Pink Pansies ✺ A Pedro Pascal A.U.

Chapter 23: Don't Make Me Regret Saying That

I lost track of how many cigarettes I had smoked while I drove to work. As soon as I finished one, another was in between my lips. I oscillated between grateful and resentful towards Randy. He let me know, which was the right thing to do but he didn't let me know, which left too much up to my imagination. As I've been reminded time and time again recently, imagination is not always on my side. 

After I pulled off the freeway and ran nearly every yellow light, I finally made it to the Pit. The lot had more cars than usual for a Saturday and the loading dock was open. Randy and Lane were sitting on the ledge and talking. 

I lowered the volume on my music and felt the words "what the actual fuck" forming around the cigarette in my mouth. I hadn't even finished this one and I already wanted another. Now that I was here it was almost worse. I desperately wanted to know what had happened to quell the shitstorm brewing in my brain, but I didn't want to know because then I'd have to deal with the consequences. Seemed to be a running theme in my life. 

When I pulled into my usual spot I saw Lane watching me. I shook my head and that was enough of a signal to her. She jumped off the ledge and jogged over to me, her hair swaying behind her as she approached.

"Hey Emi. It's not as bad as it seems, ok." 

"I don't even know how it seems, Randy didn't tell me anything." My voice was brusk and harsh. I had just spent the past hour ruminating and creating false scenarios in my head that would leave me unemployed and ruined in the art world. My body had gone into fight or flight and I guess it has settled on fight.

Lane knew me well enough that she pulled me into a hug. The tension in my body dissipated a fraction, but I was still a bundle of nerves. We walked together toward the office. 

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to take my frustration out on you. I've just been so stressed about this exhibition and I was worried something went wrong." I tried to explain. 

"Well something did." Randy said unemotionally. 

"Jesus Christ that is not what I need to hear." I was not one to resort to violence but in that moment I wanted to punch him. I took a deep breath and pinched the space between my eyebrows, trying to calm myself. 

"I'm just in the dark right now. Can one of you please tell me what happened?" 

I saw Randy jump down from the ledge in my periphery and he began walking towards us. Lane held up her hand to him and he stopped. 

"Dreamscape got caught on one of the plasticine reliefs and now it has a giant rip in the middle. The relief is ok though." Lane was flat and smooth in her delivery. 

Dreamscape was one of Lane's paintings. It was going to be the centerfold, surrounded by other her pieces and some ceramic sculptures. It was a keystone; something that tied everything together.

And it was ripped.
In the middle. 

I struggled to find the words. I was frustrated but I needed to have perspective. This was Lane's piece, and she was relatively calm given the circumstances. She often served as an anchor for me, and I knew I'd feel guilty if I were to make this situation worse by exploding. 

I spoke slowly and chose my words carefully. "How does something like that even happen?" 

"I don't know and it doesn't matter because it happened. Ok?" Lane said, placing her hands on my shoulders and looking me squarely in the face. "I'm not that upset. We can make it work."

Another, longer deep breath. "It's your piece, what do you suggest we do?" 

"Ok, I'm thinking we have two options." as Lane spoke she let go of my shoulders and I found myself pacing. "First is that we leave it as it is. Kind of a dark turn for the exhibition as a whole, so I want your take on it Emi. But, it could be a commentary on how this non-human image can be destructive to the expansive nature of Japanese people and culture as a whole?"