Page 91 of If I Could

“Hey, Mom, where have you been?” I ask because I haven’t talked to her for a few days. She texted and said she was super busy getting ready for the gallery event, which was last night. I’ve been dying to hear how it went.

“Sorry I haven’t called. There was just so much to do.”

“It’s fine. I was just kidding. So tell me what happened.”

“Honey, you’re not going to believe it!” she says, her voice brimming with excitement.

“You sold a painting?”

“Not just one, but two! I sold both of them!”

“Are you serious? Mom, that’s great!”

“I was so shocked I didn’t think it was real. I thought maybe the person meant to buy someone else’s painting and got mixed up.”

“Did the same person buy both?”

“No. One sold last night to a woman from Connecticut. And then today, a business man who was at the showing called and asked if the other one was still available. It was, so he bought it!”

“Mom, that’s amazing!”

“It really is. Claire said new artists rarely sell two pieces in one night, especially if there hasn’t been much buzz about them in the art community. And I’ve had no buzz other than Claire talking about me to some of her friends.”

“So what happens now?” I slow down as I pass Kyle’s house. I don’t see his motorcycle out front. Maybe it’s in the garage.

“I’ve already started another painting. If I’m lucky, I’ll sell one or two before I have to move back.”

Haveto, meaning she doesn’t want to. She loves it there. I can tell. Every time we talk she always sounds so happy. So full of life.

“At this rate you might sell ten by the end of summer.” I pull into my driveway and park.

She laughs. “I doubt it. I think last night was a fluke. But a good one. We made five thousand dollars.”

“Mom, that’s awesome. And it wasn’tweit was you. You did all that yourself. Because you’re talented and the people there saw that. That’s why your paintings sold. It wasn’t a fluke.”

“You’re sweet for saying that but I’m not counting on selling any more. If it happens, great, but if not, at least now we have money to put toward an apartment and maybe a small down payment on a car.”

“I’ll have money by then too so at least we won’t be completely broke.”

“Your money goes for college. I’m not letting you spend it any other way. I don’t want you waiting years to go back.”

“Mom, it won’t be years. I’m still planning to go back in the spring.”

“Did you tell your advisor that?”

“Yes. We talked last week. He said I’ll be fine. And this will actually work out better. If I finish up in the spring I’ll graduate in May, when they have a bigger ceremony. The December one is lame.”

“You’re always seeing the positive. I love that about you, honey.”

“Where do you think I learned it?”

I hear her sniffle. “Don’t make me cry. I miss you so much. I wish I could fly back there and see you.”

“We can’t afford it. And you can’t leave your studio. You’ve got paintings to do.”

“I really do love it here,” she says, getting excited again. “This city has so much energy and such a diverse mix of people. Last night I met this woman who sings in the opera and writes children’s books on the side. She was fascinating to talk to. We’re meeting for coffee next week.”

“Sounds like you’re making friends.”

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