Page 64 of Back to Me

“Theresa,” I interrupt. Their laughter slowly subsides, and she turns to me. “Can I speak with you a moment?”

“Of course,” she says, her smile fading.

Richard clears his throat. “Julia and I will get back to your exhibit.” Digging into his pocket, he pulls out a small card, handing it to me. “If you’re ever in the market for an office or even a house, give us a call.”

Hesitating, I take the card from him. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” Holding out my hand to both Richard and Julia, I say, “It was very nice meeting the both of you.”

“Likewise,” Julia says. Her grin never falters even after she releases my hand. “Congratulations on the exhibit.”

Theresa and I wait until Richard and Julia are no longer in sight before speaking.

“Tonight has turned into a huge success, Graham. I hear such wonderful remarks about you and your talent. Mr. Price did an excellent job in selecting you for this exhibition.”

I don’t respond, not wanting to listen to another round of praise. Although tonight was for me, it feels wrong to hear people continually complimenting me.

Sensing something’s wrong, Theresa crosses her arms, concern filling her kind eyes. “Is everything okay? What did you want to speak to me about?”

With hooded eyes, I look over her shoulder at the entrance to the exhibit before landing my eyes back on her.

“I was wondering if you knew the reason why Sara’s name was left out of the exhibit.”

“Who?” Her face shifts, her mouth turns down, and her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Sara,” I say, pausing and waiting for her name to somehow spur a reaction from her. I’m left standing, waiting and confused when her face doesn’t change. She’s still staring at me with those same confused eyes, her mouth turned down and her eyebrows furrowed.

“My girlfriend,” I add, naïvely believing it would somehow spark some recognition. “She’s the one who did the five collaborative pieces with me.”

“I’m sorry, Graham,” she says, shaking her head. “I have no idea who you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of Sara before.”

“Mr. Price never mentioned her to you?” The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, the blood draining from my face.

“Not that I can remember.”

I rake my fingers through my hair, wondering how Mr. Price could forget to mention Sara’s part in this exhibit. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, Graham.” Her apologetic voice draws my attention back to her. “Are you sure this was supposed to be a collaborative exhibition? When Mr. Price explained all your pieces to me, he never mentioned Sara, only you as the sole artist.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” I choke out. “When I had my interview, it was Mr. Price’s idea for me to do five collaborative pieces with Sara. That’s why there are five paintings in there that are done with charcoal. My girlfriend draws with charcoal.” I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to let my emotions get the better of me. I realize how the words ‘my girlfriend’ had poured from my mouth so easily as if it was the most natural thing to say. But now as I’m standing here, saying them once again, I’m not so sure whether they still ring true.

Looking at Theresa and the conversation I had with her and the older couple from before, I trust her when she tells me she has no idea what I’m talking about. I believe her when she tells me Mr. Price never told her this was a collaborative exhibition.

I point toward the entrance of the building, my arm weighing heavier than I remember it ever being before.

“We had an agreement that every sign would have Sara’s name next to mine. Every plaque beneath our paintings would have her name listed as well. But her name isn’t printed anywhere, Theresa, and I need to know why.”

“I really am sorry, Graham,” she apologizes once more. Her apologies do nothing to alleviate the sickness resting in my gut. The pain remains there, building and growing, turning itself into a hardened rock settling at the pit of my stomach.

“I wish I had an answer for you,” she shrugs. “It’s probably best if you speak to Mr. Price directly. Maybe it was an accident. I’m sure it’s a simple misunderstanding.”

Swallowing back the frustration, I press my lips into a flat line and give Theresa a simple nod, knowing this conversation can only go so far. Theresa doesn’t have the answers any more than I do. But there is one difference between her and me. Somehow, that rock resting in the pit of my stomach is telling me this isn’t a simple misunderstanding, and it wasn’t an accident.

“Mr. Price will be out for a few days, but I’m sure you could reach him when he is feeling better.” Nodding her head behind her, she says, “For now, let’s get back to the exhibit. There are crowds of people waiting to meet you.”

My chest caves in and my breathing increases. I can’t think straight, and soon the dim white lights illuminating the darkened hallway make me feel small.

I nod, only to appease Theresa. “Right. I’ll be in there in a few. I just have to use the restroom first.”

“Great, I’ll see you in there.” Grinning, she leaves me standing in the hallway.

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