by Megan Rivers
Confused, I left the still laughing Galvin to find a mirror... then I started laughing. I was too tired to wash my face before bed and all that mascara and lipstick smeared. On top of that my hair looked like a rat's nest. I immediately hopped into the shower and scrubbed myself clean. Fifteen minutes later I rejoined Galvin wearing the silk robe from De La Dream. Galvin sat up in bed, put a hand behind his head and wiggled his eyebrows. “Much better,” he said, his eyebrows still jumping.
I sat down beside him. “So, what's in store today?” I asked wondering how much coffee I needed to keep up with him.
“It's Thursday,” he said like I knew what that meant.
Wait. “What? Has it been three days?” I asked.
He bit his bottom lip and nodded. Jeez, where did the time go? I slumped over, disappointed that I had to leave today. “It went by too fast.”
“Agreed,” he said. “And that call was the car. They'll be here for you in half an hour.” I slouched even more, disappointed that we spent the morning sleeping.
“Well, it only takes me five minutes to get dressed,” I said. “Which leaves us with twenty-five minutes together.”
“Hmm,” Galvin said with a smile. He pulled me on top of him, “We could get a lot done in twenty-five minutes.”
I blushed, feeling his hands crawling up my back and pull me in for a kiss. I was suddenly fully aware that I was wearing nothing but a silk robe.
And the twenty-five minutes that followed were solely between Galvin and I. I hate to disappoint you by leaving out the juicy details, but somethings are meant to stay private.
♪ ♪ ♪
These events made it harder to say good bye to him. Luckily, his schedule allowed him to accompany me to the airport, but not to my terminal; we had to say goodbye to each other in the car, with Hector in earshot.
“I'll be in New York in June. We're starting off our summer tour there,” he said with his arm around me and the other arm tracing goosebumps up and down my arm as I leaned into him.
“I'll be in Chicago. Meadow and Kevin are flying me to Chicago for the summer.” I couldn't believe I was disappointed by the fact I would be with the Langstons!
“We'll be in Chicago at the end of August, I think,” he said, trying to remember his exact schedule.
“School starts back at the end of August, I'll be in Maine.”
“Well, I'll definitely be there in October, for your birthday.”
I did the math in my head, “That's nearly eight months away!”
“Maybe we can sneak in a three-day vacation like this one,” he said, shrugging. I know he was trying to stay optimistic.
“Maybe,” I mirrored him. His schedule was much too hectic when he was on tour, so I didn't hold my breath.
♪ ♪ ♪
It was a bit hard to return to life in Camden. Life seemed more dull―everything seemed to move in slow motion. Every day I'd go to school, do my homework dutifully at the library, Galvin would call at six o'clock, then I'd fall asleep reading or drawing. It was all too painfully boring and slow-paced.
My aunt would shuffle into the living room at eight A.M. every morning and watch the news until her soaps came on at noon. And the only food she kept was canned soup, applesauce, and crackers. School was just as redundant and hilariously easy. I felt I was going to snap if I didn't get a change of pace.
At first I applied for a job at Green Caffeine, a local coffee house, to earn money for food that challenged my colon... and the coffee, but it ended up starting a new chapter of my life.
XVI.
Slow Burning Fire
“Breakdown More” – Eric Hutchinson
Sadly, by the end of the school year, I did something I promised myself I would never do: I dropped out of school. High school seemed to get in the way and the curriculum was too easy; I was bored. That summer in Chicago I studied for my G.E.D. Despite Kevin urging me to stick it out for a high school diploma.
Meadow was a year older than me, so she had just graduated. She was planning on attending the University of Chicago. She helped me study as much as she could and when I returned to Maine in August, I took the test.
My plan was simple: work hard at Green Caffeine for four months, save up money, and start college courses at the University of Maine in Belfast―which was fifteen miles away―in December. Then, one day I met a marvelous woman at Green Caffeine named Marie. She was a curator at Bayview Gallery in Camden. I was on a break and was reading a book on landscape painters which I had borrowed from the library. We had a passionate talk about art history and at the end of my break, she gave me her business card and said to call her if I was interested in an internship at the gallery. Um, YES.
