Monachopsis

Chapter XL: Provenances and Murder Victims

"So, you studied art in school, huh?"

Sarah sighed. "It's true. I was an artist--a terrible, terrible artist. That's why I'm in the auction business."

I heaved a long-suffering sigh. I had been sitting at the bar for hours, sipping wine and listening to my brother and his date titter away like a pair of love-sick doves. They'd eaten and even had dessert, but the beers just kept coming.

"And you were pre-law?" Sarah asked. 

"Yeah." Sam said.

"But you didn't go to law school. How come?" I paused in my drinking. I wondered what he'd say to her.

Sam feigned dismissal, shrugging. "Uh, it's a really long story for another time."

"You're not like any art dealer I've ever met."

Sam didn't seem to know how to respond to that. It was almost fascinating, watching my brother on a date. I had never met Jessica--the girl he'd been so in love with and had been planning on marrying before she was killed--and I didn't know much about her. I couldn't help but wonder if he had been like this with her. 

He changed the subject. "So...what did you mean when you said you hadn't been on a date in a while? Trying to make me feel like I'm not such a loser?"

"I'm sure you're many things, Sam," Sarah said. "I'm also sure 'loser' isn't one of them..." She took a moment, seemed to choose her words carefully before speaking again. "It was my mom. She died about a year ago. Totally unexpected. It really threw me. I went into this shell--a nice, warm, safe shell. But lately, I've been thinking...it's not what she would have wanted for me. So..."

Her words trailed off. I sat still, tracing the rim of my wine glass with my finger. From behind me, I heard Sam shuffle in his seat. It was a quiet, awkward moment before he started speaking again. "I know what that feels like. At least..a little bit."

"What do you mean?"

"My sister." I froze. My hand stilled on my glass. I barely moved, even to breathe. At the table, Sam spoke haltingly, like he wasn't quite sure how to continue. "She...lost her mom not too long ago. An accident--it was pretty bad. For a few days after that she kinda seemed to...withdraw. She didn't talk. She wouldn't get out of bed. One day was so bad that she didn't eat, or drink, or sleep. She just kinda sat there. And I think what was really scary about it was that the next day, she didn't even remember it."

"Oh my God," Sarah whispered. "I'm so sorry, Sam. That must've been so difficult, to see her like that."

My chest prickled with suppressed rage, and I clenched my teeth together to keep from launching out of my seat. How dare Sam talk about me like I'm some charity case to be pitied? I could take care of myself just fine. And I was furious that he would use my mother's death as an in with this woman.

And yet, under the anger, a lingering coldness tickled at me. I didn't  remember a day like that. Most of the days following the discovery of my mother were blurry, incoherent smears. Was it really possible that I had been that low? And if I had, would I really not remember it? Maybe I wouldn't.

A couple beats of silence. Sarah broke it. "So, what about you? You're a reasonably attractive guy."

Sam laughed. He parroted, "Reasonably."

"Why haven't you been out and about?" she asked. 

Silence. Again. But this was different. There wasn't the easy flow that came with thought or shock. No. This tension was thick. My brother struggled with a response; he flickered between the truth, and a lie. Would he tell this new woman about Jessica? He barely knew her. He wouldn't even tell me. Despite my anger, the thought that he might trust this stranger more than me stung just a little.