to talk to. 

She decided not to tell anyone about Ross, otherwise they would want to meet him, and that was bound to go badly. As they left the restaurant, the waiter that packaged up their leftovers said, “Here you go Ms. Bright.” Zoe didn’t notice anything wrong until she realized Ross had stopped walking. He stood outside the door, staring at the ground. And then it finally set in. Zoe’s mind went into panic mode, but her body froze. She couldn’t move or speak. 

“Zoe Bright? That’s your full name?” Zoe swallowed hard. 

“Yes.” 

He was quiet for a moment. “Why didn’t you leave when I told you my name? Why were you nice to me? My family practically stole your family’s legacy.” He shook his head with a rueful smile. 

“You should hate me.” 

“But I don’t.” Zoe’s feet finally moved, and she walked over to Ross, stopping a few feet away. “I’m sorry. I was going to stop talking to you at first. But I couldn’t figure out how to say it to you, so I didn’t. And then I realized, you’re actually a really nice guy, and I like you. Really like you.” She stopped, took a breath, and plowed on. “I know our families absolutely hate each other, but I don’t hate you. Please don’t hate me. I’m so sorry for keeping it from you.” Ross was silent for so long that Zoe began to turn and leave. 

“I like you, too.” Ross raised his head to look at her. “Really like you.” They stared at each other for a moment longer, and then he wrapped her in a hug. Zoe didn’t hesitate. She squeezed him tightly, grinning so widely it hurt. 

A week later, Ross and Zoe sat on their bench, pressed against each other, watching the sunrise. Zoe sighed and snuggled closer. When she told her family who her new boyfriend was, they nearly freaked out. Her big brother had managed to calm them down, and they congratulated her, despite their anger. The past week and a half had been the happiest of her life. She and Ross laughed and joked about how unexpected it was that they had fallen in love. 

As they watched the sunrise one morning, Ross said, “I have an idea.” Zoe twisted around so she could look at him. His eyes were so much happier lately. They no longer were perpetually sad, as they had been at first. “What if we started our own art studio? I’m not much of an artist, but I could take care of the business stuff, and you could teach kids how to paint or something.” 

“I love that idea! What would we call it, though?” Her face scrunched up in thought. Ross thought for a moment. 

“What about the Sunrise Art Studio?” Zoe smiled.

“It’s perfect.”