So for those four months life was busy and each day bled into the next. I worked as often as I could and I spent my free time studying art just as much. It’s hard to believe, but I was thankful for it. Every minute of the day my mind was occupied on things other than myself and how horrible I still felt on the inside. The idea that my mother was no longer with me or a telephone call away ate away at me during those quiet unfilled moments of the day. I was learning to live with it like a person learns to live with a severed limb: in disbelief and pain.
With Galvin on tour, and the time differences, our calls weren't daily anymore. He still wrote to me nearly every day, but there was more and more tension in our relationship. Yes, we wanted to be together, but our schedules just didn't allow it. Having a job and an internship, I couldn't pick up and leave for a three day vacation with him. And Galvin, on a tour bus until September, didn't have the freedom to take a single day to devote to our relationship. I was beginning to wonder if his October trip would make or break us.
He still made me happy when we talked. I could turn his day around in a single phone call too, but those were few and far between. One night, after a particularly stressful day at Green Caffeine, I called his cell phone. It was late and I doubted that he'd answer, but I wanted to hear his voice, even if just a voicemail recording.
“'eeeey! Christie!” I heard his voice, unusually chipper, over some thumping music. “What up girlfriend?” When Galvin started sounding like an American wanna-be with saggy pants, he was drinking.
“Galvin, where are you? I can barely hear you,” There was loud music in the background and I was trying not to be too loud as Odilia had already gone to bed and the volume of the television wouldn't hide the fact I was on the phone this late at night.
“With my dawgs, having fun!!! You should come out with us!” He exclaimed like it was an amazing idea. “Leo already left, but I can party with you, if you know what I mean!”
After the day I had, I did not have the patience to deal with this. Before I could respond, he made a comment I'd rather not repeat about our last morning together, which caused a reaction from the people around him. I blushed all the way in Maine and hung up on him, fuming. The next day he called and apologized, promising me he'd never do that again. I was so put out with him that I never told anyone about what happened, not even Meadow.
A few weeks later, I was at Green Caffeine straightening up the floor after a very busy Sunday morning. Someone had left a copy of People Magazine on one of the tables. Normally I would have tossed it in with the other magazines we had, but an unflattering photograph of Galvin was on the front with the title “Does Galvin Kismet have a drug problem?” I rolled it up and hid it in the waistband of my jeans, underneath my apron, like a secret to be ashamed of. During my next break I sat in the alley and read every word of the article. Twice.
When I got off work, I practically ran to the telephone booth on the corner, outside the drug store. I pulled out the phone card that Kevin religiously updated for me. I knew Galvin was in Florida, so we were in the same time zone, but it also meant he was either doing a sound check before the show or had just finished it and only had about two hours before the show.
No hello's or darling, I miss yous. I confronted him about an article I read in People Magazine
. “Drugs Galvin? DRUGS?” I nearly shrieked, hitting the rolled up magazine against the phone booth. He knew, more than anyone, how I felt about that subject.
He tried to calm me down by saying he didn’t think I’d ever find out and it was only his first and last time. That, of course, made me red in the face and if he would have been standing in front of me at that moment, I would have stormed out on him, screaming the whole way out the door.
Money and fame change people. That’s an undeniable fact. When I first met Galvin he was still untouched by it―still pure, but he was beginning to change. I was totally livid at the situation―an ice age couldn’t have cooled me down at that point.
Galvin blamed it on how lonely he was and that nobody understood how hard it was to live his life every day.
“I will fly into Camden for your birthday for a whole week―I promise―and we can talk everything out Christie. I just miss you every moment that it hurts,” he said.
I rolled my eyes but knew not to say anything else to him for fear that I might regret them.
XVII.
