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?"
"You don't seem confident about that." I said, "Does that feel true to you?"
"Not really." Lane frowned. "My second option is a bit lighter, though I'm still trying to figure out how I can do it."
Holding back my true emotions left my body rigid and tense. My jaw was unbelievably tight and I began rubbing below my ears to try and loosen it. "Second option. Go."
"We can try to repair it, kind of like Kintsugi. I know it's a different form of Japanese art, but it might be interesting to combine the two."
As soon as the words left her mouth something shifted in the air. I began to imagine opening day of the exhibition: all the pieces in their right place, the lighting just right, the Kintsugi gold on Dreamscape shining in the center on the back wall. That's the kind of thing that would draw people in. Not that Dreamscape wasn't incredible already, but that's the beauty of Kintsugi.
I realized I had stopped pacing. My attention drifted away from the scenario to Lane with her bright, determined eyes.
"Does that feel true to you?" I repeated myself, this time taking care to make sure my own expression didn't sway her one way or the other. It was essential that whatever we chose to do, it had to feel right to her.
"Yeah, I'm actually really into it. But like I said, I'm not sure how I'd do it."
"I can help, just tell me what you need." Randy said excitedly, seemingly picking up on the shift in the atmosphere.
"No." Lane was blunt and quick in shutting him down. "No, it's ok." her tone softer this time. Still, she gave me a look that said I do need help but I don't want his help.
----
The door closed behind me and I leaned against it. For a brief moment I felt like a protagonist in a movie after an exhausting day. Except this wasn't a movie. My hands were still sticky from the industrial glue and I had flecks of gold and strings of canvas all over me.
Lane and I had gone to Blicks and grabbed a handful of supplies. Upon our return to The Pit we spent a couple of hours doing everything to make it look like it wasn't a last ditch effort to save the painting. We were meticulous in our placement of extra canvas and metallic gold foil. It had to appear intentional on such a large canvas.
By the time we decided to call it quits the piece wasn't even finished but it had to sit and dry for the night. That meant we'd have to spend most of tomorrow working on it again. The thought made my hands hurt.
----
In the shower I tried to focus on relaxing. The chamomile and lavender in my body wash helped to ease the tension I still had in my muscles. I stretched under the hot water and felt relief in all the right places. I was beginning to unwind when I heard the sound of my phone vibrating several times in succession. I had placed it on the counter before heading into the shower, so I peered past the curtain to see. It was Pedro. He was Facetiming me.
I scrambled a bit to dry my hand on a nearby washcloth and grabbed my phone but then I paused and thought for a moment.
Based on our conversation earlier, he was probably expecting me to be in a different headspace than the one I was currently in. This whole Dreamscape debacle left my body void of any sexual desire. I wanted to answer but decided that being in the shower might give him the wrong idea. I opted for texting.
Emi: Hey, sorry. Can't talk right now.
Pedro: Oh, everything ok?
Emi: Yeah just in the shower
I replied without thinking and quickly realized that telling him was almost as bad as showing him. Like earlier this morning, I saw the ellipsis appear and disappear several times.
Pedro: Want to call me back when you get out?
Emi: Sure
He could have taken it in a very different direction and I was grateful he chose this one. I didn't even realizing I was smiling until I started washing my face.
----
The temptation to call him as soon as I was out and dressed was hard to fight. I knew that he brought a sense of comfort and I desperately needed that right now, but the feelings I had this morning reminded me to be cautious. I had to tend to myself first and I needed some time to process the days events. I padded over to the kitchen and prepared the kettle for some tea.
My phone buzzed in the other room and I noticed it was text from Pedro. No words, just a link. I clicked on it and was brought to Steve Lacy's Out of Me Head on youtube.
I couldn't resist any longer. I returned to our messages and hit the little video button in the corner. In the brief moments before he answered I checked my appearance and brushed a stray curl out of my face.
"Hi" Pedro's face took up nearly the entire screen. He had pulled his bottom lip into his mouth in a futile attempt to stop himself from grinning.
I sighed, not wanting to filter myself "You're too cute"
"Oh, you think so?" That faux smug look painted on his face.
"Don't make me regret saying that." I warned as I walked back to the kitchen. I leaned against the counter with my phone in my hand to keep an eye on the kettle.
"I would never." He teased, but then something in his expression shifted. Those soft brown eyes turned sentimental almost as they darted ever so slightly across the screen. "I've missed you."
"Really?" I said somewhat doubtfully, still feeling slightly jaded about the way our communication had changed. I knew my feelings were of my own making. He had told me he was busy and yet I ran around in a circle in my head, then blamed him for the trench I was in.
"Yeah. It's a little scary." His voice was subdued and he was delicate in his delivery.
I scanned his face on the screen. Perhaps this newfound softness could be attributed to lethargy, but that didn't seem likely. He had been his usual playful self, at the start of this call but now he was different. His tender side was coming out, but I wasn't sure if it was just something to say or if he really meant it. During the time I spent trying to discern his intention I remained silent. My lack of response seemed to shake him a bit. He cleared his throat and readjusted himself on his bed.
"Anyways, how was your day?" He asked, trying to change the subject.
