“I quit.” I don’t ease him into the news.
“Wait,youquitwork? What happened in Long Island?”
I roll my eyes and give him a very brief summary. I didn’t mean to tell him about Gavin and me, but it all comes out with the rest of it. Damn twin bond that might exist.
“Yeah,” he says after I finish. “I guess that makes sense then. Dad and I have not been making your life any easier.”
“It’s okay. I love you. I don’t mind helping you.” Most days.
“You shouldn’t have to.” Ajay sighs, head dropping down to focus on his dessert. “I know that; I’m sorry. And I’ll talk to Dad about my work. It’s just so hard to talk to him.”
“I get that.” Better than anyone, probably. “You don’t have to do it now if you aren’t ready.”
“I’ve actually started the conversation a few times. Told him I wanted to paint more and maybe just focus on client relations.”
That would be a great idea, actually. Ajay is the best at that since it’s mostly schmoozing rich people, something that comes naturally to him.
“Dad thought I was joking. He kept laughing and saying it was the best joke he’d heard in a while and then he assigned me a new show.”
“I didn’t know you’d tried.”
“Nothing came from it, so I didn’t want to advertise.”
“Dad has a...unique view of the world.” An understatement because I still want to comfort Ajay. “Well, I won’t be involved with Loot anymore, so take all the time you need.”
“I’m going to tell him,” Ajay says, maybe more to himself than to me.
“Eat your cheesecake, Ajay.” I turn the TV back on, spending some time with my baby brother.
“Wait, so you and Carlyle? After all the protests? Sitting in a tree? K-I-S-S-I-N-G?”
“Eat your cheesecake, Ajay.”
I’m bored.
It’s only been three days since I got back from Long Island, and without work, I have nothing to do.
I love TV, but I’m so used to watching it while working that I’m a little restless watching it without something else to do.
I try to be on my phone while I’m watching, but Mom keeps calling and I keep ignoring her, which makes me feel guilty. I try to text every now and then so she knows I’m safe and doesn’t call the National Guard (which she’s threatened to do), but that just makes her call even more right after the text, assuming I’m free if I can text.
Gavin starts calling too, but I’m not ready to talk to him yet either. I do feel a deep relief when I see his name flash on my screen, but it’s followed by a paralyzing fear of having to talk to him about feelings that I’m not sure I can acknowledge to him, and the call goes to voicemail.
When I get too restless, I start cleaning with the TV on, then cooking. I have enough food to feed a soccer team.
Apartment spotless and belly (and fridge) full, I leave the apartment and go to my local bodega, where the owner always keeps some art market periodicals in stock since she’s so close to the major auction houses.
Just because I’m not working doesn’t mean I can’t keep up to date on the market. Who knows where I’ll end up?
The owner is relieved to know I’m not dead, not having believed Ajay. And throws in free cheesecake.
I’m going through a great article on some potential upcoming trends, and eating cheesecake, when my door opens. “Sonia?” I ask, peeking up over the back of the couch.
“That’s funny. You don’t look like you’re incapable of talking. So you should be able to talk to me on the phone that’s right next to you there.” Mom sweeps into the room, eyes taking in my condo and then landing on me, in sweats on the couch. She’s carrying a bag of what smells like butter chicken and garlic naan that she drops off on my kitchen counter.
I sigh; I still have Sonia’s leftovers in my fridge and the food that I made too.
But I’m not surprised.
