Life Class

by Ann Charney

  “It seemed to do the trick, at least for a little while,” he tells Nerina back at the shop. “When I left, my mother was sitting up and she and Helena were busy correcting one another about where and when each photograph was taken.”

  Helena offers a different take on the visit when she talks to Nerina. “I avoid the pitfalls of nostalgia, as a rule — all that longing for an idealized past that never really existed. But Miriam has been so low lately I’m prepared to go along with anything that stirs her interest, however briefly. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I almost preferred her anger to the stupor she’s fallen into now.”

  Nerina can only follow the story of the cousins in small instalments. Running between her two jobs, running between Christophe and Helena, she barely has time to catch her breath. Next to Meredith, however, she feels she has no right to complain. At least she’s able to get some fresh air walking Edward or rushing from one destination to the next. Whereas Meredith, as far as she can tell, has given up on sleeping, eating and all other activities that might take her away from her work. She looks frail, exhausted, the living embodiment of the suffering figures in her paintings.

  “At the rate she’s going, I’m not sure she’ll make it to her own opening,” she tells Leo.

  “Don’t worry. She’ll make it on nervous energy alone, if nothing else. Right now, Meredith is operating in a heightened state of existence — like those people you read about, capable of feats of superhuman strength, like lifting a thirty-five hundred pound car to rescue a child trapped beneath it. Trust me, if she does collapse, it will be well after the opening.”

  “I guess you’re right. I’ve just never met anyone with her kind of drive. It’s sort of inspiring.”

  “Now you can understand why I find working with artists invigorating, even though they’re often a real pain in the ass.”

  Listening to Leo, Nerina keeps an eye on the door. She is waiting for Walter, who’s in town for the morning on some sort of mysterious business. “If it works out, I’ll tell you all about it,” he’d said when he called yesterday to let her know he was coming. She’d asked him to drop by Leo’s when he was done, unable to find any other way to see him on such short notice. The idea of her two benefactors meeting pleases her, although she is nervous about how they will get on.

  When Walter appears shortly before noon, she’s surprised to see him in a suit and tie. It reminds her of his elegant appearance in Venice — so at odds at the time with his dire circumstances. “He’s caught the Italian vice of la bella figura,” was how Helena described it. “Putting your best foot forward on the way to disaster.”

  Walter looks much happier and more relaxed now than he did back then. “I guess the meeting went well?” Nerina asks, unable to contain her curiosity about what lies behind the obvious effort he’s made to look his best.

  “Looks promising,” he says before turning his attention to Leo, who’s come out of the back room to greet him. Walter requests a tour of the place, leaving Nerina wondering if he’s trying to evade her questions. Or maybe, as a tool guy, he really wants to see Leo’s workshop.

  “You didn’t tell me that Walter is interested in art,” Leo says, when he and Walter rejoin Nerina.

  “Strictly as an amateur,” Walter replies. “Living in a city like Venice, all that beauty rubs off on you.”

  “Leo seems very decent,” he says afterwards, as Nerina walks him to his car. “I can see now why you like working for him.”

  “He is. If you give me enough notice next time you plan to be in town, I’ll arrange for us to have lunch together.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. It was a lastminute thing.”

  It’s not like Walter to be so tightlipped, but she restrains herself from asking any more questions. Walter, seems aware of her frustration. “All shall be revealed in due course,” he says, giving her a warm hug. “I promise. In the meantime, stay in touch.”

  When she gets back to the office, she finds an invitation to Meredith’s opening on her desk. She already has hers, and now, thanks to Leo, there’s one for Christophe as well. He has told her several times how much he wants to attend the event. Everyone of importance in the New York art world will be there.

  But when she stops by his place later in the day to drop off the invitation, he barely glances at it before setting it aside.

  “Hey, I went to a lot of trouble to get that invite for you,” she says.

  “I know, and I appreciate it, but something unexpected has come up. It doesn’t look like I’ll be able to make it after all.”

