Authors: Katrina Penaflor
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ren
I spent the weekend with Emmy at a local
bed and breakfast. School just ended for Christmas break, and I thought the two
of us needed to do something fun before we went to my dad’s house to spend the
remainder of the time off. The trip was amazing. The place we stayed at even
had an indoor pool—a detail Emmy couldn’t stop thanking me for, but I never
told her the place’s website didn’t advertise that. It was a surprise to me as
well. I also gave her a camera, a nice little Polaroid. She loved it and even
let me snap a few pictures of her with it. I finally got my shot of all her
gorgeous freckles.
But now that
we’re back, and I’m prepping for my interview with Ellie’s friend Ray, the
gallery owner, my high has completely dropped.
“Are you
taking all of this?”
Emmy asks me with surprise to her voice.
We’
re at my dad
’s house and I’ve been going through pictures all day. I was told
by Ray’s assistant that I could bring no more than ten photos. I’ve chosen
“Charlie,”
but I need three more pictures to go along with it.
The entire
floor of the studio is covered in pictures. Some framed, some matted, and some
are just sprawled all over. The room looks like chaos and I’m trying to make
some order of it so I can decide on what I’m going to bring. But I’m finding it
nearly impossible.
“No, I’m just
trying to figure out what to pick for my last three pictures.”
I pull on my hair in frustration. I think I’ve decided on one more
picture. “I’m going with this one.”
It’s a shot of a man on
the beach on a foggy day. The fog is so thick that it looks as if the man is
floating amongst a set of clouds. His yellow raincoat is the only bold color on
the grey toned picture.
Emmy examines
my pick. “I love this one. Okay, now choose two more.”
How the hell
am I supposed to pick two more pictures? It’s taken me an entire day to pick
picture number eight, and I’m not even sure if that’s the best one to bring.
“
You pick,
”
I say.
“Uh, no. I
have no idea what will impress this woman. This is your decision.”
The thought
of going over my work again and determining the final two pictures makes me
want to rip out all my hair.
“You. Pick. I
trust you…I think I need a drink.”
I leave the studio and
walk to the kitchen. From the liquor cabinet I grab mine and my dad’s favorite
whiskey. I pour two fingers worth into a tumbler. I quickly down the drink and
pour myself another.
Emmy emerges from
the studio and joins me. She eyes the empty glass and bottle of whiskey in
front of me and says nothing. She walks around me to reach into the cabinet.
She grabs another glass and holds it in front of me on the counter. I pour some
whiskey into it and she takes a seat.
I watch Emmy
wince as she drinks from her glass. It takes her three sips before the contents
are gone.
“Feeling
better?”
She asks.
“Did you pick
two more pictures?”
She nods and
reaches her glass out to me again. “Yes. I think the ones I picked are great,
but I’m not sure what you’ll think. Let’s just stick with them. You’re going to
get too worked up if you have to think about it any longer.”
“Okay, then I
think I’m feeling better. This whole thing has been stressing me out, I’m just
glad I have my ten pictures figured out.”
“You’ll be
ready for tomorrow. Just go in there, show your passion for your work, and I
know the woman will love it. And if this doesn’t work out, there are plenty of
other galleries. This is just the start for you.”
She’s right.
This is only the beginning.
* *
“Quit looking over your photos. They’re
perfect, and you wouldn’t want to switch things out ten minutes before you
leave.”
Mason is
sitting in the living room next to me. I can’t stop looking over my choices to bring
to the gallery.
“I know it’s
too late to change, but I can’t stop looking over them. Can you hand me the
portfolio that’s on the kitchen counter? There’s one more thing I need to look
at before I go.”
I know I won’t change things this last minutes,
but I can’t help but constantly look at all my options up until I leave.
“Yeah, but
everything looks great. All your choices are…”
Mason’s voice
trails off.
“What? All my
choices are what?”
Mason’s
holding one of my portfolios in one hand and a small Polaroid in the other. His
face looked shocked, his cheeks are also pink, like he’s embarrassed.
“What are you
looking at?”
“I uh…I swear
this just fell out of your portfolio. I know I definitely wasn’t supposed to
see this.”
What is he
talking about? Mason puts the portfolio on the couch next to me and hands me
the picture he was holding.
Oh my god.
It’s Emmy.
Emmy, naked.
She’s lying
on her back on her bed. The sheets wrap between her legs and her breasts are
exposed. I can’t see her eyes in the picture—it cuts off at her nose—but I know
for a fact that it’s her. Even though I can’t see her entire naked body, the
picture is still so erotic. After I got her a camera she promised me a surprise
photo. This is definitely not what I expected.
