by Amber Lacie
“How long are we going to stand in the doorway before it gets awkward?” He fidgets with the cuff of his sleeve, while looking down at me.
“I’m sorry. It’s just, well, I wasn’t expecting anyone. Come on in.” Stepping back, I wave him in. He steps in and softly closes the door behind him, as I head into the living room. He looks around the room a bit before he finally takes a seat next to me.
“I don’t know how to do this, so I think it would be best if I just say what comes to mind.”
“Okay.”
“I haven’t been the greatest dad or even person since your momma passed. I knew I was failing you, but I was so lost in the dark it didn’t matter. I can’t take back any of the things I have done or said. What’s done is done. What I can do is try my damnedest to help you.”
“I get it now. You and momma, I mean. I get why you were the way you were. It’s not like I helped. I blamed you for everything.”
Taking a deep breath, he grabs my hand in his. “I fully believe your momma is still here with me. It might not be her exactly, but more pieces she has left behind…I think she knew I needed her, so she left some of herself behind. I still smell her perfume every now and again. Every once in a while, I swear I can almost hear her voice.” He swallows and I watch, as tears roll down his cheeks. “It still hurts. It will always hurt, but I got so lost in the pain I let it ruin the world around me. I pushed you away. I hurt you. That’s not what your momma would have wanted. It’s not what I wanted, but I was stubborn and selfish. I couldn’t see I was hurting the people around me.”
“Is that what I’m doing? Am I pushing my pain onto everyone else? Am I hurting them, Dad?”
“I don’t know, but when your friend called, it sounded that way. You can’t end up like me. I won’t promise you’ll find love again. I won’t promise you sunshine and flowers. What I can promise you is the ease of the pain in your chest.” He nods towards me, where my palm is pressed up against my heart.
“Death is dark and ugly, Carsten. It’s a black hole that will suck you in if you let it. It will destroy everything. Let it go. It will still hurt tomorrow and the day after that. But it gets better. You won’t notice right away, but one day you’ll be laughing and when you think of him you’ll smile. You’ll close your eyes and remember everything about him, but it won’t hurt like it does now.”
“How long, Daddy? How long do I have to wait? I feel like I’m dying inside. I don’t want to let go because then it will be over. Everything we had, our love, it will be gone. I can’t lose him twice.”
“I know and that’s where I went wrong. I thought if I could just hold onto her, I’d be alright. I realized something when I let go and I stepped out into the world without her. She’s still here. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You got to let go of that big black hole inside you. If he’s here, he can’t reach you through that. Let go, so you can keep the pieces he left for you.” He sniffs and looks out the sliding glass doors. I scoot over and lay my head on his knee. His hand pats my back and we stay like that for hours.
We talk about the meetings he attends every week. He cleaned up the mechanic’s shop down the road and has started rebuilding motorcycles again. It was always a hobby for him, but now he is thinking of opening the doors to the public. He asks about the studio. I tell him about my opening show and how good things have been going, despite only Janel and I running things. To be honest it is mostly Janel, I just paint, but he tells me it counts.
“I was there the day of your opening. I came in late. He saw me. We talked just for a minute. He said you weren’t ready to talk to me just yet and if I promised not to approach you, he’d let me stay. So, I did as he asked and stood at the back of the crowd. There were so many people in fancy suits just swirling around you, but you didn’t notice. You moved about the gallery with such grace. It reminded me of the way your momma was always so sure of herself.”
Sitting up, I tuck my legs underneath me. “You were there?”
“Yes. In fact, I bought one of your paintings, but your boy put it under a different name. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but I guess it doesn’t matter now since I’m here.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s the way he wanted it. Anyways, I have been to a few of them now. I always hide behind the other people walking around in awe of your work. I was there at the last one. Some other fella had his statues up for people to see, but you weren’t there. I looked for you.”
“I was in the back. I don’t really like being around people anymore.”
He nods his head in agreement, as if he knows exactly what I mean. Wiping his hands across his knees, he stands and fixes his tie. “Look. I talked to Becca. She told me about your offer in New York. Take it. Go. Don’t wait here for him to come and find you. Did you ever stop and think that maybe he’s the one who wants you in New York? Maybe it’s one of the pieces he left behind for you to find.” He doesn’t say anything else. Giving me a soft smile, he turns and walks from the room. I hear the door click behind him, as his words click into place.
We always talked about opening a gallery in New York. For the past five months, I have turned down the offer and every day my world has grown darker. Oh, my God. I have been so lost in myself that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I jump up from the couch and run to the kitchen. I dump everything from my purse onto the counter. Flipping through the page of my planner. I find the yellow sticky note. Taking a deep breath, I reach for the phone and dial the numbers written in black ink.
“Go for Peter.”
I don’t know what it is, but I hate the way he answers his phone. “This is Carsten Winters from Escapes Gallery. I’m returning your call.” I tilt the phone away from my mouth and take a deep breath. “If the offer for New York still stands, I’d like to look at the proposal with the understanding that I will still be involved with the gallery here in Bloomington. My business partner Janel will also be included in any agreements. We are a package deal.”
