Page 21 of The Artist's Rival

“No, it’s not the same one as the one that’ll take you to my manager,” she laughs, picking up the napkin and scribbling on it. “There you go, see you later!” She waves goodbye and is gone, soaked into the crowd.

Ellie sits for a while, looking at her two leftover dumplings and the slightly greased napkin with Tatiana’s number on it.

She sighs and picks up her phone to call the curator.

9

TATIANA

Tatiana feels her phone vibrate, just as she’s pouring wine into her friend’s glass. She sits back down to check the message, surrounded by the lively chatter of her companions.

Tomorrow 10 at my studio? – Ellie.

Tatiana adds the number to her contact list, before responding, Am or Pm?

She puts the phone back, listening in to something Connie began saying. The phone vibrates again.

Am, very funny. The address is Pearl St, 284.

Tatiana turns the word Pearl over in her mind, delighting in its sound. What a good omen, she thinks, finally able to enjoy the conversation.

“So as I was saying,” Connie excitedly exclaims, to the numerous hushes reminding her of them being in a restaurant, “All love is just desire wearing fancy clothes.”

Tatiana watches everyone’s reaction, thinking the proposition over.

“No, I don’t think that’s true,” Tatiana says. “Sometimes it starts out this way, sure. But you can’t tell me that the old couples we see strolling down the park alleys, picking out flowers for each other despite their hurting backs, are in love based solely on desire?”

“No, but if it started out that way, isn’t it its core?” Connie asks, pouring herself more of the ruby red wine.

“No, maybe the core fluctuates?” responds Tatiana, spinning the slippery spaghetti around her fork.

“No, I think it’s just that. Sex. Sometimes you fall for the most unexpected person, why? Because you want their dick,” she concludes, making the table laugh wildly. Tatiana smiles, compassionate. Everyone knew Connie’s affair with Terry was a matter of weeks, besides Connie herself, apparently.

“I just feel so old. Like, I’m thirty next week, and I still keep running around in circles,” she sighs.

The table quiets down, everyone relating the sentiment to themselves, measuring the degree to which their own lives correspond. Marcel, invited last minute by Tatiana, almost hid his engagement ring under his plate.

“Alright, thanks for the reminder, Connie,” Tatiana jokes, trying to lighten up the mood.

Truth be told, she began noticing these thoughts float around her own mind, feeling that her unstable dating is unbecoming for her age. Remembering her parents’ family life at 28, she often sinks in embarrassment. On the other hand, hers is a different generation, with its own customs.

“Let’s all get dessert,” Marcel suggests.

–

Back in her bedroom, undressing to shower, Tatiana remembers her appointment with Ellie. She sets up an avalanche of alarms to be released in the morning, praying to whatever has the power to let her be on time. Her recently deepening habit of sleeping in began getting on her nerves, very un-springlike. She gets in the shower, and the water drops hit her back in a pleasant massage, relaxing the tense muscles. She sings little fragments of songs to herself, content with her place in life, even though quite unsettled romantically.

–

The violence of alarms hitting her ears makes her regret every choice she has made up until this point. She tries shielding herself from the flood of sounds, but to no avail. Looking at the time, she understands she needs to hurry up. Reluctantly, she gets on her feet, sleepy and disturbed.

“This is no state to create,” she mutters under her breath, picking out underwear from her overflowing drawer.

She grabs an apple and a pre-bought cappuccino from her fridge, checking the way to Ellie’s studio. Tatiana is decidedly not a morning person, which she always thought only added to her artistic personality. Perhaps she was wrong.

The stream of words running out of the radio makes her dizzy so she turns it off, welcoming the quiet. In silence, she drives towards Pearl Street, already lamenting the lack of spaces to park. She decides to call Ellie.

“Hey,” she decides to get straight to the point, “where can I leave my car?”

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