And Mason just
saw it.
I look back
to him. He’s scratching the back of his neck, still looking embarrassed.
“I swear to
god it just fell out of the folder. I picked it up and noticed it was Emilie. I
should have looked away, but fuck how could I?”
I’m not going
to get angry with him, it was an accident.
I make sure
to flip the photo over so Mason can’t continue to look at it.
“Don’t tell
her you saw this. She only intended for me to see it.”
“I won’t say
a word. I swear. But…shit, man.”
He raises his eyebrows.
Yeah, shit,
man.
One thing’s
for sure, this definitely took my mind off the stress of my interview.
* *
This place looks like a cattle call of all
local artists and photographers. I count fifteen other people in the crammed
back section of the gallery. The place, from what I got a look of when I walked
in, is pretty incredible. It’s simple, but the work on display is fantastic. I
saw multiple pieces by photographers that I recognized. If I can make it into
the gallery it will be a miracle.
No one was
given a number when we got in. The assistant, I think his name is Marcus,
decides at random who goes next. After one artist comes out of Ray’s office he
decides who goes in after. It’s keeping me on edge because I have no idea if
I’m going in five minutes or in an hour
.
“Just to
remind everyone here, you each get five minutes. Go in, introduce yourself to
Ray and she’ll guide you from there. She’s good about keeping time, but if she
dismisses you early, don’t take it personally.”
Five minutes.
I have only five minutes to impress Ray. I open up my bag of work and shift my
pictures around so “Charlie”
is on the top of the pile. If
I only have five minutes, that is what I want her to see first.
I sit through
two more people going in and out of Ray’s office.
Marcus walks
over to me. “Go on in, good luck.”
“Thank you.”
I tell him.
I straighten
my tie and adjust my dress shirt. I wanted to look professional for my meeting
today, so I dressed in slacks and a crisp, white button down.
I open the
door to Ray’s office and find her sitting behind a large glass desk.
She stands to
greet me.
“Ray
Gardner.”
“
Ren Warren.
”
We shake hands.
“Ray, Ren,
very similar names. So where are you from?”
“Providence—it’s
where I go to school, but I’m from Newport.”
She writes something
down on a yellow legal pad.
“Ah, one of
my favorite places. I spend a lot of time there in the summer. So can I see
what you have for me?”
“Of course.”
I open my bag up and hand her the stack of pictures. I took
“Charlie”
out of the frames, it’s easier to flip through that way.
Ray looks
over my work. I don’t know if I should speak up and say anything. I decide to
let her know Charlie is all related. “The first seven are part of a collection.
They all go together.”
She doesn’t
respond, just nods her head at me.
“Good
coloring on this one.”
I wish I knew
which one she was talking about, but all I can see is the backs of the mattes.
It’s one from “Charlie”
I know that, but which one?”
Ray stacks
the pictures in a neat pile before handing them back to me. “Thank you for
coming in today. I’ll keep in touch if I’m interested.”
That was only
three minutes.
Don’t take in personal.
I put my work
away and stand to shake Ray’s hand one more time. “Thank you, Ray. It was nice
coming in.”
She smiles
kindly at me before writing more on her pad of paper.
I leave the
room feeling defeated. She didn’t say anything other than “good coloring,”
and she didn’t use the full five minutes. Basically, she didn’t
find anything appealing about my work.
Dammit.
I leave the gallery,
knowing I shouldn’t sulk about it, but finding it nearly unavoidable. Emmy made
a good point, this is only the beginning of getting my work out. I shouldn’t
get upset about one gallery not wanting to display me. There are plenty more.
I notice a text
from Emmy when I get in my car.
Emmy: How did it go?
I reply.
Ren: Not too good. I don’t think she liked it.
Emmy: We’ll look for other galleries to try out. You’ll find a
place.
We text more
to agree to meet up at her apartment. She’
s at Noel
’s right now,
but she’ll be back home before I arrive in Providence.
The drive
back from Connecticut takes me around two hours. All I want is to lay in bed
with Emmy and relax. I want to put this bad interview past me.
She greets me
at the door when I knock.
“You look like you’ve had a long day.”
“Four hours
of driving for a three minute interview.”
Emmy wraps
her arms around me. “What did she say?”
I reply. “Not
much. Just that she liked the color in one of them. She said she would call if
she was interested.”
“Don’t let
this get you down. In a few days she might call you.”
Maybe
. “Come inside I got dinner.”
“
Pizza?
”
I ask.