“Of course, I completely understand. Tell you what, I’ll give Mr. Dorsey your contact info. Someone from his office will be in contact with you to set up arrangements. Do you have an idea of what your calendar over the next few weeks looks like?”
“As of now, anything listed can be handled by Janel. Please, pass along my information. I hope to hear from his office soon. Thank you, Mr. Brighton.”
“Please, call me Peter, and it was my pleasure.” The line clicks in my ear. I am standing in complete and utter shock. I cannot believe I am considering a gallery in New York. Now, all I have to do is call Janel and let her know that I have finally made a decision.
Chapter 21
When I was little, I had a white cylinder box with a red lid on it, which had different shapes cut out of it. Inside the box were blocks shaped to coincide with the lid. The square block would fit inside the square shaped hole, the rectangular block would fit inside the rectangular shaped hole, and so forth. Each shape had a designated spot. When matched up correctly, all the pieces would fit inside the box.
Two weeks ago, I felt like the box, except my lid was missing and all the pieces were falling out. As I watch the tarmac come into view from my window seat, I realize that I have found my lid. Now, it is just a matter of collecting my missing pieces and making sure they fit. None of which will be easy.
Once we arrive at our gate, the attendants go over the exiting announcements. As soon as we are given permission to take off our seatbelts, the real chaos begins. I have to wait for the other two people in my row to grab their belongings in front of them, as well as their overhead luggage and exit the plane, before I can even move. The plane suddenly feels crowded. I wait until almost everyone else is off before I grab my small carry-on bag and take my first step in New York.
Thankfully, Rebecca is waiting for me at the terminal. The JFK airport is definitely bigger than I could possibly have imagined. The variety of cultures is lost among the rush of people completely lost i
n their own world, racing to get wherever it is they need to be. Rebecca patiently waits, while I slowly look around, taking in the new atmosphere. When I finally face her, she links her arm with mine and leads us to baggage claim.
“Mark has the driver circling this place with his car. He didn’t want to try and park. He was afraid by the time the driver finally found a spot, you would have landed and been on your way out. I think he’s just trying to avoid paying to park, but then again, this way the driver can just pull up and we will be on our way.”
I silently watch her, as she goes on about her new life on the Upper West Side and the brownstone apartment they are renting. She wanted something more private, but they were trying to stay within driving distance of the law firm Mark works for. When Rebecca first introduced us, I wasn’t aware how much older he was. Seven years isn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but for some reason twenty-eight feels so much older than twenty-one. Although, I have seen him act very immature for his age. Maybe age really is just a number.
Rebecca nudges me, as we walk up to the luggage belt. My eyes follow the different shaped and colorful luggage around, until they fall upon my lavender luggage, with a tiny blue flower print. Grabbing my luggage, I turn to face Rebecca, who is now staring at me with one eyebrow arched in what seems like a completely unnatural height.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just wasn’t aware your grandmother was coming with us. Does she have any other luggage we may need to pick up?”
“Very funny. It was cheap and it works.”
“So is my grandmother’s perfume, but you won’t find me wearing it.”
“You’re not? I could have sworn I smelled old lady when you hugged me earlier. I must have been mistaken. My apologies.”
“Accepted. Are we ready?”
“I have everything I need.”
She links our arms again and leads me out of the airport to wait for Mark, where suddenly half of the population of New York is waiting to be picked up. “Becca, how is he going to see us in this mess?”
“I don’t know. I guess we hope for the best.” She shrugs her shoulders and stands on the tip of her toes, trying to look over a rather large sized man’s shoulders. When he notices what she is doing, he steps to the side, so she can see around him.
We only wait a few minutes, before Rebecca starts frantically waving her arms at a black sedan approaching us. The driver pulls up. Mark steps out of the passenger side and we hop into the back seat, as he throws my luggage in the trunk. Someone behind us is blaring their horn for us to move. Mark slides into his seat and the driver takes off before Mark even has a chance to put on his seatbelt.
“I don’t think they liked me very much.” Mark looks over his shoulder and clicks his seatbelt into place.
“Screw them. They are probably just late for bingo.”
“Becca, I swear. First, the old lady perfume and now bingo. Mark, what have you done to her?” I laugh as Rebecca punches my arm.
“I’m not going to reply to any of that with a comment. I full-heartedly believe we ignore it and move on.”
“Typical lawyer response. Admit it. Becca is showing her age.”
“Carsten, I…just…what the hell? You are a year older than me for fucks sake.” Rebecca’s face is completely red. She is so flustered that she stumbles over her words, while puffing out her cheeks, thinking of what to say next. A laugh escapes me and it feels good. Her eyes go wide at my reaction, causing another laugh to fall from my lips. Crossing her arms over her chest, she turns up her nose and looks out the car window.
Coughing, I try to cover up the last few laughs that escape me, as I try to compose myself. “Becca, don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad and it is Rebecca.”
“Are you still trying to get that to stick? It won’t work. You will always be Becca to me. Adjust.” I stick out my tongue for good measure.
“Are you seriously sticking your tongue out at me? Are you going to be this immature the whole time you are here?”
