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The gallery doors have been open for nearly two hours. As promised, in attendance are many influential people from the art world, both locally and nationally—buyers, sellers, dealers, and individuals—looking to commission pieces by up-and-coming artists.
“Congratulations,” I tell Wolfgang, wrapping my arms around him. “A buyer and a new commission! That’s impressive.”
“Thanks,” he responds, clinking his champagne glass with mine. “I’m kind of in shock.”
“Why? Your piece is spectacular. I’m not surprised one bit, and I couldn’t be happier for you.” I sip the crisp liquid from my flute. “However, if you don’t want to do it, I’d gladly take the work off your hands.”
“You’re such an opportunist.”
“It’s a dog-eat-dog world, Wolfie. You’d better get ready for the wolves because it’s gonna be a fight.”
“Is this part of your business teachings?”
“Possibly. I’ll send you a handbook on the rats in the industry.”
It’s been nearly a week since reality took on a new meaning at brunch with my parents, Foster, and his family. It took me a few days to come to terms with what had happened, who Foster was, and what I truly wanted. Having a free choice for the first time in my life was new territory, and I wasn’t sure how to focus, but soon, my decision and direction became clear—once I let myself see beyond all the barriers.
Like second nature, I emerged myself into my art as a means to reveal my desires, and it helped in more ways than I’d expected. I enlisted Wolfgang’s help in making my project come to life because it was nearly impossible to cast my own body, and Chandra was on vacation with Jeremy for the break.
Wolfgang was also a supportive ear, allowing me to vent all of the untold truths about my family, Foster, and myself. I revealed a part of myself, often held in secret, and the physical act of creating something new helped me to truly know what was in my heart without any obstacles. The product of this process was also able to impress Professor Turner enough to land me a coveted space in his show.
He called my piece “a vehement beauty.”
Being at this event is truly an opportunity of a lifetime for many, including myself. Earlier in the evening, I was approached to create a piece to be displayed in a well-known aquarium. I’m truly honored.
Mid sip of my drink, I’m tapped on the shoulder.
I turn around.
My mother and father have genuine smiles plastered across their faces while they stand side by side as a pillar of properness with their coats in hand.
“We need to get going,” my father states, looking at his timepiece. “We have a plane to catch, but we wanted to say good-bye first.”
“I really appreciate you coming,” I say wholeheartedly. “I know it wasn’t on your schedule.”
“Thank you for inviting us,” my mother adds. “We wouldn’t have missed it. There are a lot of really wonderful pieces here tonight.”
I’m unsure if she’s being polite or honest, but either way, she’s making an effort.
When they were last in town, we parted with a bit of unease, but there was a sense of hope.
It was Wolfgang’s suggestion that I extend an invitation for them to come even though they were on vacation, but I didn’t expect them to attend. Their presence is an encouraging surprise, and deep in my heart, it’s a welcomed one. It’s a first step. For possibly the first time in my life, they’re showing an interest in something that truly matters to me, and it has no benefit to them, other than knowing that it makes me happy.
“Have a safe trip,” I say, hugging my father and then my mother.
She kisses me on the cheek.
“Congratulations,” my father says for possibly the fourth time this evening. “You’ve done very well. We’ll talk to you soon.”
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, EJ,” my mother adds. “And it was a pleasure meeting you, Wolfgang.”
“You, too, Mr. and Mrs. C.,” Wolfgang replies, somewhat aloof, causing me to snort.
The look on my mother’s face in response to his informal address is priceless.
“Come on, dear,” my father encourages my mother, taking her by the arm. “It’s time for us to head out.”
We all say one last final farewell, and my parents leave through the crowd of guests. Wolfgang and I wander around the room, studying everyone’s work one more time, discussing what we think the artist is trying to convey and the execution. We’re both on our second glass of champagne, so our observations aren’t very technical at this point.