“Duh.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Emilie
I’m spending the next two and a half weeks
at the Warrens’ and I packed my suitcase to sustain me for the next two and a
half months.
I may have
over packed.
Ren and I got
an early breakfast this morning so I could have plenty of time to start
packing. We leave for Newport in two days, and I knew I would need this much
time in advance to get all my things together.
Ren said we
could always come back and get stuff I forgot; we’ll be returning to Providence
so I can work my shifts at the diner, but I want to have everything right the
first time around.
I get a text.
Noel: Dinner tonight? And by dinner, I mean wine.
I respond,
telling her that I might be able to. It depends on whether I have all my
packing organized or not. We agree to meet tomorrow, before we both leave
Providence for the break.
I look at the
two suitcases and one duffle bag sitting on my bed, all stuffed to the brim,
and decide I need to take a break. I grab my purse and leave my apartment in
the direction of my favorite coffee shop.
* *
Just as I’m finishing my cappuccino with an
extra shot, my phone rings with an unfamiliar number. It’s different from the
one my father called me on before.
“
Hello?
”
“Hi.”
This time,
when I hear the familiar voice of my father, I don’t feel as alarmed. He’s far
off in Nevada calling, and after reading his letter, I’ve almost made peace
with the situation. Almost.
I don
’t want to let how he
treated me define me. I need to learn how to fully move on from my life before
Providence.
He doesn’t
speak, so I decide to. “
I got
your
letter
.
”
“Did…did you read
it?”
I debate
whether to tell him or not, but ultimately decide on saying, “I did.”
I hear him
cough on the other end of the phone. Followed by an undeterminable sound. “I’m
sorry, Emilie. I really am.”
His voice shakes at the last
three words. I think he’s crying. “Do you think maybe you would want to see me?
I want to talk to you in person.”
I may have
had the strength to read his letter, and begin my own level of forgiveness, but
there is
no
way I will meet him in person. Besides, knowing he would be
making the trip across the country would be enough to break me down again.
“
No. I don
’t even feel
comfortable talking to you on the phone. I don’t want you to come here.”
I’m talking quietly. I don’t want to draw the attention of anyone
around me.
“But I al—”
I hang up the
phone. I was willing to read what he wrote, I even felt mildly sorry for him.
But the pain my father put me through, for all those years, is still a part of
me.
I don
’t know if I’ll ever be
able to see him in person. But I do know that now is not the time.
My phone
rings again. It’s the same number. I silence the call and finish my coffee.
Goodbye, dad
.
* *
“How are you ever tired? I swear you drink
more coffee than anyone I know.”
Ren’s tying
his shoes next to me on the couch. I’m lying down, almost ready to fall asleep.
He’s getting dressed for the gym. He’s meeting Adam, who I remember from the
first night I met Ren, and Mason there.
I didn’t tell
him about my phone call with my dad earlier. I never told him about reading the
letter either. I want to handle this part on my own. Ren won’t fully understand
my need for closure, but after hanging up the phone today, I no longer feel
anything towards my dad. Which I think is much better than what I felt before.
I respond to
Ren’
s question.
“I love sleep. Now leave me be. Go workout with Mason, I’m
probably going to be out when you’re done. Then I’ll do some more packing
before I go to bed for real.”
Ren finishes
tying his shoes and stands up.
“I’ll head
back to my place afterward then. What time are you seeing Noel tomorrow?”
“We agreed on
two. I work at six, and I’ll be free after that.”
“Would you
want to go to Newport tomorrow night? I don’t really see a reason to wait until
the day after. That way we can sleep once we get there and do all our unpacking
in the morning.”
I stretch out
my body on the couch while I yawn. “That sounds good to me. I’ll get everything
finished tonight, and tomorrow after work we’ll leave.”
I close my eyes. Now I’m ready for a nap.
Ren puts a
blanket on me and I feel him kiss my forehead. “I’ll see you later, Emmy. Love
you.”
“Love you
too,”
I say, falling asleep.
* *
I hate that groggy feeling of just waking
up. I must have been napping for a few hours because it’s dark outside, and I remember
Ren leaving around four.
Knock, knock.
Did I agree
to meet him after he went to the gym? God I can’t remember anything because I
still feel half asleep.
Knock, knock,
knock
.
“Calm down,
Ren. I’
m coming.
”
I rub my eyes
to wake myself up. I take the few steps to the door. It opens before I get a
chance to turn the nob.
The moment I
see
him
I know I’m in trouble.
I try to push
the door closed, but the heavy hand of my father stops it in its tracks.