“My Nina Marie is different.” Her grandfather’s words wouldn’t return void.
In the midst of being on a marathon run as she chased after success, she still needed to do better with making time for things that brought her joy, outside of Jio.
It was almost as if God heard her cry when she peeped a banner hanging outside a gallery on the corner of 16thSt.
A new exhibit. Her eyes piqued with interest.
Color. Black faces. Bronze sculpture. Nina loved art and she hadn’t had anything to look forward to in so long.
“There,” she said suddenly. “Let’s go there!” she said excitedly.
“The museum?” he asked to be sure before he eased near the curb.
Nina stepped out happily, knowing good and damn well Roberto hated when she did that.
“Call you when I’m done!” she told him before slamming the door. The gallery sat on a quiet street in Tribeca, tucked between a luxury furniture store and a tiny café overflowing with plants. She breathed a sigh of relief as calmness washed all over her once she stepped inside the gallery. It was quiet and there weren’t many people in attendance, which was a plus. The floorswere polished concrete and the walls were freshly painted. The fumes didn’t bother her though. She purchased a ticket for one and began her journey.
There was a champagne bar tucked near the back, a few well-dressed people moving slowly from piece to piece, whispering like they were in church. She was one of those people who spent a crazy amount of time staring at one picture and didn’t like to feel rushed to keep it moving.
Nina exhaled for what felt like the first time in ages. She didn’t have to worry about being late to anything. No one needed her signature on a contract. Nino wasn’t barking. She wasn’t checking her phone for a missed call or text from Jio. For an hour or two, life was on pause and she didn’t have to boggle her mind with who she was dating, why she was still with him, why she went to see Kobie, why her family was disappointed, why Jio was the way he was, why she kept playing with fire and acting surprised when she got burned.
Art didn’t demand answers from her. The only thing it wanted her to do was feel the mood of the artist. All she had to do was release and connect.
She stopped in front of a painting that took up almost an entire wall. A Black woman stood in the center of it, her face turned away from the viewer, her back bare, and her spine was painted in gold. Behind her, a house burned. In front of her, flowers grew from cracked pavement.
Nina stared at it longer than she intended.
Something about it made her throat tighten.
“That one grabs everybody,” a voice said beside her.
Nina turned to see a woman standing next to her was beautiful in an easy, unbothered way. Not overdone or trying too hard. She wore wide-leg trousers, a cropped cream sweater, and gold hoops that brushed her jaw when she moved. Her skin was a deep brown and it glowed. Her hair was pulled back into asleek, low bun. She held a glass of champagne in one hand and a program in the other.
Nina glanced back at the painting. “It’s hard not to stare at it.”
“It makes you feel exposed or is it just me?”
Nina looked at her again.
The woman smiled. “Sorry. I’m Danyelle.”
“Nina.”
Danyelle’s brows lifted a tad but not in the way people usually did after they put two and two together. There was recognition there for sure, but she didn’t act on it. She didn’t widen her eyes or start listing mutual friends or ask aboutMarcelle & Co.
She nodded. “Nice to meet you, Nina.” Her smile lit up the dark room. Good energy was contagious.
“Have you been here before?” Danyelle questioned.
“Surprisingly, no. I was randomly driving by and saw the sign.”
“Welcome in!” Danyelle turned back to the painting.
“Thank you. This is my version of self-care so I’m very happy to be here,” Nina admitted.
“I always say I want to do more peaceful things, then I end up doing brunch and pretending mimosas count as self-care.”
Nina laughed a real laugh which was surprising.
