"So, you had a good run in the forest as a wolf and got that out of your system?" Fred asked, tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the dining room table.
I nodded, staring at her nails, almost enthralled by them. How did she even have perfect nails as a painter? I always had paint everywhere. I barely had any clothes without paint splotches on it.
"Right, so are you ready to go back to work now?"
"Uh, yeah. I guess."
"Good, because even though our work is technically ruined, it's not really, is it. It's more like it's been altered. And we can work with that. So, we should do a group show. You and me. Showcase all of it. We need a good title."
"Collateral damage," I muttered.
"Would be great for my section but not yours. Might as well go big and just title it Bigot. And our artist statement should just be plain and simple. Someone poured black paint over our work because of bigotry. Because that's what happened. Can you imagine a bigger 'fuck you' to the assholes who did it? They're not gonna get to fuck with us and not get something back."
I finally looked up and met her gaze. She looked so triumphant. So sure. Like it didn't even matter if her hard work had been ruined. She didn't look defeated at all.
"What about all your work?"
"I can make new paintings. All the time. And I wanted a better concept, didn't I? We should still write artist statements for the previous work, but then splash black paint on that too, so it can't be properly read. Might as well take it all the way. And that's our end-of-the-year exhibition."
I stared at her for a moment, while she kept tapping her nails on my dining table. She had thought about it so in depth.
"It's a good concept," I said then. "It's a really good concept. I don't see why we shouldn't do it."
"Awesome. I knew you'd probably like it. Maybe. I mean, I was hoping you would. It doesn't really work when it's only me." She shrugged and then sent me a wry smile. "Also." She rose, walked around the table and slapped me on the back of my head, making me yelp. "Don't ever just disappear on Abel like that again, you hear me? He was about to tear the whole county apart, looking for you. Never disappear."
"Okay, okay, I swear," I said, having wrapped my arms around my head, not wanting to get hit again.
"I mean it, Gael, next time I'll do more than hit some sense into your fat head, you get me?"
She was so tiny, but seriously scary at the same time. I'd rather go toe-to-toe with Cal and all her massive brothers.
"I promise. It was a lapse in judgement. Something I've always done, and I don't wanna do that again and I didn't wanna do it, but I did, because things got too fucking hard and everything's always so fucking hard and it isn't when I'm not even conscious and the wolf is just running around the forest, doing whatever he wants." I stopped my rambling by slapping my hand over my mouth.
Fred's expression softened. And then she wrapped her arms around me, hugging me so fiercely.
"I know it's hard. I know. But you're not alone."
I nodded, hugging her back.
"I'm sorry for just disappearing."
"I know." She pulled back and patted my head. "But this is your first and only chance. Alright?"
"Won't need another," I said with a fierce determination.
I wasn't going to run away again.
I wasn't.
"Alright, I think that was it," Cal said and stepped back, her drilling machine in her hand, wiping her forehead with the other.
She had been drilling in holes and helping us hang our work. We were exhibiting in the school's own built-in gallery. We'd been raising fake walls, installing all the work, slapping black paint on our artist statements, and not to be conceited... It looked great. I was so proud of our work and the fact that Fred wanted to do a group exhibition for our end-of-the-semester with me? She was so amazing, and my work had been so bad since I had broken my arm. Sure, my concept had been alright, but the actual body of work was honestly so bad. Slapping black paint on it didn't hurt it at all.
"It's looking good," Abel said. "I think." He grimaced a little and titled his head to the side. "You sure you wanna exhibit this? Isn't art supposed to be like... Nice?"
"Not always," I said and put my arm around his waist. "Conceptual art is more about the concept than the actual piece. Say, if I wanted to do a piece about my broken arm, it'd be the cast I'd exhibit. Without the concept, I'm exhibiting a dirty cast. But with the story that you had to break it, that wolfsbane coursed through my body and the only way to save me was for you to break it... It becomes a piece about love and pain, and how often those are intertwined."
"And that sounds a little pretentious, but art is pretentious, I guess," Fred chimed in. "He's right though. Someone in our class is showcasing a piece of plastic pipe in an aquarium to shine light on plastic pollution. While it's a little on the nose, it's accessible too. You have to find a way to balance the concept with what's shown. Conceptual art is about making commentary more than making art that people would like to hang in their living rooms."
"Okay, that sounds pretty punk." Abel smiled a little.
"A lot of punk art is also conceptual. Hell, some of the music too. It's not about sounding good and nice to listen to, but to get the emotions and message across. Often those emotions are rage at the system, you know?" Fred took the drill from Cal and put it in its case.
"You don't gotta understand it, Abel. Just support them," Cal said and grabbed the case off the floor.
"Oh, full support. Even if I don't entirely get it." My boyfriend chuckled a little nervously.
"I'll make something for you to hang in your living room," I said to bail him out a little.
"I already have something, you know. But I'll cover a whole wall with your paintings, if you'd let me." He winked at me and slid his aviators down in front of his eyes, as we exited the gallery.
"How long was your mum staying?" Cal asked.
"Uh, yeah, she has taken over my loft so I'm guessing a while. Been living with Gael for like a week now."
"To no protests from here." I laughed up at him and he shook his head back.
"Gary's settling in as well, though she's still very confused about there being two stories. She refuses to go upstairs, so Dave carries her around. I think he thinks, Gary's his baby."
We stopped in the parking lot by Cal's truck. She put the drill in the back and Fred opened the door to the passenger side, hopping up into the seat, her legs dangling out of the car.
"Can we get a cat, Cal?" she asked with her most cute voice.'
"I'm a bigass bird, Fred, we're not getting a cat." Cal rolled her eyes and got Fred to get her legs inside the truck, closing the door on her.
Fred rolled the window down. "But it's part of my culture!"
"You're not that kind of witch, mate, don't even try." Cal turned to us. "See ya at the opening, right?"
"Free wine and art? I mean, yeah always," Abel said then. "Gael taught me to say that about art openings."
"Gael is wise," Cal laughed and gave us a two-finger solute before going around the truck and jumping in.