“Language,” Dad barks. “You and I are going to have a long talk when you get home.”
“No, we aren’t. Because I quit.”
“You can’t quit. You’re my daughter!”
I hang up the phone before I have to respond to that. I stare at the phone for a few seconds, until my phone lights up again indicating another call from Dad.
I throw the technology on the ground in a fit of temper. Then I feel stupid about it, since now I have to fish it out of the grass. And hope I don’t have a cracked screen to deal with. The distraction helps me feel a little less angry.
I squat down and find my phone, noting neutrally it’s not cracked. That’s one less thing to worry about, I suppose. I sink fully down to the ground after I get the phone, needing a minute with all of this.
I still can’t believe Dad would do this to me. I know he doesn’t respect my opinions, but it’s a sound decision to branch out. I can’t believe he refuses to see that.
And to just take away any chance I had of building my dream...
The tears come, falling freely.
After any makeup I had is completely ruined, I try to wipe my face. My hands come back with streaks of black, so I can’t go back through the polo fields.
But the game should be ending soon. I need to move fast.
I skirt the edge of the field, avoiding everyone as they focus on the game. I grab a napkin from a passing waiter to wipe my face. He gives me a worrying look, but he’s too well trained to comment on my Halloween-mask face.
Hoping I got all the makeup off my face, I enter the house. I’m halfway to the stairs when the door opens behind me. I look back, reflexive curiosity overriding the need to flee.
“Priya, can I talk to you?” the host of this weekend asks.
“Harrison. Thank you again for all your hospitality.”
I will be professional and pleasant to him if it kills me. This isn’t the only art he’s ever going to sell, and he’s a buyer as well. I need to maintain this relationship. Even if it kills me.
“I want to thank you for all your work on this. It was very well done and I’m sorry if it was for nothing.”
I shake my head, wanting this conversation over so I can cry in peace and wipe this too-wide smile off my face. It’s beginning to hurt my cheeks.
“It’s my job. I look forward to working with you on another project.” I take a step backwards to the stairs, hoping that will help end the conversation.
“Honestly, I didn’t even know who I was going to pick. You guys both gave me such great options. Maybe I should thank your dad for taking the decision out of my hand.” He tries a tentative smile, wanting to lighten the mood.
“I’ll be sure to tell him Loot could help.” Fat chance. I’m not talking to the CEO of Loot.
Harrison’s face falls. “But I have a feeling you were the last to know about the new development. And that’s not right.”
“It’s business. One adapts. You know.” I don’t know if I can form longer sentences without breaking into tears again, so I need to get out of this conversation. I keep looking back and forth to the stairs, wanting to go up them, now.
“I’ll be in contact for some buying I want to do. As you know, my art collection is going to get smaller and I’ll need to replace some blank spaces on the wall.”
“Give me a call or email and we can set up an appointment to go over some items I have in mind for you specifically.” If I still even work at the company. Which seems unlikely since I just cussed at my boss and told him I quit.
Maybe I can get Harrison to come wherever I end up. When I stop being sad.
“Sounds good.” Harrison looks uncomfortable again.
I take that as my cue to leave and turn around. Then I stop and look back at him. “Actually, if I could impose on you one more time?”
“Anything.” He sounds relieved to be able to help.
“Would it be possible to give me a ride to the closest Long Island Rail station so I can get back into the city? Have to get back quickly.” It would take way too long to get a company car out here when I feel this shitty.
