and “O Susannah”, all rendered at a quarter speed
and as squeaky as an old ceiling fan, the songs sad
and almost unrecognizable.
A locked box.
Later, all four wandered among the art projects;
Nina noted the expression on a cat’s face, the cunning edge of a banana in a still life. She kept her
opinions to herself, oohing and aahing at her girls’
work, marginally proficient self-portraits and one
ominous landscape, with cows and clouds.
“We mixed the paint wrong,” Maria said.
A copy of a copy.
“It happens,” said Nina. She looked at Jackson. “I have to use the ladies’.”
Jackson took both the girls’ hands and led them
to the punch bowl. Nina started towards the restroom at a walk that turned into a trot and then
a sprint. She managed to push the door open and
grab the edge of the bowl with both hands before
retching all of her lunch and most of her breakfast
into the water. She stared at the puke, a swirling
Pollack.
When did I have corn?
And she laughed, a short bark that may have
been a sob.
It was an hour as promised when they made
their way to the car; Jackson’s key was in the lock
when he glanced around at Nina and Harlan.
“Where’s Maria?” he asked.
Nina looked in the backseat, then to the school
doors fifty yards away, and shrugged. Jackson
pocketed his keys and the headed back to the
building.
“Wait here!” he shouted behind him. Nina
looked at Harlan and then at Jackson’s retreating
back.
“Go help your father,” she said. Harlan sighed,
but jogged to him. He stopped, waved back at
Nina, and put an arm around Harlan’s shoulder as
they made their way back into the building.
Nina’s felt her heart drop and her stomach rise
at the same time, then settle back where they
belonged like batter in a bowl.
She checked her purse. ATM card, keys, credit
card. She grabbed her cell phone from the front
pocket, put it under the front tire.
She backed over the phone on her way out
of the space, hit the avenue and pointed the car
west.
She needed to find the nearest ATM. She needed to find the nearest gas station.
She needed to stop crying.
What you left behind…
Like this and with this.
One or the other.
…beats all the lies…
If she could live with what happened in that
studio she could live with this too. It was the
only way,
If she could live with that, she would live with
this.
It’s the only way.
…you can invent
If I can live with that, I can live with anything.