  Nerina stares at him dumbfounded. Has life really sped up to the point where nothing makes sense anymore? “What do you mean? Why can’t you make it?”

  “Take it easy, Nerina,” he says, taking her hand and lowering her gently into his ancient wicker armchair. Sitting on the floor across from her, he looks earnest and excited at the same time. “I was just about to explain. A couple of hours ago, I had a call from the owner of one of the best galleries in Montreal, offering me an exhibition. Sam, the guy I told you about, brought him around a while back to look at my work. He just called to say a space has suddenly opened up in his exhibition schedule and he wants me to take it. I was hoping you’d come by tonight so we could celebrate.”

  Nerina doesn’t feel the least bit like celebrating. Surprises fill her with trepidation — experience has taught her to value the routine, the predictable — and she doesn’t trust herself to respond to Christophe’s good news.

  Christophe has enough enthusiasm for both of them. He’s thought of little else since the phone call, and is eager to tell her how he sees events unfolding. There’s even a place for her in his plans.

  “The work is leaving tomorrow by truck. I’ll fly out tomorrow night or the next morning. As soon as the installation of the show is underway — two weeks at the most — I’ll be back to get you. I want you with me at the opening. I’m thinking of driving back to Montreal. We can stretch the trip out over a couple of days and have a bit of a holiday. If you like, we can stop in Smith Falls and see Walter. I’m curious to meet him.”

  She doesn’t bother to tell him she’s just seen Walter. Listening to Christophe rattle on, she thinks this is the trouble with surprises, even wellintentioned ones: they take too much for granted, assuming you’ll happily go along with what someone else has planned for you, just because it seemed like a good idea at the time.

  “Stop,” Nerina says, feeling overwhelmed. “This is much too much to take in, especially at this hour. I’m still having trouble adjusting to the idea that you’re leaving tomorrow, and you’ve already moved on to Smith Falls and visiting Walter.”

  “You’re right, I got a little carried away just now,” Christophe says, looking contrite. “Take all the time you need. Just remember, this will be our first trip together.”

  She doesn’t want to leave him with the impression of her bad humour on their last night together. Not trusting words, she moves to the floor and tries to connect to him in the way that’s never failed them, hoping some of his enthusiasm will rub off on her.

  Christophe is not altogether fooled. “You ok?” he asks, looking at her quizzically. “I know you’re happy for me, but you’ve been very quiet tonight.”

  “It’s to ward off the evil eye,” she tells him, grasping at straws. “In my family, it was considered bad luck to talk about something good happening before it actually happened.”

  “We say, don’t count your chickens before they hatch. Same thing, I guess. Come on, I’ll take you home. You look exhausted.”

  When they say goodbye, she tries to put into her embrace all the things she’s left unsaid. That she is happy for him, that she wishes him well, that she misses him already.

  Tired though she is, she has trouble falling asleep and is awake when the phone rings. It’s Marco.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you all evening. Don’t you check your messages?”

  “I’ve been busy. What’s up?
”

  “I’ll tell you when I see you. It’s important.”

  “I have to walk Edward at noon tomorrow. Meet me outside my building, we’ll talk on the way.”

  She finds him waiting for her as soon as she steps out of her building the next day. He greets her with his usual confident grin, but falls silent once they start to walk. Marco is rarely at a loss for words, so whatever is on his mind now can’t be good.

  They’re almost halfway to Meredith’s place when he finally turns towards her to speak. “I’m in trouble Nerina, real trouble.”

  Marco is often given to overstatement, but something tells her this is different. “What kind of trouble?” she asks, not sure she really wants to hear the answer.

  “I was caught leaving Bloomingdale’s with something I hadn’t paid for. They called the police and I’ve been charged with theft. The trial is in a couple of months.”

  Early in their friendship, when they were still in Rijeka, Marco had given her a Hermès silk scarf for her birthday, which he confessed he’d stolen. Many of her fellow students indulged in petty crimes in those days — a carryover from the lawlessness they had experienced as children — and Marco’s habitual shoplifting was not unusual. Most grew out of it eventually, but after the incident with the brooch she should have known Marco was still at it.

