Page 51 of Is This for Real?
“Who are you?”
I whisper, “A friend of Rory’s.” I don’t want Callie to hear.
“What?”
“Family friend.” And I jerk my head over to indicate Rory. I feel my face flush. Callie is now fully turned toward him and has her arm around him. Their conversation looks intense, like they’re arguing. Callie puts her hand on his arm, and he moves it away. I focus on my dinner companion. I don’t want Callie to think I’m worried.
“Oh.” She nods knowingly. About what? What have I revealed?“He’s very attractive.”
“Yes.” I glance at him again. I probably look like I like him. That’s good for the deception.
I turn back to her. Since it’s just the two of us, I ask, “Rafael is so emotionally open. But that also involves you. Are you okay with that? How do you do that?”
She shrugs. “It’s an emotion. Emotions are universal. And it’s still only the surface. The surface of what we said. The painting should evoke the emotion of what we felt, but I think, maybe, you have to have felt that, too, to feel it again. I’m not sure it can evoke a feeling you’ve never felt. What do you think?”
I nod. “I don’t know. I mean, when I read certain writers, I can feel the pain or the terror or the tension, so I have felt that emotion before, obviously, but not at that level. I think artists can make you feel something even if you haven’t felt it before.”But she hasn’t really answered my question. And I am prying.“I’m a writer, and the latest feedback from agents is that they’re not emotionally engaged enough. I need to expose more of myself. But I’m having a hard time with expressing so much publicly.” If I express what I feel, and if Rory says no tonight, he will seeallthat I felt if this book is published.
She nods. “I don’t know how he does it. It used to bother me, that our relationship was part of his art, but”—her eyes soften as she glances at him—“most artists seem to have a muse. And it’s just the way he is.”
I need a muse.
Ciara clinks her glass and toasts Rafael. Rafael gives another little speech, thanking Ciara—and his girlfriend. Lucio has his arm around Ciara, and he kisses her lightly on the cheek. Rory’s parents seem very much in love still. I can see why Rory is looking for magic.
Lucio says, “Penelope, you had a question for Rafael. Did you get to ask him?”
Absolute silence. Everyone turns to look at me. I feel a heated flush spreading from my cheeks down to my shoulders and chest.Just ask.I shake my head. “It’s okay.”
His girlfriend says, “No, no, you have such interesting questions. Was it about how he is so emotionally open?”
I swallow. “Yes, you expose so much of your life in your work. How do you do that?” My voice wavers. I focus on Rafael, ignoring the rest of the table.
Rafael says, “At first I didn’t. But I react to the emotion in other works, so exploring feelings and going deeper was what I wanted to do. For me, it was worth it to do that deeper excavation.”
I nod. I have to decide if it is worth it. The conversation erupts again.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” his girlfriend says.
So much for hoping that my embarrassment wasn’t obvious.
“No, no, I’m glad I could ask him. Gave me a lot to think about.”
Rory is suddenly there. He pulls over a free chair from the empty table next to us and sits. He introduces himself to Rafael’s girlfriend. He puts his arm around me, and I lean against him. It feels right.
“Shall we go home soon?” he asks.
“Yes. Let me just run to the bathroom.” After I say goodbye and thank his parents, I make my way around the tables in the restaurant to the back of the room where a chalk sign saysToilette.
One woman is fixing her makeup in the little foyer lined with mirrors. I pass her and squeeze into one of the stalls. The outer, wooden door to the bathroom clangs shut. The click-clack of heels approaching the mirrors announces that another person has entered the bathroom.I hope it’s not his mom. I don’t want to be the one to field questions about our fake dating situation.
As I exit the stall, Callie is standing there by the mirrors, her back to them. Waiting.
“I didn’t think Rory would dare date you.”
I push the dispenser for soap. I’m not sure how to respond to that. I don’t want to encourage her attack.
“‘She’s one of my best friends.’” She imitates Rory’s voice.
“Doesn’t it make sense to date your best friend?” I ask.
