by E. L. Todd
“I won’t.” I started walking to the sidewalk, keeping my hands by my sides.
She walked with me, purposely keeping three feet in between us. “Why did you want to meet today?”
“There’s something I want to show you.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
We left the park then crossed the street. After we walked a few blocks we reached the old firehouse. It’s been abandoned for at least a year. The fire station had been moved to a bigger lot.
Silke stared at the red bricks. “What does this mean?”
I pulled the key out of my pocket then opened the side door.
She followed me, growing more intrigued with every passing second.
We entered the garage through the office then stood in the center of the enormous room. The inside was still covered with bricks, and the cement floor was covered in dust from misuse.
I allowed Silke to look around before I spoke. “Okay, just hear me out.”
Silke crossed her arms over her chest.
“What if we put your gallery here? It’s perfect. This building is nearly seventy years old so it’s full of history. We can add a new coat of paint and resign it to be the perfect show room.” I walked around the room and tried to get her imagination going. “We can put ovens on this wall so you can bake more than one sculpture at a time. It’s got windows at the top for plenty of natural sunlight. Plus, it’s just a cool place.” I came back to her and waited for the glow to enter her face. She should be excited, over-the-moon, with this idea.
But she wasn’t.
“You don’t like it?”
“Arsen, I told you to back off.”
My heart fell. “Silke, I was walking by the other day when I stumbled upon it. It immediately made me think of you. I had to tell you.”
She avoided my gaze.
“Silke, I really think you can do this. I’m not just saying that because I’m in love with you.”
She winced at the affectionate words.
“You’re the most confident woman in the world. How can you not believe in yourself?”
“Showcasing art is a lot different than opening up a mechanic shop,” she snapped. “Your creations are criticized on a daily basis. People put a monetary value on what they think your piece is worth. Essentially, your soul is being judged. It’s tough, Arsen.”
“I get that,” I said. “I do.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“You missed every shot you don’t take. Think about it that way.”
She rolled her eyes. “You sound like a motivation poster at a high school.”
“Because I’m corny and I really believe in you. I’ve seen your work first hand. It’s absolutely amazing and meaningful. Maybe a few people will criticize you but that doesn’t mean anything. People think Van Gogh is overrated, and other people think Stephen King has lost his touch. Who cares what those people think. Focus on the people who do love your work and want you to keep doing it.”
She stared at the wall.
“Silke, I know you love your job at the museum but I think this is what you were meant to do.”
“If I give up my job and pursue this, I’ll never get it back. And what happens if I don’t make it?” She turned my way, her insecurities shining through. “I’ll lose a job I do love.”
“Why can’t you do both until your sculptures take off? That’s reasonable, right?”
She sighed. “And if it does take off but plummets later?”
I shrugged. “You can live with me and be a house wife.”
Flames leapt up in her eyes.
“What?” I asked innocently. “That offer will always be on the table, Silke. Let’s not pretend it won’t be. And I know you want that offer to always be on the table. You’re mad at me right now and hurt, but we both know you want me and I want you.”
She pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head.
“I didn’t bring you here to talk about that, honestly. But you know I’ll always take care of you if you need it.”
“I said we’re done.”
“So if I started seeing someone it wouldn’t bother you in the least?”
She avoided eye contact again.
“That’s what I thought. Now, what do you think of this place?”
Her voice came out as a whisper. “I don’t know…”
“I really like it. How can you not?”
“It’s not a traditional gallery.”
“Which is even better,” I said. “That’s perfect for New York.”
She stepped away from me and crossed her arms over her chest. “I could never afford a place like this—even if it is seventy years old.”
“I can give you the money.”
“Like I would ever take it.”
“Your dad wouldn’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t take a dime from him. He’s done enough for me.” She remained closed off from me, unwilling to see reason whatsoever. She was making excuse after excuse. She was avoiding her own destiny. “I have to go. I’ll see you around…” She headed to the office.
“Silke?”
She stopped but didn’t turn around.
“I really believe in you. Doesn’t that count for something?”
She continued to breathe but didn’t move. Seconds passed but they felt like minutes. Then she spoke. “It did—once upon a time.”
***
Ryan told me he wouldn’t help me out when it came to Silke. He said I was on my own because I was solely responsible for the break up. I hurt his daughter, and he didn’t condone that behavior.
He was disappointed in me.
But I didn’t know what else to do. Silke wouldn’t listen to me, and I really thought this was the next step she needed to take. She was too talented to work in a museum and appreciate the work of others. She was an artist, and she needed to shine.
When I went to Ryan’s shop he was in his office. His feet were on the desk, and there was a noticeable hole in the bottom of his jeans. He was on his phone, texting someone.
“Hey, are you busy?”
Ryan didn’t look at me but he set down his phone when he recognized my voice. “Never too busy for you, kid. What’s up?” He put his feet down and spun his chair toward me.
