Page 20 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

The crushing feeling sprang up in my chest as I offered a feeble nod.

“Good, now we can all be friends.”

She turned her attention back to Mihir. “I’m sorry. I’m usually not this disagreeable.”

Mihir waved his hand. “It’s all in good fun. Do you mind if we talk more, or would you like us to leave?”

With a shy smile, she responded. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me about your work, Tara.” He turned up his charm, saying her name in a particularly seductive way.

She smiled, pushed a non-existent stray lock behind her ear, and gave a quick swipe of her tongue over her juicy lips. Was she doing it deliberately, or was it an unconscious reaction to Mihir’s charisma? Whatever it was, it pissed me off.

“I’m an art advisor.”

“She’s also a phenomenal artist,” I said, though I hadn’t meant to speak my thoughts out loud.

Her soft eyes now turned to me. “Do you mean that?”

I shifted my body to face her. “I just spent a ridiculous amount on your painting. Do you think I would’ve if I didn’t think it was absolutely worth every penny? You know I wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

Her gaze traveled down to her hands. “Thank you.”

Mihir cleared his throat, bringing us back to the moment. “What exactly does an art advisor do?”

“Um, well.” She stole a glance at me. “We look at our clients’ requirements, the décor, layout, and budget, then recommend artwork that would best accentuate the space. We also help procure the pieces we recommend, providing a platform for new and lesser-known artists. We advise collectors on what to buy. Art education is a big part of what we do for private collectors. Every so often, I work with galleries and museums to authenticate and appraise paintings, trace provenance, that kind of thing. Oil paintings are my area of specialization.” She snuck another glance at me before smiling at Mihir.

“Sounds exciting,” he said.

“It can be. Although most of my work involves long hours of examining old paintings and a lot of research.”

“What would you recommend to a new collector like me?” Mihir asked.

“Since when are you a collector?” I scoffed.

“A new collector.” He shot back fast.

Tara’s eyes darted between us. “I know you’re only trying to prolong this conversation, but alright, I’ll bite. From what little I’ve gathered about you, I’d recommend getting the original works that define the renaissance and impressionist canon, because nothing less will gratify you. They’re difficult to get your hands on, but that’s a part of it, the thrill of the chase. And none of the feminist and queer art that’s so much in vogue now.”

When I turned to accost her, I found her unfazed eyes and sweet smile resting on Mihir. “You’re not serious,” I said. “You’d never recommend that. To anyone!”

“No?” She said and turned in her seat to me. “What did you think I’d say?”

“You’d introduce him to the wider world of newer, postcolonial artists. And you’re not fooling anyone with the none of that feminist and queer stuff. I know your work. Your MFA thesis was on Nilima Sheikh’s oeuvre, and your own work subverts the male, colonial, heteronormative gaze. For fuck’s sake, you wrote a paper on the caste and class juxtaposition of the woman who was our nude model in college. I helped you edit it. Ask me what else I know.” With arms crossed over my chest, I leaned back in the seat.

She slipped me a sly smile as if she had expected my reaction. “Not bad, Rehani. What else do you know about me?” She crossed her arms to mirror mine.

I drew my brows together and fumed with recalcitrance.

She smiled at Mihir. “I apologize for the misdirection, but he’s right. That’s exactly what I’d recommend. After all, the true purpose of art is to disrupt the status quo an—”

“—and unsettle the soul.” I completed her sentence. That earned me a subtle but unmistakably warm smile.

Mihir studied us for a moment. “I need more coffee. Anyone want anything?”

“A cup of water, if you don’t mind,” Tara replied.

As Mihir walked away, I wondered if Tara and I had crossed a critical threshold in our current relationship, as it stood.

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