  “For God’s sake, Marco, this isn’t Rijeka. Didn’t you realize you’d get caught?”

  “It gets worse,” he says, suddenly eager to make a full confession. “This isn’t my first offence. I’ve been warned that the criminal charges against me can be used as grounds for revoking my visa and kicking me out of the country.”

  “Are you serious? That’s terrible.” Despite her anger at his stupidity, she feels a flicker of sympathy for him.

  “I’ve got a lawyer. He’s a friend of Sarah’s and he’s supposed to be one of the best.”

  “You mean she’s helping you? She must be a very forgiving woman.”

  “Actually, she’s furious. But she has her reasons.”

  “Like what? I can’t imagine why she would want to help you when you’ve been so incredibly stupid.”

  “She’s pregnant,” he says, looking sheepish. The admission seems to embarrass him more than the crimes he has just confessed.

  “The poor woman. You’ve certainly managed to screw up her life as well as yours.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” Marco protests. “Getting pregnant was all her idea. She never even told me she’d gone off the pill. She says she knew I wouldn’t agree, so she went ahead and tricked me.”

  “You’re a total asshole,” Nerina says, quickening her pace.

  “Wait,” Marco says, grabbing her arm to slow her down.

  “Give me a break. I’m not stupid enough to say that to her, especially now. In fact, my lawyer thinks that Sarah’s pregnancy may actually help my case.”

  “You’re still a total asshole. But I hope for Sarah’s sake, and the baby’s, they let you stay.”

  “Don’t be so hard on me, Nerina. I really need your help now.”

  “Why? What can I do?” she asks, ready to crush whatever scheme Marco has come up with this time.

  “You can testify as a character witness on my behalf. No one else here has known me as long as you have.”

  “You mean you want me to perjure myself. And what about Sarah? How will you explain my sudden appearance to her?”

  “Leave that to me. I’ll take care of Sarah.”

  “I don’t know. There’s a good chance I may be in Canada when your trial comes up.” As she says this, Nerina realizes that Marco has managed to do one good thing for her. The next time she hears from Christophe, she will tell him how much she’s looking forward to going away with him.

  “I’ll wait for you,” Marco says, as they reach the front of Meredith’s building. “We’ll walk the dog together.”

  “Why? You want a character reference from him as well? I’ll check his schedule and get back to you.”

  “Very funny. Don’t forget, Nerina, we go back a long way.” His eyes, fixed on her face, are willing her to remember.

  He doesn’t need to remind her. She’s furious with him, but she knows that in the end she will do what she can to help him.

  XXI

  Meredith’s opening

  NERINA has asked Helena to accompany her to Meredith’s opening. Despite her reservations about Meredith’s work, Helena readily agrees. A festive occasion such as this one is bound to be a welcome change from the tedium of visiting her ailing cousin. Miriam is home now and more talkative, but their arguments have simply shifted ground. The subject of their disagreement now is Miriam’s refusal to have the bypass surgery.

  “She says she’s leaving it all in God’s hands,” Helena tells Nerina as their taxi heads up Madison Avenue towards the gallery. “When I tell her God helps those who help themselves, she just gives me one of her infuriating saintly smiles — her way of saying I couldn’t possibly understand. The strange part is that she has some sort of hold over me. Definite proof I made the right decision to put an ocean between us. Luckily, Leo is nothing like his mother. I suppose working with artists has mitigated her influence on him.”

  It surprises Nerina to learn that the two women have been spending so much time together. It’s not like Helena to persist in a situation she finds so frustrating, but she thinks she understands. It’s probably like the weakness that binds her to Marco — an attachment she’s reluctant to sever, despite her ambivalent feelings for him.

  “Perhaps you should see less of her,” Nerina suggests. “From what you say, it doesn’t sound as if she enjoys these arguments any more than you do.”

