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Itismy family who Nell saw: my mother, David, Nicky, and Matt. They look slightly bewildered, like tourists who’ve been out sightseeing all day and now can’t find their way back to the hotel. After offering what must be the most pathetic smile in the world, I get quick hellos and hugs from everyone. The one from my mother feels clunky, like we’re old acquaintances who are stumped by exactly how to greet each other.
“They’re not letting people in yet?” Nicky asks. She’s in a bright red coat I’ve never seen before, with her butter-blond hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. “Is that why you wanted us to wait out here?”
She’s no sooner finished speaking when two men approach the gallery, swing open the door, and step inside.
“No, it’s not that,” I say. I indicate with a few awkward hand gestures that we should move down the street, away from the door. “They had to cancel my part of the show tonight. It-It’s not happening.”
“It’s nothappening?” my mother exclaims, rearing back a little. She’s wearing a nondescript dark brown coat, and the only effort she appears to have made in terms of makeup is a swipe of mauve lipstick. “Why in the world not?”
“Some of my pieces got damaged.” I can feel a sob fighting its way up my throat. “And there’s no way they can be displayed tonight.”
“Oh my god, Skyler, that’s awful,” Nicky exclaims, pulling me into another hug.
“And the gallery just noticed the problem now?” my mother asks. She’s always had an internal alert system for bullshit, and it’s clearly going off.
“Yes, because it happened only a little while ago. The collages were put up last night and someone came in this afternoon and vandalized them when no one was looking.”
“Jesus Christ,” David says, sweeping a hand through his thick gray hair. “Is the gallery going to take responsibility?”
“Yes, of course. They’re really upset, too.”
“But why would someonedothat?” my mother asks. “Is your stuff hugely controversial?”
“No, it’s not controversial, Mom,” I say. I have to fight to stop my jaw from quivering. “Someone did it just to be mean and horrible.”
“Nicky’s right, this isawful,” my brother-in-law says. For the first time, I focus a little on him. He’s wearing a trench coat over his shirt and chinos, and he looks like a solid wall of khaki. “Can we do anything?”
“There’s really nothing to do tonight,” I tell them. “They have to go ahead with the reception for the other artist—the photographer—but the gallery owner and I are going to talk tomorrow.”
“Can your work be repaired?” Nicky asks.
“I don’t really know. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”
My mother sighs. “I feel bad for you, but why have I got the feeling there’s more to this than you’re letting on?”
“You think I’m making this up?”
“Not making it up, no, but it doesn’t seem like we’re getting the full story. Why do we always have to pry information out of you?”
“Mom,” I say, nearly pleading, “Iambeing straight. I only found out about this a few minutes ago, and all I know is that my collages are ruined.”
“Look,” David says. He’s using a soothing tone, as if trying to keep things from unraveling even more. “Why don’t we all go someplace and get a drink?”
“Yes, please,” Nicky says. “Is there a café around here, Sky? Or a little restaurant?”
I’m about to suggest a place I’ve noticed nearby, until I catch sight of my mother’s face and see her staring blankly across the street. I wait a moment for her to add something, to announce,Yes, we all need to sit down and deal with this as a family, but her lips stay pinched together.
“Thanks, but I think I better go home,” I tell them. “I’m so sorry you had to drive all this way for nothing.”
I turn to leave, to flee, really.
“Sky, wait,” Nicky calls out. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes, I just need to get over the shock. Thanks for coming.” I glance at my mother again, whose arms are now folded across her chest. “And thanks for the flowers, Mom.”
Her expression suddenly shifts to perplexed as she processes my words. She doesn’t know what I mean, I realize. It was Nicky who sent the flowers, not her.
I turn on my heel and take off without another word, moving north, walking fast. It’s only after I see a few passersby glance in my direction that I realize there are tears streaming down my cheeks. Someone is trying to ruin my life, and there’s not a soul in the world who can help me.
