Page 84 of Don't Tell

"Someone who is interested in the work."

He pulls back and turns me around. His hands stay at my waist.

He looks at my face. "Who?"

"Someone Brandt mentioned. He said he'd been hearing about the studio nights, and he reached out. We're meeting at the café on Hayes."

"Good."

"Yeah?"

"Good. Go. Knock him over."

He kisses me once more — quick, almost chaste — and tightens the strap of my bag over my shoulder, and he steps back.

"You'll tell me about it tonight."

"Yes."

"Suzanne."

"Yes?"

"I'm proud of you."

I leave the apartment with my heart full and aching in the best way.

The café on Hayes is small and good. Old wood. Brass fixtures. A long zinc bar at the back and four tables by the window. He is at the table closest to the window. He stands when I come in.

"Suzanne."

"Hi."

He pulls my chair out and asks me how my morning has been. He asks me how the move is going. He doesn’t pry. He waits for me to settle the bag on the back of the chair, order a coffee, and take the first sip before he opens the leather folder in front of him.

He is the exact right amount of charming.

He walks me through what he is offering. We talk about the three pieces I uploaded yesterday — he has already looked at them, which means he was on the site within hours of me posting. He tells me what he thinks I’m doing well, what he thinks is still emerging, the work I sent over before. The older pieces I did have a quality of patience that he doesn't see in a lot of work by people who are starting now.

"You don't paint to be done with the painting."

"No."

"That is the rarest thing on this list, by the way."

"Thank you."

He smiles.

He treats me like an artist who will keep making art for the next forty years. He treats me like a person whose voice, in his estimation, will get clearer if it is given a year before anybody is allowed to buy it.

I haven’t been treated this way before.

He walks me through the roster. Four artists. Mid-career. Each is placed carefully. Each with one show a year and one residency every two.

"A year?"

"A year."