Page 9 of The Artist's Rival

She ends up purchasing a lemon zest & cinnamon fragrance, perfect in her mind, to welcome spring. Perfume has always been an important part of her personality, and an unfortunately expensive tool to cope with unpleasant emotions.

With the newly purchased scent in her purse, she decides to make the rest of the way by bus, feeling her legs grow tired. The affair with Tatiana still rattling around her mind, she hears her phone ring.

“Yes?” She picks up.

“Hi! It’s Emma, I’m calling to remind you about your exhibition opening in three days?”

Ellie chuckles a bit at the thought that she could somehow forget such an important event, nonetheless grateful for the reminder.

“Hi Emma, thanks a lot. Are there any new important guests, guests I don’t know about?”

Emma pauses for a bit, and Ellie can hear her exhale into the phone.

“Yes… Actually. Margaret said she would show up.”

The news tightens Ellie’s chest, a grief worked over and healed, all the same present. She sits down at a nearby bench, waiting for her bus to arrive. She hasn’t seen Margaret in a year and was not really expecting her to show up out of nowhere.

“Alright, well. She is a part of the art world, and we’re on civil terms,” says Ellie rationally, though little needles of anxiety sting her lungs.

“Great, you have all the details in your mailbox,” summarizes Emma. “See you there?”

“See you there. Make sure to go over everything twice.” And having said so, Ellie hangs up.

Her complex feelings for Margaret manage to eclipse her grievances related to Tatiana for the duration of the bus ride. Her old love, always a difficult person, could be a true challenge to manage during events. Getting off on her street and standing in front of the front door, however, Ellie decides to cast all the worries aside for the night.

She prepares chamomile tea and plays French New Wave films, for a moment silently criticizing herself for procrastinating her French lessons. Bundled up, she lets the melodic language carry her troubling feelings, and finally, enveloped by her thick blanket, she drifts away to sleep somehow unable to completely get thoughts of Tatiana bloody Khan and her shimmering red hair and full lips out of her head.

5

TATIANA

The intestines of her wardrobe seemed to spill out onto her in the most chaotic of ways. Tatiana rummaged through her clothes, trying to think of the most creative and flattering of combinations, failing miserably. She had a particularly violent love-hate relationship with getting ready to attend events; on the one hand feeling attracted by the glamour of dressing up, on the other always procrastinating until the very last minute. Finally, she decides to call Connie.

“You need to help me,” she cries, in between two suits and three dresses. “I have tons of clothes, I don’t think any look good, I need to leave in three hours, and I still haven’t done my make-up or hair,” she spits out in one breath.

“Three hours is a lot of time,” Connie laughs. “What’s the big deal about this? You go to these events a few times a week, sometimes.”

Tatiana freezes, side-tracked. She hasn’t questioned why this opening, Ellie’s opening, put so much pressure on her. She simply caved in, accepting that for this evening she must look like a god, or muse. She wants to look powerful, self-assured, and of good taste.

“It’s this Ellie Matthews,” she explains, trying on another shirt, “we argued about each other’s art, and she said some pretty rude things. I want to look good to spite her, I guess.”

Or because I want to fuck her?

The shirt looks disproportionate and lands on the quickly growing pile of unacceptable clothing.

“How is that even connected in your mind?” inquiries Connie, slowly giving up on the thread.

Tatiana doesn’t answer, whirling around her bedroom, growing desperate.

“Listen,” Connie lights up suddenly, “remember that suit you wore a month ago to Gustav’s concert? It looked so good on you. And the blouse you wore made it very androgynous, kind of hot.”

“Kind of hot?”

“Very hot.”

After hanging up, Tatiana decides to go with Connie’s advice and wear the androgynous, hot suit. What feels like hours of ironing, finally makes the suit and the blouse acceptable.

On the way, she’s surprised to realize that she will make it on time. The traffic is light, and the sky is without a single cloud. Soon enough, the stars will richly pepper the sky. Tatiana feels a rush of excitement that always comes to her with artistic events. The vibrant crowd attending these never fails to sweep her up in some fruitful conversation, the drinks are always free, and she feels on top of the world, knowing that often the parties are invite-only. It’s exactly what she dreamt of, choosing to attend art school.

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