Page 31 of Doctor Daddy

He shook his head. “We’re more likely to run into people I know at a game than we are here.”

I laughed. “And here I thought you were Mr. Gala-Events-and-Fancy-Museums, and I was wondering how I was going to fit in.”

“You should talk, I believe I’ve encountered you at a gala before.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now, an encounter?”

“What would you call it? Whatever you do, don’t call it a mistake.”

I think I blushed. I bit my lip and stared hard at the painting in front of us. I could not bring myself to look at him. “Definitely not a mistake.”

We turned a corner and the nature of the paintings changed from pale wispy things to bold posters I recognized as late nineteenth-century French. As a kid, I loved the movie Moulin Rouge. It was one of my mom’s favorites. She watched it all the time. Personally, I think she had a thing for Ewan McMarkor’s pretty blue eyes. I loved all the music and the dancing, and that crazy elephant room. The plot was completely lost on me.

When I was a little older, I decided that the clock man was my favorite character and when I found out he had been a real person and the Moulin Rouge a real place, I became a bit obsessed. I learned all about Toulouse-Lautrec. I even did my big fifth-grade biography report on him. He was probably the only artist I knew by name. I even had a reproduction of his Chat Noir poster on my wall. I still did.

I let out a small gasp as I dropped Mark’s arm to step in closer. “I didn’t know they had Toulouse-Lautrec. here.”

“I didn’t think you did art.” Mark chuckled.

“You know who I’m talking about?” Most of my friends through the years had no clue who I had been talking about. I think I single-handedly educated my fifth-grade class on who he was.

“I know who he is. I had to take a survey art history class when I was in college. Didn’t you?”

I shook my head. “I bounced around between so many different schools, I somehow missed that.”

I looked at every piece on display.

After that, I began paying more attention to the art on display. Our progress through the museum slowed down dramatically. Mark never once complained that I was taking too much time reading all the placards. We wound our way up to the next floor and the exhibit changed. They had everything from old furniture to fine silver to amazing portraits.

“This is almost like shopping. I mean I really want to try that chair out. Don’t you think it would look good in your living room?”

Mark cleared his throat. “I can’t say I thought of that. I guess it is a good-looking chair. But I think we would get kicked out, if not arrested if you tried to sit in it.”

“True. At least this way we don’t have to worry about finding a salesman or pretending to be surprised by how expensive it is.”

“Have you ever been furniture shopping?”

“Plenty, with mom. The worst part is trying to wedge the new piece into the car. I swear she has no sense of spatial relations.” I thought for a moment. “Or she’s crazy smart and manipulative. The sales guy almost always ended up giving her free delivery after trying to get things into the trunk.”

“I have met your mother. That sounds about right.”

We both laughed and continued through the rooms of the museum for another hour or so.

“That was surprisingly fun. Where to next?” I asked.

“You want to get a coffee?”

“Sure.” I could use a little caffeine boost. “Do you mind if we head back so we don’t get stuck in traffic?”

“Do you have plans later?” He knew I did.

“Mom is going to expect me at some point,” I confessed.

We agreed on a coffee shop more local to where we lived. I claimed large overstuffed upholstered chairs while Mark ordered our drinks.

I was more tired than I realized after our time at the museum. I reached out, letting my arm drape over the chair. I hooked Mark’s fingers with my pinky. We sat there, not talking, fingers twisted together, enjoying the last drops of our drinks, enjoying just being together.

“I’m going to have to get going soon. I have this thing with my family. An old friend is coming over and they expect me to be there.”

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