“It’s been easy here. Not literally, perhaps. In one sense, you’ve been roughing it without air-conditioning or the comforts of home. And some of you got literally lost in the woods.” She winked at me. “But you’ve had very few demands on you. That’s a gift. I’m not trying to pat myself on the back; it’s just a fact. I think most of you have used this time either to nurture a burst of creativity or to rest and recharge. Both are valid, and important.
“But neither is going to be easy to do when you go back to your lives, where you may have day jobs, teaching commitments, shows, exhibitions, and so on. Not to mention families and friends.”
I didn’t have those things. Well, of course I had my mom and sister, but we didn’t see each other that often. My personal life was pretty much limited to hanging with Rory and her family, and they were getting ready to turn inward when the new baby arrived. Which left work. The hustle. The thing that was going to ramp up big-time when I got home. The thing that had always felt so central to my identity.
“My hope for you,” Marion went on, “is that you hang on to some of what being here gave you, whether it’s a sense of creative expansion or merely permission to rest. I hope you can find a way to get some of that in your real life.”
Rest. I should prioritize that when I got home. Have phoneless days.
Maybe I should plant a garden. Put up a hammock. Yes. Both those ideas appealed.
I felt better having made that plan.
Marion approached. “I have to go oversee the tangle that is the parking lot.” She gave me a firm hug. “Between you and me, I wish you were staying. I’m sure Irina Petrov”—Marion had gotten a dancer from the Joffrey Ballet for session two—“will be great, but you really had a way with the kids. You’re a natural teacher.”
I was chuffed by the praise. “Thanks. I’ve had such a wonderful month, but it’s time for me to get back to that—teaching.”
Why wasn’t I more excited?
I was excited about the hammock, I reminded myself, and about my future garden.
“Well,” I said to the assembled artists. “I guess it’s back to reality for me.”
“Reality is overrated,” Caleb said jokingly, and at that moment I couldn’t say I disagreed.
“Yeah,” Danny said, “Reality is for losers. Stay!”
“I can’t. My reality involves closing on a new building next month, and I have a ton to do.”
“Yeah, I know,” Danny said, “you’re our resident entrepreneur.”
Resident entrepreneur.
I guess that was right. Despite my late-in-the-game burst of choreographic creativity, I was going back to my small business. My soon-to-be-larger small business. There would be no leaping out of holes for me. I mean, I had thought about it, but where would I even do it?
I had thought aboutthat, too, and for a moment I thought,Hey, Ijustdecided I should start gardening. What is gardening but digging holes in the ground?
But I gave myself a reality check. Sure, I could work on the piece, but to what end? It wasn’t ever going to get mounted anywhere, even if I didn’t have a full-time job—a more-than-full-time job—sucking up all my time and energy.
It didn’t even seem real, all those hours I’d spent mucking around behind the shower building. From this vantage point, it was starting to feel like a dream I’d woken from and could only remember in fragmented flashes.
Maiv kicked off the rest of the goodbyes by throwing her arms around me. She didn’t say anything, but she was teary, which made me teary, too. Weweregoing to stay in touch, we had already decided, so it wasn’t really goodbye. Caleb reiterated his invitation for us to work on something together, and I deflected. I could see Rory gearing up to ask questions, so I moved on to Danny, who gave me a beautiful vase. Its dark-blue glaze was the same color as the lake at afternoon swim time.
Next up was Jack, who shook my hand and said, “Be good.”
I smiled at him—genuinely. “Good luck with the book. Or are you not supposed to say that? Is it like with plays, where you’re supposed to say, ‘Break a leg’?”
“I’ll take it. I need all the luck I can get.”
“Nah, you don’t need luck. You’ve got what it takes.” Look at me, complimenting Jack Branksome. Maybe I’d even follow in Teddy’s footsteps and read his book when I got home.
And then there was only Teddy left.
“Am I allowed to say that I’m going to miss you?” he asked.
“Of course. I’m going to miss you, too.”
We hugged, but it was awkward—we both moved to the same side and ended up doing a little dance, but not the swaying-in-the-moonlight kind. How was it we’d had the ease oflongtime lovers last night, but here we couldn’t make our limbs cooperate?
