Page 35 of Between Now and Always

She’s been like this her whole life and we’ve been friends since we were kids. She was adopted, too. She’s of South Asian descent and her parents are Mayflower Blue bloods who were my parents best friends and neighbors in Brooklyn.

She started an organization for kids who have been in the system for more than a year without being adopted and also provided help for the transition from being wards of the state of New York to being fully independent.

They help with housing, jobs, educational access, healthcare, mental health services, everything. When she asked me to join their board, I said yes right away.

When she asked if I would give some of the kids piano lessons, I’d been less enthusiastic. I wasn’t sure what to expect with these kids. A lot of them are either fresh out of a crisis or still in the throes of one. I expected them to be unfocused and reluctant.

I’ve been so glad to be wrong. Some of them stopped coming or half assed the lessons. But there are a few who are hungry to learn, restless with creativity, and really talented.

It’s turned out to be one of the best things I’ve ever done.

The kids have given me a perspective on life I was sorely missing. They all tell me how lucky they feel to get to study with me. But it’s me who’s lucky to have the chance to do for them what my father did for me.

Being away on tour hasn’t stopped our lessons. We play on Skype once a week.

Hetal slips an arm through mine. “I know we closed nominations for the Citizen Hero award, but there’s someone I think we need to consider,” she says with a conspiratorial smile on her face.

The nominations just went out and the ceremony is in a month. All of the plans are finalized.

“Isn’t it going to be expensive to change all the graphics and stuff we’ve printed already?”

“Yes, but once you see, you’ll understand,” she says with a wide grin.

“See what?”

“Come on, it’s in Dean’s office.” She pulls me down the hall with her.

We step into the small room and she flips on the light. “Ta-da! Dean helped me set it up in here, so all the board members could see it. I thought it would be easier to convince you if you couldseeit up close. It’s an experience, right?”

My heart nearly stops beating when I see the painting in the center of the room.

I know right away that it’s Beth’s work. She’s got this distinctive style - the fantastic mixed with real - human faces and bodies with accents that are only found in the wildest imagination. The use of metallic gold and silver, and blue, was also her signature.

“Hetal, where did you get this?” I try to sound like my mind isn’t screaming.

“Isn’t it amazing? I was totally blown away,” she smiles dreamily at the painting.

The painting is Hetal’s face, but reimagined. She’s got golden suns for eyes, her lips are formed from a cluster of tiny metallic red hearts, her eyebrows are streaks of silver lightning raised in defiance. It’s beautiful - like something out of a fairytale, and yet, it is so clearly Hetal - the eternal optimist, who lifts everyone up with her loving words and her lightening quick wit.

Something’s wrong with my lungs. I can’t tell if they’re working overtime or malfunctioning, but I can’t breathe.

“Where did you get it?” I ask again. This time my voice sounds as coarse as my insides feel and she looks at me, concern furrowing her brow.

“It arrived in the mail today.”

“From where?” I ask and walk over to the canvas in the middle of the room.

“Somewhere in the city, the return address is one of the PO Box places. I mean, I knew her work was amazing, but today was the first time I’ve even considered nominating her.”

“Do youknowthe artist?”

“No, well, I mean. Yes. Kind of. Hold on, here.” She hands me her phone and I take it, holding my breath as I turn it over to look at the screen.

It’s open to a picture she posted on IG. In it, she’s standing next to the painting on her wall, her cheek pressed to it to give a side by side comparison. I read the post slowly trying to focus on the words instead of the millions of questions that are rushing around my mind.

“Thank you to the life changing artist, @thefreebeth for this mirror to my soul. It’s hard to be a woman who doesn’t look the part - The reality is that if you want to succeed in almost any career, looking as close to the standard of beauty as possible has become a requisite. So, I wear these extensions, and I don’t leave my house without my face contoured and my brows perfectly done. But nothing can be done about the half of my face paralyzed by Bell’s Palsy. I’m one of the rare cases where it hasn’t gone away on its own. Since I was seventeen, I’ve looked like I’m frowning or in pain all of the time. Even when I’m happy - which is most of the time because despite this face, I’ve got a great job, a wonderful husband and loving friends. But I’ve always wished people could see beyond it. A few months ago, I came across this IG account just by chance and saw the most beautiful paintings, and then read the stories behind them. There is something powerful about the idea of giving your spirit and soul an actual face and showing the world what you would look like if they could see your heart. I contacted the artist, told her my story, sent her a selfie and she sent me this. It arrived this morning and I couldn’t wait to show the world. This is who I am. Aren’t I beautiful?”

I hand Hetal back her phone with a trembling hand. “Wow. So, she does these for people?”

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