“A huge disappointment, I’m sure. But listen, we’re going to have enough food for an army. Could I talk you into joining us at some point today? I’m doing typical stuff on the grill for lunch, and then we’re having pulled pork sandwiches for dinner. It’d be a shame to miss out on your own gorgeous back yard on a day like this.”
I stop in my tracks. I know he’s just trying to be nice, and that it would be better for everyone if I could just get the fuck over it. But I can’t.
“You know, Stirling, that would be great if it were just about anyone renting my house this summer except my ex-girlfriend and her family,” I say, without bothering to look at him.
I don’t have to turn around to know that I’ve hit a nerve.
“I…I’m sorry, Damon. I’m just trying to make and awkward situation less so. And it seems pretty crappy that you should be trapped up there for days on end, especially on a holiday, despite the circumstances.”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” I sigh. I pivot to face him and come back down a couple of steps. “That’s really kind of you, and you and Margot are being great about this. And I can’t expect you to understand the details of what happened between me and Amanda, or how much our breakup affected me. So I’m sorry I jumped down your throat. But it’s still going to be a ‘no thank you’ from me. As dismal as it sounds, working will actually be good for me right now. And painting is what I love more than anything else, after all.” And I used to love Amanda just as much.
“I understand. No hard feelings on this end. And if you change your mind, you’re welcome to join us.”
“Thank you, Stirling.”
He waves as he heads back to the kitchen, and I continue upstairs. Now if I can just make good on my plan. My work has always brought me the greatest thrill, and has been the biggest healer for me. I poured every ounce of my pain and heartache after Amanda dumped me into my work. Truth be told, it was really the turning point in my career—the paintings that I showed sold fabulously and really put me on the map as a contemporary artist.
Today, I’m not so sure. I may be blocked for the first time in my career, and it scares the hell out of me. Having poured all of the emotion into my work before, and feeling like I was healed, and past all of that shit, only to have it dredged up again is more than I might be able to handle right now. There’s so much new anger—and fear. I thought Amanda was out of my life forever and that I’d never have to see her again. Clearly, she feels she has unfinished business with me, and I just don’t want to deal with it.
For the time being, I just focus on putting my groceries away and making another cup of coffee. Except this time, I add a nip of the whiskey I bought, and I don’t care how early in the morning it still is. I built a small balcony off the studio, which is hidden from the back yard, thank god. It faces the ocean a little more directly, off to one side of the house, so I know I can sit out there without the others noticing me. And all the greenery creates a bit of a sound barrier for them too, so I won’t be able to hear too much of what’s going on down there.
I take my high-octane mug of coffee and the newspaper I bought out onto the balcony. Some would call the morning gloomy before the fog has lifted. But I see the colors that are waiting to be revealed by the sun, I see the silver shimmer of the horizon. Plus, the gloom reflects my mood right now. If I were only inspired enough to paint it.
I shake the thought of work from my head and open the paper. Procrastination at its best. I’ve got a good buzz going by the time I ditch the Finance for Arts & Entertainment. No amount of liquor-infused coffee could have prepared me for the headline that’s sprawled all over the front page of the section:LOCAL SUPERSTAR CANCELLED BY NYC GALLERY.
Jesus. I’ve been happy that I’ve been adopted by Hawaii as a local, until now. Skimming the article is about all I can handle right now, and though it’s slanted with me as the gallery’s victim, it’s still embarrassing as hell. I would think that the gallery would want to keep press to a minimum, which is why I came home from the airport without making a big stink about it. I should have known that news like this doesn’t stay under wraps.
I reach into my pocket for my phone. Holiday weekend or not, my agent better pick up, because if she doesn’t, she’s only prolonging my tirade.
“Damon! I was just about to call you!” She answers on the second ring, and I’m grateful that she didn’t have her calls forwarded to her answering service where a “Nancy Cardigan’s office, please leave a message” in an automated voice would have greeted me.
“Is that so?” I say. “Nan, what the hell is going on? I thought we agreed this should be contained, managed,something.”
“We agreed we’d control thespinon it. Damon, do you have any idea how great this is turning out to be for you right now?”
“Not really, but have you seen the Honolulu Star-Advertiser today? Jesus Christ, this is embarrassing. I’m at the top of my game, so being cancelled by a gallery at this level doesn’t speak very highly of my work.” I shake the newspaper in the air as if she can see me.
“HSA is next in my pile, number one. Number two, you’re damn right you’re at the top of your game, and the gallery made ahugemistake cancelling your show at the last minute.Theirmistake, not yours. Let me tell you, everyone wanted to see that show, and now almost every other gallery in New York is clamoring for your work.”
“Great,” I say after a moment. “Then just send the paintings over to whatever gallery wants them next.”
“No way. Because the latest bulletin from me is that you’re holed up in your gallery working on a few additional pieces to accommodate the spaces of the larger galleries—the next show will be even bigger and better.”
“I see.” I’d come in from the balcony and started pacing around the studio. Now I slump onto the nearby couch.
“There’s only one glitch in this plan that I can see, and that’s the fact that you never made it to New York—you’re still in Kauai. Are you sure you don’t want to come to your studio here in New York anyway, get the city vibes going, hometown and all that?”
“I…I don’t think so, Nan. I’m tired and I’m just not up for it.”
“I understand,” she says after a pause. “And I’m really sorry, I know it was a nasty disappointment at first. But look how we’re turning it around. As much as I’d love to see you in person, you really couldn’t find better inspiration than Kauai. I bet your gardens are as gorgeous as ever right now.”
“Yep, just as beautiful as they were when I left for the airport yesterday. I’m not feeling very inspired by my surroundings, though.”
I can hear Nancy shifting like she’s sitting up in her seat at attention.
“Why not? What’s going on?”
“You’re not going to believe this, Nan. I didn’t even believe it at first. I still felt like I was in a bad movie about my life or some kind of nightmare when I woke up this morning.”