  “On the contrary. Whenever I make a move to leave, she asks, ‘Are you going already?’ in that guiltinducing way she has. But let’s not talk about Miriam any longer.” The taxi pulls up in front of the building housing the gallery. “I’m determined to put her out of my mind tonight.”

  When they enter, the rooms inside the gallery are crowded and buzzing with excitement. It’s been several years since Meredith’s last exhibition, and there is a sense of festive anticipation in the air, as if something momentous and pleasurable is about to happen. The nature of the canvases on the walls, filled with suffering and torment, seems, in some perverse way, to heighten the celebratory mood in the room. Glancing at the paintings as they make their way slowly through the crowd, Nerina finds that they look different to her, almost as if she were seeing them for the first time.

  “Art never looks as good as it does at an opening,” Helena explains when Nerina mentions her reaction. “It’s the Duchamp principle: place a urinal in a gallery and it becomes an important work of art.”

  Nerina is tempted to say that she’s just read a book on Duchamp, suggested to her by Leo. At Nerina’s request, Leo has compiled a list of books for her to read, as a basic introduction to modern art. Helena, however, has been skittish whenever Nerina’s tried to engage her in conversation on the subject, as if talking about books on art fell outside the bounds of their friendship. This is not the place to change her mind.

  Helena has already moved on to the next room. When Nerina catches up with her, she finds her speaking to Bill and Alice Ohstrom. Nerina knew they would be here tonight, but she’s still taken aback to find herself in the presence of her former employers. She can’t help thinking of the letters she sent them from Smith Falls.

  If Alice remembers, there is no sign of it in her greeting. “There you are,” she says. “I was hoping to run into you, but you can never tell in this crush.”

  “Nice to see you again, Nerina,” Bill says, giving her a hug. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Yes, why have you been avoiding us?” Alice asks.

  Nerina doesn’t know what to say, but it doesn’t matter. Taking hold of her arm, Alice pulls her away from Bill and Helena. “Come along, it’s time you and I had a little chat.

  “Tell me, what’s it like working for the great
woman?” she asks, as soon as they’re alone.

  Nerina breathes a sigh of relief. For a moment there, she was worried what other probing questions Alice might have for her. Alice, is not interested in her after all, only in gossip about Meredith. While Alice grabs a fresh glass of wine off the tray of a passing waiter, Nerina tries to come up with some harmless anecdote to satisfy Alice’s curiosity. But the sight of Meredith just ahead of them, dramatically resuscitated and surrounded by a circle of admirers, renders her speechless.

  This impression of vitality is enhanced by the dress Meredith is wearing: silvercoloured, with horizontal pleats that march up the sleeves and the lower half of the skirt like a staircase that vibrates each time she moves, it seems to have a life of its own. Now the quivering dress is heading straight in her direction.

  “Let’s have it,” Alice says, taking a big gulp of wine. “You know what they say, no man is hero to his valet.”

  Meredith is now just behind Alice, but Nerina can’t think of any way to warn her except by keeping silent.

  “Come on Nerina, stop holding out on me,” she says, her voice rising with impatience.

  But when Meredith appears in front of her, her recovery is seamless and swift. Turning on a dime, Alice’s face and voice reflect only delight.

  “I had no idea you two knew each other,” Meredith says, making it sound like an indictment.

  Nerina suddenly remembers Leo’s earlier warning: be careful not to give Meredith reason to think you’re monopolizing her important guests by chatting too long with any one of them. The likelihood of finding herself in such circumstances seemed remote at the time, but it occurs to her now that major collectors like Alice and Bill Ohstrom are in that category.

  “I used to work for the Ohstroms in Venice, as their maid,” Nerina blurts out, hoping the explanation will defuse Meredith’s suspicion. She doesn’t really want to stick around to find out. In her haste to get away from the two women she stumbles over someone’s feet, almost losing her balance, only to have a strong arm steady her.