I frowned. My head was scrambled. Since I woke up I had thought of Pedro. I wanted, no, needed to know that he wasn't avoiding me. That those moments of vulnerability we shared didn't push him away and he was just using work as an excuse. Now that he had partially admitted it on his own accord, I couldn't bring myself to express my own feelings. Why?
Then I thought about meeting Dan and how that threw me for a loop, and then the excitement of hearing from Pedro being instantly squashed by news from Randy. Everything felt so chaotic and messy. I had no idea how to center myself and be present in this conversation. I knew a cigarette wouldn't do anything at this point either.
"That bad, huh?" He interrupted my thoughts. I looked over to see his brow furrowed and his bottom lip jutted out in a slight pout.
"Lets just say I'm looking forward to going to bed." I glanced at the small square in the corner where my own image resided. I looked tired. For a moment I was embarrassed Pedro saw me like this, but it didn't seem to deter him.
"I can let you go if you need to" A kind offer dripping with disappointment.
"No, no I don't want that." I sighed, becoming annoyed with myself for how I must be coming off to him.
Pedro hesitated, probably trying to gauge the situation. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath but struggled to feel at ease. "Not really. Or maybe, not right now. I'm still processing."
He had been spacious, curious even, when it's come to my work, which I've appreciated. But the thought of talking about what happened would stir up the stress I've been trying to let go of since I walked through my front door.
Perhaps I just needed to let him in a bit, not all the way. Indicating that my brooding didn't have anything to do with him. It seemed to be consolidating.
He relaxed as he tenderly spoke, "Oh Clementine. My heart is with you."
He had been right. Hearing him say it in person, or over the phone at least, did something to me. I had never been one for pet names or nicknames, especially from someone I was interested in romantically, but this felt different. I couldn't control the way my heart fluttered, and there was no use in trying to stop the warmth spreading to my cheeks.
"It's not that serious, just stressful." I couldn't bring myself to look at him but something in me knew he had a listless smile on his face. "Enough about me though, how was your day."
"Would have been better spent with you." His eyes softened even more, and seemed to change color, if that was even possible. It was almost like a chocolate bar melting in the sun, the pools of liquid taking on a richer, brighter color.
I tried to focus on anything other than how sappy and poetic he could make me feel with just a look. I swallowed and checked the kettle.
"What'd you do instead?" I asked, playing at nonchalant.
"It's our monthly review, which means sitting through meeting after meeting after meeting." His expression shifted again. As he spoke he bobbed his head a bit and widened his eyes. It was clear this was exasperating for him.
"It's fucked they chose to do it on a Saturday too, but the lead supervisor is going on vacation on Monday for a couple weeks so we had to do it today." His words dripping of condescension as he rolled his eyes and shook his head in disapproval.
He opened his mouth to continue and then stopped himself.
"I'm sorry, maybe I need to process too."
"No it's ok." I paused, the kettle was ready so I propped the phone against the back of the counter as I went to get some loose leaf tea from the small cabinet above the stove. It was helpful to hear how frustrated he had been today. Selfishly, it soothed the part of me that believed he had been distancing himself on purpose.
"What are you doing?" There was something in his tone, curiosity sure, but something deeper that was harder to discern.
"I'm just making some tea. You can keep talking." I hadn't looked at the phone as I stood on my tip-toes and tried to find the right container.
"Well, your texts earlier got me through it. I was hoping we could talk more about that but honestly, just seeing you like this is enough."
Hearing those words made me stop what I was doing. That's what it was in his tone. He had been getting turned on. But why?
I stepped back and realized that from the angle the phone was positioned at, he had a full view of my torso. I thought about how I had been reaching. My chest had strained against the fabric of the shirt, my nipples probably becoming more prominent. And my shirt had probably ridden up, revealing the waistband of my underwear.
"Oh" Embarrassment washed over me and I wasn't even sure why. "I didn't realize."
He laughed, "I'm sorry. I hope that wasn't weird to say."
I wasn't sure how to respond. I felt mousy and demure suddenly, which was very uncharacteristic of me. Instead I focused on assembling the necessary ingredients for my cup.
"I guess I was hoping for some stress relief tonight" He alluded to the time I was drunk and Facetimed him, "but I'm ok with not doing that and I just meant, I don't know. You look beautiful."
He spoke in a hurried, almost panicked way and it made me chuckle. I grabbed my finished cup and the phone, holding it closer to get a better look at him. His cheeks were tinted red and he donned a timid smile.
"Pedro, are you flustered?" I was surprised to see him like that. A winner's pride flowed through me. I felt giddy almost, thinking about what he said. Like I did when we were at the bar. But there was a new level to it. It was clear this wasn't based off initial attraction but something deeper.
His laugh was a bit strained, "I guess so, damn." he shook his head. "I told you, you don't know what you've done to me."
Even though my ego was boosted, I was more focused on the fact that talking to him had the potential to soothe me. Sure, I had been off during this conversation but he had a way of breaking that down. Maybe it's a distraction, maybe it's a connection. In that moment, I wasn't concerned with the difference.
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Another update! I am getting back into the flow so I'm sorry if its a bit choppy in some areas.
(EDIT: I have edited this to be LESS choppy)
ALSO! Number 3 in Pascal?! I'm SHOOK. I know it'll probably change, because it always does, but thank you thank you thank you!! It means so much to know y'all read my story and (hopefully) like it :)