Page 118 of Rush

I feel my throat thicken with tears. Christ, not here. Pull it together, Ari.

Moira turns to face me and stares at me. “If I told you that I wanted this painting in my gallery, what would you say?”

I swallow past the thickness. “I’d say that I would want to have my paintings in your gallery more than anything. But I can’t give you this painting.”

“Why did you bring it today then?”

“Because…I thought I could.”

She’s thoughtfully staring at me. “You love the man in this painting.”

It’s not a question. But, still, I answer, “Yes.”

“I loved a man once, too. Total asshole. I hope your man isn’t an asshole.”

Laughter slips past my lips. “He can be.” Not that he’s mine anymore.

She laughs, too. “Aren’t they all at times? But it’s whether they recognize they’ve been an ass and stop being one or they don’t care and carry on regardless. Mine was the latter.”

Mine is the former.

She smiles brightly at me. “Okay then. Show me this other painting you’ve brought with you, and let’s see if it’s equally as good as this one.”

Moira loved the other painting I’d brought to show her. It was a slightly abstract portrait of a beautiful woman. Totally different than the painting of Ares and me.

The woman in the picture wasn’t inspired from anyone I’d seen. It was just straight from the heart. A recent painting from only days ago.

The woman is alive with color, but her eyes are closed. The expression on her face is wistful, achingly sad, and the abstract portrays her feeling of utter loneliness.

Yes, I’m fully aware of the fact that the woman in the painting represents my feelings right now.

But that’s art. It’s a reflection of our innermost desires, wants, needs, and feelings. It’s emotional and messy. Just like life.

And Moira loved it.

She said she loved the contrast in my ability to paint, and she offered me a showing on the spot. And get this: she had an opening for someone to work sales on the gallery floor, and she asked if I would be interested in the job.

I was like, “Hell yes!”

When I walked out of the gallery, the first person I wanted to tell was Ares.

Then, I remembered.

I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do.

But I wanted to tell someone, so I called my dad and told him the good news.

He was really happy for me. He asked me if I wanted to come home to celebrate, and I accepted.

It’s not like I have anyone else to celebrate with.

So, I’m in a cab on my way to my dad’s.

But, first, I’ve got a stop to make.

There’s something I need to do.

I get out of the cab outside of The New York Giants headquarters and training facility after paying the driver the fare. I decide not to ask him to wait while I go inside, instead deciding I’ll call for another cab to take me to my dad’s.