Even after what I did to Silke, he still treated me the same way. He could have turned his back on me but he didn’t. He was still here, holding a torch for me. His love was unconditional, and I was finally beginning to understand that. “It’s about Silke.”
He shook his head. “Arsen, I told you I won’t help you. I’m on her side.”
“I know. It’s not about that.” I took a seat in the old sofa. It had holes with cotton poking through.
“What’s up?”
“I think she should be a sculptor. I think she should be an artist with her own gallery and her own business. She’s really amazing at what she does. I don’t know anything about art, but I know she has talent.”
Ryan’s eyes lit up slightly. “She does have a knack for it.”
“So, I found this old firehouse on—”
“Sixth and Broadway. Yeah, I know where it is.”
“And I looked inside and I think it would be perfect for her. She could put a few ovens against the back wall, and the rest of the space can be for her pieces. It’s not a traditional gallery, but it’s unique.”
“It could work,” he said. “Being different is always a plus anyway.”
“I showed it to her, and I could tell she liked it. She looked around and really envisioned herself in that place. But then she chickened out and rejected the idea. She said she didn’t have the money to get the place. I told her I wouldn’t mind covering the expenses. But she said she wouldn’t take anything from me. Then I told her to ask you—”
He chuckled. “Being a parent is so damn expensive.”
“But she refused to ask you because you’ve already done so much for her. Bottom line, she’s not going
to do it. She doesn’t want to give up her job at the museum and risk something she loves. I’ve tried to change her mind but she doesn’t listen to anything I say.”
“And what do you want me to do about it?”
“You’re her father. She listens to everything you say.”
He chuckled. “It didn’t seem that way when she was growing up.”
“She does, Ryan. Talk to her.”
He rested his chin on his propped up arm and stared out the old window in his office. Cobwebs covered it, and dust was in the air. Ryan didn’t seem to care about anything unless it was directly related to inking. “She’s scared. And I don’t blame her for being scared. When I opened my shop when I was seventeen I was terrified. I was pulling out a loan I wasn’t sure I could ever pay back. She would be putting a lot on the line, and while she acts like the strongest woman in the world I know she’s very sensitive. It took her a long time to show me a single sculpture, and even then she didn’t think I liked it.”
“Tell her not to be scared. I know she would listen to me if…” I hated saying the words out loud. “If we were still together.”
Ryan stared at me but didn’t make a jab. “Both of my kids are unbelievably smart and gifted. But they both have one downfall. They don’t believe in themselves.”
I’d never gotten that impression from Slade.
“I’ll talk to her,” he said. “I think you should be there when I do.”
My heart lifted. “Yeah?”
“It’s always better for two people to say she’s talented rather than just one.”
***
Ryan and I walked into the apartment and saw Silke sitting at the kitchen table. Her laptop was out like she was working on something for the museum. She was still in her work clothes, a tight pencil skirt and a blue blouse.
Silke smiled when she saw her father. But when she realized I was there that smile disappeared.
Ryan grabbed two beers from the fridge then took a seat at the table.
I followed his lead.
Silke connected the dots quickly. “I told you I didn’t want to bring my father into this.”
“No, you said you didn’t want a dime from him,” I countered.
Silke gave me a pissed look. “You knew what I meant.”
I shrugged. “Obviously, I didn’t. And we can’t turn back time so let’s just hear him out.”
She closed her laptop and sighed at the same time.
“Sweetheart.” Ryan’s voice always took a different tone when he spoke to his daughter. He never babied her or coddled her, but he was definitely affectionate in discreet ways. He was different with Slade too, but it wasn’t the same as this. “Sculpting isn’t something you’d like to do?”
She shrugged. “I enjoy it but I can’t see myself making a career out of it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a lot more work than just making the pieces. You have to get people to actually buy your work and appreciate it. That’s not something I’m good at. And I’m not even that great as an artist.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I study art for a living. I’m constantly in the presence of perfection. Believe me, my stuff pales in comparison to the stuff I see on a daily basis.”
“You don’t think you’re a bit biased?” Ryan asked.
“No.”
“I know for a fact Van Gogh was never happy with anything he did,” Ryan said gently. “And I know Picasso destroyed his work on a daily basis because he thought it was piss. You aren’t any different than them, Silke.”
She released a sarcastic laugh. “I bet to differ, Dad.”
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
Up to this point her gaze was directed toward the kitchen. After a deep breath she turned his way.
“Have I ever encouraged you to do something if I didn’t think you could succeed? Would I ever put you in a situation where you would embarrass yourself? Would I tell you to quit your job and pursue this if I didn’t think you would make it?”
She didn’t have a response to that. She just watched him, speechless.
How did Ryan do that? He cornered people with just his words, time and time again.