Art Imitates Life
“Demons” – Imagine Dragons
I channeled all my frustration into my work. Marie and I always had such animated conversations about art. She taught me a lot and would give me materials to help me further my studies. I was amazed at how much she knew and how animated and excited she was to show up to work everyday.
Marie graduated with both an undergraduate and graduate degree from Sarah Lawrence College and her dream job was to restore paintings. She ended up in Maine because she chose her husband over the Big City. She said that this―life in Camden―was better than anything she could’ve dreamed of for her future. “The greatest things that happen in life are unplanned,” she told me one long-shadowed afternoon. I bit my tongue as to not say, “So do the worst things.”
“Have you thought about any other schools than in Belfast?” she asked me one September morning before opening the gallery.
“I try not to,” I admitted, trying to busy myself with the dusting wand.
This puzzled her. “Why not?”
I took a deep breath. “I only have a G.E.D. for starters, I also can't be away from Camden until I turn eighteen, and I simply can't afford anything else.”
Marie pondered about this for a moment then disappeared into her office. It wasn't until my hours were over that she asked me into her office. “Christie,” she began, motioning for me to take a seat. “You are a very smart young lady. I enjoy talking to you about art; our conversations always get so passionate and they remind me of my time in college. Do you know what you want to do?”
I thought about it for a moment. “I guess I don't really know. I just want to get a college degree.”
She mulled that over as if letting the taste of my words sink in. “What about art history?”
“I could do that?” I was surprised. I thought I had to go to college to be an office worker like the rest of the population and work in a cubicle. “I could make art history a job?”
Marie nodded enthusiastically. “I printed this off the internet for you. Sarah Lawrence offers this art scholarship to one incoming freshman each year. The student that received it in the fall is transferring next semester so they're offering it again. If you get it, it will cover your tuition, you just have to pay for your books and supplies.”
It sounded too good to be true. “But what chance do I have? It's Sarah Lawrence and I didn't even graduate high school,” I said dismissing the print out and putting it back on her desk.
“Don't do that to yourself. You have an SLC alumni sitting in front of you which helps. Also, there are not as many incoming students during the second semester so it won't be as competitive. Lastly, you are very intelligent; beyond your years. If you took the ACTs and got a decent score, this could be within your grasp.” She handed the print out back to me.
Marie made a lot of good points. I bit my bottom lip considering it. “It doesn't hurt to try,” she encouraged me with a smile. “What's the worst thing that could happen? You don't get it and you go back to your original plan.” I raised my eyebrows at that comment. It couldn't hurt...
As each day passed I became more excited at the prospect. It was like wishing for a bicycle on Christmas and each day that passed you imagined more and more about what you would do if you got it. Could this be true? I have a chance of getting my education at Sarah Lawrence? It was amazing! Of course I had to (1) get a decent score on the ACTS, (2) get a portfolio together, and (3) somehow pay for a trip to New York for an interview, but it seemed completely worth it.
♪ ♪ ♪
As soon as I could, I made a beeline for the public library and checked out an ACT study guide―I only had two weeks to study and one of those weeks was filled by Galvin's trip. The book became an extension of myself; every spare second my nose was in it―during breaks at work, on the bus, as I ate, and even at the airport in Boston (I got about three hours of study time between the bus to Portland and the train to Boston) waiting for Galvin's plane.
I was going through my flashcards when he arrived.
“No hello?”
Oh, that voice! I looked up to his pouty lips as he took off his sun glasses. Why had I ever gotten mad at him? My flashcards fell to the floor as I jumped into his arms.
When he held me, the world was different; safer. I buried my face in his neck and inhaled his every pore. God, I missed him. All our frustrations seemed to melt away in our embrace. He held me so tight―his tight hold said so much.
After we finally let go, he put me down, but cupped my face with his hands. His face looked pained. “You have no idea how much I missed you,” he admitted, then kissed me long and deep.
