Page 93 of Student Seduction
I wanted him to see me.
Apparently when you’reone of the contributing artists to an exhibit at a major museum, you arrive long before the guests do for an intimate cocktail hour with the Very Important People.
I brought Drew and James with me and we enjoyed a museum tour and meeting with the head event coordinator, Claire St. John. She was Brazilian elegance in a white dress with a large ruffle up one side that would’ve made my Vera Wang wrap dress look like a potato sack. I was even more grateful for James’s magical powers as I stood next to her.
She asked questions about my piece and my mother and touched me tenderly on the arm as she offered her condolences. She named-dropped a few people I might want to mingle with later but it was all so surreal I could hardly focus on anything specific anyone said.
A large portion of my brain had already dedicated itself to spotting Aiden before he saw me. I wanted time to prepare myself, to brace for impact so that my emotions wouldn’t show. I refused to wear my heart on a Christian Siriano sleeve.
“It’s such a bold statement,” Claire said, gesturing to the four pedestals. The first held a sculpture of a vibrant young female figure, the second held a similar figure but she was pregnant and kneeling, on the third she was hollowed out and lying down. The fourth pedestal displayed a plaster heart that had been crushed mostly to crumbling pieces and dust but you could still make out the shape. “When I saw it in the Chicago Tribune, I knew we had to have it for this event,” she continued. “The dust broke my heart. And I wasn’t sure I still had a heart.”
I smiled warmly. “Thank you. I’m so glad you reached out and allowed me to be a part of this event.”
Truthfully, I’d worried the broken pieces and dust on the forth pedestal were too pretentious, but in the end that’s what was left of my mother. So I’d kept it. Claire’s comment reassured me that I’d made the right decision. When it had shown in Chicago, patrons seemed to grasp the concept well. I was glad I’d taken the risk.
I vowed then and there to continue taking risks. Even if I got my own heart crushed to dust a time or two.
The night continued in a whirlwind of drinks and fancy finger foods and elegant people introducing me to more elegant people. At times it was like I was having an out of body experience. Floating above it all and watching someone else’s life. At others, I felt like a child playing dress up in a sophisticated grown up world to which I did not belong.
Drew and James mingled but stayed close for moral support, which helped tremendously. A few of their friends came and congratulated me, offering up hugs instead of handshakes and I relaxed a little more as they continued to bring me champagne.
During the few brief moments when I had time to breathe, I stepped back and took it all in. The fountain, the lights, the beauty of the Met of the amazing opportunity I’d been given. In a way, I felt as if my mother was there with me. Reminding me that I’d worked hard and was worthy.
Several people, including one well-known art critique, inquired as to when I was opening my own gallery.
It was like having my official artist card stamped and validated. I had arrived.
Grand nights like this were exactly what I thought making it should look like, but something about it felt as hollow as my sculpture. Part of me wanted to be back in my tiny loft working. Hiding.
After Claire made her introductory welcome speech to the guests, the one man I’d been scanning the crowd for all night finally arrived.
I felt his presence before I saw him.
Everything inside my body tensed and the buzz from the champagne evaporated instantly.
Drew made a beeline for me and I forced a smile.
“I saw him,” I said on an exhale. “I’m okay.”
I could do this. I would survive.
He was here now. And heading right for me. What other choice did I have?