“Probably.”
Rebecca rolls her eyes and mutters something about me acting my age. I am twenty-three. I will act immature if I want.
“Carsten, I know I don’t know you as well as Rebecca does, but I like you.” Mark’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. I am quick to look away, but before I do, I witness an incredible grin. No wonder she is so infatuated with him. Not only is he a lawyer, he is good looking as well.
“Thank you, Mark. I appreciate that.”
Rebecca lets out a sigh and crosses her legs to match her crossed arms. She is definitely crossed. I giggle at my own joke, before looking out the window to watch the New York scenery pass me by. The driver turns down a narrow street and pulls up in front of a row of brick homes. I am not sure if they are houses or apartments. Every building is connected to the next. The only differences are the changes in the color of the brick and the different styled railings, clearly marking one from the other.
*****
I follow Rebecca up the sidewalk, leading to narrow steps with a wrought iron railing. I know that I am in New York, but there is something about these houses that remind me of Peter Pan. Maybe it is the way the houses are tucked in so neatly to each other, or maybe it is the old lamp posts we passed, as we turned down the different streets. Whatever it is, feels like magic. I like it.
Rebecca gives me a quick tour of her two-floor apartment. The dark wood floors match the elegant trim around the doors and ceilings. The arched doorways opening from one room to another are perfectly curved. My fingers run along the wall, as she leads me downstairs to a lower level. The heavy wooden door squeaks as she opens it.
“The guest bedroom is yours for as long as you stay. I thought you might like your privacy. It even has its own bathroom.”
“Really?” I step into the small bedroom and look around. Two brown doors are located on one wall. One is open, revealing a small sink, toilet, and a standing shower. I assume the other is the closet. A full-sized bed with a light blue duvet is against the opposite wall under a small window. I close my eyes and I immediately picture myself in Holden’s bedroom at his parent’s house. “Thanks.” Giving Rebecca a soft smile, I plop down on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. She stands at the doorway for just a second, before heading back up the stairs.
Every time I feel like I step forward, I am pulled right back to him. My heart sinks at the emptiness of the room. This is only temporary. I won’t be able to stay here long. Tomorrow I have my first meeting with Mr. Dorsey. I am so nervous. I wish Holden were here, so I could talk to him about everything. I close my eyes and picture his face lying right beside mine. His brown hair is a mess and he gives me his mischievous smile. The smell of cologne wafts around me and my heart breaks, knowing it is not really him.
“I just wish you were here. I need you to tell me what to do.” I feel the bed dip. I know that it is just my imagination, but I don’t care. Taking a deep breath, I whisper the words I so desperately wish he could hear. “I miss you.” I swear I feel something brush my hair. My heart crashes. My soul aches. I am screaming on the inside, wishing he could hear me. “I love you.” The softly spoken words fall from my lips and just like that, the smell of his cologne fades. My body becomes overly aware to the emptiness of the room. I would give anything to hear him say those words again.
Sitting up, I rub my hands over my face. There is a soft knock at the door. I look up to see Mark standing in the doorway, with my suitcases in tow. “I thought you might want these.”
“Thanks. Can you just set them over there?” I point to a small closet in the corner of the room.
“Sure thing.” I’m not sure how long Mark was standing there, but it was long enough to witness my miniature melt down. Giving me a soft smile, he stops in the doorway. He opens his mouth a few times, but nothing comes out. He nods his head and pats the doorframe, before walking up the stairs.
I wait a few minutes, before heading upstairs to join t
hem for dinner. Rebecca already has the table set and is setting a big, orange bowl of mashed potatoes on the table, as I walk into the dining room. I sit in a chair next to Mark, at the small round table. He gives me a soft smile, but says nothing. I am incredibly grateful for his silence.
Dinner is delicious, but the company is better. I love hearing Rebecca’s version of how horrible the move was. Mark’s version wasn’t as dramatic. He rolls his eyes a few times, at her dramatic flair and I smile at the connection they have with each other. I am so happy that she found someone who loves her, despite her ability to exaggerate even the smallest of details.
Rebecca offers me a cup of coffee, but I politely decline. The autumn sun has faded and the moon is proudly shining in the night sky. I wish everyone goodnight and I head back downstairs. I need my rest for tomorrow. I unzip my luggage and pull out one of Holden’s t-shirts. Shedding my clothes, I slip his t-shirt over my head. I flick the light switch and crawl underneath the covers. My eyes close. It’s not long before my dreams are filled with a brown eyed-boy and tulips. I love my dreams.
Chapter 22
Traffic sucks. It is awful. No one should ever have to experience this kind of hell. The cab driver sharply maneuvers the car through it with only a few curse words uttered. I, however, have a much more colorful vocabulary. In fact, I stunned him into silence with a few choice words more than once during our drive to lower Manhattan. I love the feel of it all. Quaint boutiques, restaurants, and museums are sprinkled around us like confetti. This is where artists thrive. I feel the magic and desire to create, course through the air, imbedding itself in my skin. I belong here.
The cab pulls up outside a light-colored stone building on Franklin Street. “This is it.”