We spent a good twenty minutes just standing there, to be in a moment together. When a few people realized the man in the pub hat and leather jacket was Galvin Kismet and took a few photos, Galvin's face changed to hide any portrayal of feelings. He grabbed my hand and walked through a special door where an employee was waiting with Galvin's rental car.
When a few miles separated us from the airport, Galvin pulled into an almost empty parking lot and turned off the car. “What's wrong?” I asked.
He leaned his head back and took a deep breath. “Silence,” he said, barely above a whisper. He turned to me and opened his eyes. “Right now, it's just you and me, no one else. Nothing else.”
I looked at him quizzically, trying to unravel a deeper meaning to his words. He took my hand and closed his eyes. “Just enjoy the peace with me a moment.” I closed my eyes too and just... well, I just was.
“I am so sorry, Christie,” he started. “For putting you through all this,” his voice was shaky and his eyes glistened. “You know what my life is like, you lived in it a very short time. You're my lifeline to a happier time, another world.” He sighed heavily, pain carrying through this breath. “It is so hard to live in any world without you.
“I see Trey with Leah and know I have that, but only a handful of days during the year―if we're lucky.” I pierced my lips together because if this wasn't a break up speech, it sure made me feel guilty.
“And this is all coming out wrong.” Galvin put his hands over his face and groaned at himself in frustration. “I just want to tell you that you make me better―you make me happier. You're a good thing in my life and I want more of it. I can't do it alone. Just,” he paused and let out a deep breath, “just think about it, okay?”
I nodded, not ready to respond, I had to digest his words―let them sink into the right places.
A few slow-paced moments later, he asked, “Ready?” with a half smile on his lips. I could tell that he was exhausted from either being beaten down by some pretty hard truths or a break from his fast-paced life.
When we arrived in Camden, he checked in at Abbington Cottage, which was only two miles from Green Caffeine and five miles from Odilia's house.
“Don't be offended if I fall asleep,” Galvin warned as we wa
lked in the door of his suite. Night was closing in and not one ounce of the setting sun penetrated through the curtains. He lied down and motioned for me to be beside him.
He put his arm around me and I put my head on his chest. It was a healing moment. We were together again after eight months of a rocky path where we had to rely on letters and (seldom) phone calls. The drama, the emotions bubbling over the top of the pot, began to settle as I listened to the rhythm of his heart and feel the warmth of his firm body... and it was just us. So perfectly us. Time would heal the cuts and bruises these months delivered to our relationship.
♪ ♪ ♪
I woke up with the sun and pulled out my study guide. Galvin still slept soundly at eight o'clock; if sleep was medicine for his angst, he was under a strong prescription. I left him a muffin from the Farmer's Market on the city green and a note because I had to work an eight hour shift in exchange for having yesterday off, but I was almost sure he'd still be sleeping by the time I returned.
Work was like any other day, except I had a special treat: Galvin was physically waiting for me when I got home, which was unlike any other day. It made the autumn sun a little brighter and put a spring in my step.
Business went on as normal; brewing, cleaning, and chatting with the regulars. It was nearing the end of Leaf Peeper season where people drove through places in New England to see the colors of the autumn leaves, so our influx of customers had dwindled, despite it being a Sunday.
At around 2 PM, I was in the back room doing inventory for a shipment we received when a fellow barista, Brooke, came up behind me. “Oh my goodness, Christie! You'll never guess!” Her blonde braid danced over her shoulder. “In the far left corner! He ordered a green tea! Come!” She tugged on my arm and pulled me to the front counter before I could check the security camera monitor.
There, in his pub hat and leather jacket, sat Galvin tucked in the corner, away from the windows and the majority of the other tables. He saw me, raised his cardboard to-go cup, and smiled. I couldn't help but return his smile. Luckily there was only one other customer―a regular, Mr. Carroll, a local author and newspaper columnist―who sat on his laptop, emerged in his own literary world. I could definitely sneak in my last break.