“Silke, if I thought this was a mistake I would tell you. If I thought your pieces were mediocre I would tell you. I would much rather be the one to crush you instead of society. But I don’t think any of that. I really think you’re talented. Instead of being a pawn at the museum, you should be an artist that everyone admires. Your works should sit in people’s homes and elicit emotions from them. You’re meant to be remembered long after you’re gone.”
Her body softened under his gaze. She fidgeted with her fingers on the table.
“If this is something you’re passionate about, you should do it. If this is something that will make you happy, then you should definitely do it. Silke, is it something you would want to do?”
She didn’t answer right away. She continued to fidget with her fingers on the table. Her eyes moved to the surface then back to the refrigerator. When her voice came out, it was quiet. It was a side to her I’d never seen before. “Daddy, I’m scared.” She wouldn’t look him in the eye.
I watched their interaction and saw a whole new side to both of them. Silke constantly acted like she didn’t need anyone to take care of her, but that wasn’t the truth at all.
I couldn’t believe I pushed her away. She needed me, and I destroyed her.
She continued speaking, practically whispering. “What if no one likes my work? What if I open this gallery and don’t make a single sale? What if people make fun of me for it? What if—”
“You succeed and have your dream job?” Ryan said gently. “Sweetheart, I think the risk is worth taking. You have so much potential you haven’t tapped into. And I’m always here to hold your hand along the way.”
She continued to rub her fingers together.
Ryan reached across the table and wrapped his large fingers around hers. “Silke, you can do this. I know you can.”
Silke finally met his gaze, her eyes moist. “You really believe that? You aren’t just saying that?”
He leaned forward. “I’m not just saying that. I think you’re the smartest and most talented woman in the world. I know I’m your father and I’m a little bit biased, but I believe that.” He smiled at her then patted her hand. “Now, how about we open this gallery? Together?”
She blinked her eyes and dispelled the moisture. A smile formed on her lips and she took a deep breath. Then she nodded. “Thank you, Dad.”
“You don’t need to thank me, sweetheart.”
“You’re the greatest dad anyone could ask for…”
His eyes softened like he was truly touched. “You and Slade are just great kids. You make my job easy.”
She chuckled. “Slade? A great kid?”
He shrugged. “It took him a lot longer to be great than you. But he got there eventually.”
“Thanks to Mom’s backhand.”
“And her nice bitch slap.” He rubbed the side of his face. “I’ve gotten that a few times.”
She laughed. “I’m glad I was never the recipient of that.”
“Because you were always a perfect daughter.” He stood up then hugged her, holding her just the way he held me when I was down. Then he kissed her on the forehead before he stepped back. “We better get to planning.”
“Yeah,” Silke answered.
Ryan turned to me. “And we have another expert businessman to help us out.”
“I wouldn’t say expert,” I said. “But I’ll help in any way that I can.”
Silke’s eyes moved to mine, and like she was embarrassed I witnessed her tender interaction with her father, she turned away.
Chapter Fifteen
Slade
After work I met Dad at Mega Shake. At this time of day I was usually starving so the second we walked inside I ordered the Mega Burger with two patties then carried my tray to the booth in th
e corner.
Without sparing a single moment, I bit into it and devoured it.
Dad ate at a normal pace and watched me the entire time. “Just got out of hibernation?”
Food was in my mouth but I spoke anyway. “Trinity only eats healthy, so this is a treat for me.”
“What does it matter if she eats healthy?”
“Because I have to do it too. It’s a team effort.”
“Eating healthy isn’t a bad thing.”
“I’m just tired of eating kale and zucchini every single day. It’s nice to eat something manly. You know, with fat and carbs.”
“Vegetables have carbs.” Dad ate his fries one at a time.
“Yeah, but not delicious ones.”
“And kale has lots of antioxidants in it.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t care if kale has unicorn blood. It’s rabbit food.” I finished my burger than moved onto my fries. “Damn, that was good.” Somehow, I was still hungry. My body needed more grease.
Dad sipped his soda while keeping his eye trained on me. “What’s new with you?”
The question didn’t sound normal, not the way he usually spoke to me. It almost sounded like a challenge, like he was digging. “What’s new with you?”
He kept eating his fries. “Your sister is opening her own sculpture gallery, with the help of Arsen and I.”
“She is?” I blurted. “Since when?”
“Arsen pitched the idea but Silke wasn’t into it. After I spoke to her she changed her mind.”
“Why wouldn’t Silke be into that?” I asked. “Owning a gallery and being your own boss sounds awesome. I know she likes the museum but this would be way cooler. Besides, she’s following in our footsteps.”
“She made a few excuses, like she didn’t have the money and didn’t want to borrow it from anyone. But I knew what the real reason was.”
“What?” I asked.
“She’s scared.” He finished his fries then sipped his soda again. “She’s scared she’s not good enough to make it on her own. She’s scared she’ll quit her job and lose everything she’s worked for. She’s afraid she won’t make rent. She’s scared for a lot of reasons.”
