“Is it in ours, too?” Mom asks, looking at her hands.
Arlo laughs and runs his hands back through his wet hair. “You both made it.”
“Congratulations on a thought-provoking show,” Mom says. “The photos came out nicely?”
Arlo breathes in. “Oh, yes. Mother Nature was good to me today. The moon created just enough pull,” he says, closing his palms together and shaking them toward the purple sky in gratitude.
“You put on quite the show,” I say as he rings out ocean water from his T-shirt.
He extends both of his arms out. “Art is entertainment,” he says.
“There’s no doubt you made an impression,” I say, noddingtoward a group waiting to talk to him and take photos. “Was that wax rope?”
Arlo nods, and water drips from his hair down his face. “Exactly. Gathering up all of the plastic like that is what helped convince the city to even let me do the show here. It took so long to get permits and approvals.”
I swallow down this information. If I want to do something public, it will take months to do it. I don’t have that kind of time. I unknowingly ball my hands into fists, the aluminum “petals” digging into my palms.
Arlo clasps his hands together. “I have to meet and greet, but it means a lot that you two are here.” He makes his first stop at the group, who immediately turn their phones around for selfies.
Mom and I walk down the beach, away from the crowd. “Is that type of show what you mean when you saygo big?” I ask.
“It makes a statement, and it’s memorable,” she says.
And Arlo doesn’t have to be anonymous to do it. He’s out there with his first and last name, taking photos with people, talking to them about the bigger themes of his work. My types of conversations with people are one-sided. I release an artist statement and tell them what the inspiration was. There’s never a dialogue.
“How has working with Jack been?” Mom asks.
“He’s been a great partner throughout all of this,” I say. “Very inspirational.”
“You two are getting along?” Mom says with a hint of reserve in her voice.
I smile at the thought of Jack. “I’d say so.”
Mom looks preoccupied with a thought. “I’ll say this once, then I’ll leave it alone, but be careful, Roo,” she says. “Don’t let him cloud your judgment.”
“What do you mean? My judgment isn’t clouded,” I tell her. “We’re getting to know each other.”
“You have a trip together next week, right?” Mom says skeptically.
“We do,” I say slowly, wondering where she’s going with this. “More suit-ups.”
“Roo, when you’re there, do one thing for me? Remember that you work with the man. You’re a professional. So is he. You live three thousand miles away from each other. At the end of the day, it comes down to one thing: don’t sleep with people you work with.”
I give her a look. “Are you saying this because of what happened with you and JR?”
“That is exactly why I’m saying this,” she says. “When it comes to people you work with, don’t have relationships with them, don’t marry them, and definitely don’t sleep with them.”
“What else? Don’t have kids with them?” I joke.
“Certainly don’t have kids with them. But you’re a treasure,” Mom says with a smirk before she pats me on the back.
“Gee, thanks,” I say with a roll of my eyes. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her in against me, knowing she despises affection.
“I mean it though, Roo, protect your heart,” Mom says, her face growing serious.
“You’re always telling me to stop being so careful in work. Why doesn’t that apply to love? Wasn’t it you who said that I have to test the strength of my string? Why the change of heart?”
When I look into her dark brown eyes, I can tell there’s more to the story of her and JR. My eyebrows lift in surprise.
