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It was Saturday night already, and I stood in the bathroom at the gallery, gazing at my reflection in the full-length mirror.
I’d been here all day, too busy to think about the evening ahead. Too focused on the gazillion tiny details, to think about anything else. This was the first chance I had for any time to spare, and I used it to get changed.
Thank God for makeup. Heavy-duty concealer covered the shadows under my eyes, while bronzing powder make me looked tanned and healthy. I tied my hair back in a smooth ponytail, and combined with the neutral clothes I wore, I almost didn’t recognise myself. The me that stared back from the mirror looked bright and intelligent. She wore a black long-sleeved jersey dress, sheer black nylons, and flat ballet slippers. A silk scarf draped loosely around her throat.
I touched the scarf, bought from a market stall. It was me, in a different shell. I felt as though I was playing dress-up or acting a part. The concept of standing in front of strangers while they examined my work made me want to throw up. Perhaps I could lurk in the office and not have to listen to them? What if they hated my art? It would destroy my confidence like nothing else.
Someone knocked on the door. “You okay, Steph?” It was Elizabeth. “The first people have arrived.”
Shit. I couldn’t do this. I gripped the edge of the basin and sucked in a deep breath. I felt hot and cold at the same time, and fear roared in my ears. My pulse spiked at the thought of leaving this little sanctuary. I’d tell Elizabeth I was sick.
There was another knock, and then she popped her head around the door. “Oh, Steph. You look stunning.” She walked up to me and put her arm around my shoulders. “Don’t be scared. I know it’s terrifying, but you’ll be fine. Trust me. Your work is amazing. It’s honest and raw and beautiful at the same time.”
“It’s me, out there.” I stumbled over the words. “Each image is a part of me. My thoughts. My feelings. It’s as though they’re slices of my mind.”
“And that’s what makes it so compelling. Now take a deep breath and walk out with me. They won’t bite; I promise. There are some flowers here for you as well. They were delivered earlier, but I only just saw them.”
“Flowers? Who from?”
“Hold on, and I’ll fetch them.”
She disappeared, and I stared at the mirror some more. I should be wearing one of my hippy skirts and a dozen sparkling bangles on each arm. That was the real me.
“Here.” Elizabeth reappeared and held out a huge basket arrangement. Tiny pink roses jostled for space with sweet peas and baby’s breath. Sweet peas in a formal flower arrangement? I opened the envelope and slid out the card inside.
Good luck tonight. I’ll be thinking of you. Dean
My jaw dropped. The first communication from him in days, and it came on a bouquet of flowers? My phone. I hadn’t checked it all day. I grabbed my bag and found the phone at the bottom. There was a missed call from Dean this morning, a text message from him, and a voicemail too. I scanned the brief text.
Sorry. I got caught up in something. Hope to see you soon.
I typed the code to pick up the voice message. I was hungry to hear his voice.
“Hey.” The timbre sent a shiver through me. “I know I said I’d be there tonight, but I don’t think I can make it. I’m really sorry.” He sighed. “I know you’re gonna be great. I’ve got faith in you, little sandy girl. Talk soon.”
Disappointment slammed into me. I hoped he’d be here tonight. He promised he would.
At least he’d apologised, and not left me hanging. It nagged at me that I didn’t know why he’d gone racing up to Auckland or what the something was that took all his attention, but I couldn’t fret about it now.
Focus on the positives, Steph. He’d been in touch. He sent me beautiful flowers. He hoped to see me soon. And he had faith in me.
It was time to have faith in myself.
Elizabeth stood watching me, a warm smile on her face.
“Let’s do this,” I said.
Oh my God. So many people. When I saw the crowd inside the gallery, my first instinct was to flee back to the bathroom. I froze in the doorway, and Elizabeth had to give me a little push, to get me moving.
“Just go and mingle for now,” she murmured. “Pretend you’re a visitor, and you’re seeing these for the first time. We’ll do speeches later, when the canapes come out.”
I forced my feet to move, to carry me forward, but then I ducked into the side room, rather than the main gallery. My beach landscapes looked incredible, blown up onto large canvases. Two elderly women gazed at them, their heads close together as they spoke. They looked animated, gesturing with their hands, their smiles wide.
A man stood on his own, staring intently at the top canvas. I recognised him.
“Hi, Sam.” I stepped to his side, and he glanced at me.
“Congratulations. This is amazing. How does it feel, to see your work on all the walls?”
I shrugged. “Weird. Good. Scary.”
His lips tugged up at the corners in the start of a smile, but it faded away again. “This is my house.” He gestured to a secluded cottage nestled in the dunes. “Did you know that?”
“What? No.” I looked at the print and remembered the first time I saw that stretch of the beach. “It’s in a wonderful location. Is it one you rent out?”
“No. I live in that one.” He sounded distracted. “When did you take these pictures?”
Elizabeth called my name from the other room, and I paused before I answered Sam. “Uh, a few weeks ago. I only moved here recently. Why?”
He leaned forward and pointed to a lone figure standing at the edge of the beach. She stood facing away from the camera, a slender woman with long hair tumbling down her back. “She looks like my wife.”
It’s complicated, he’d said, when I asked if he was married.
I needed to move. Elizabeth was looking for me, but I was worried at the shocked look on Sam’s face. “Would that be a problem? If it was your wife?”
“Yes. I thought she was gone.” He spoke as though he was thinking aloud, and then shook his head. “Ignore me.” He turned to face me. “You’re very talented, Steph. I’m blown away by your work, and I’m going to buy this series. Good luck with the rest of the exhibition.”
“Thank you.” There was no time to ask what he meant about his wife. He was heading to the sales desk, his place taken by three strangers who’d entered the room.
I straightened my shoulders, smoothed the length of my pony tail, and walked into the main gallery.
The air buzzed with low chatter, drowning out the seagull calls and the wave noise on the sound system. Everyone clutched glasses of complimentary bubbly, and most had several postcards in their hands too.
They liked it. They really liked it.
I did as Elizabeth suggested, and mingled, anonymous and invisible. I snagged a glass of orange juice and followed the crowd from one image to the next. It still seemed unreal. This was my mood diary, displayed in giant form on the walls—everything from despair to happiness, and all the spaces in between. Many displayed a discreet orange sticker that indicated they’d been sold.
Was this a dream? I’d wake up in my little bedroom and find out it was still Friday.
“Steph.”
I spun on my toes and saw Lou with Tane and a whole bunch of people I didn’t recognize.
“It’s amazing,” said my friend, throwing her arms around me. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you. You’re not just saying that, right?”
“Look at all the Sold stickers, and then ask me that again.”
I had to laugh, happiness spilling out of me. “Thank you.”
“Where’s King?” she asked.
“In the office. He’s been here with me all day. Elizabeth said he could come out later, when we do some speeches.”
“What about Dean? Is he still on your shitlist? I brought Tane, in case you need him to throw some punches tonight.”
My smile dimmed. “He couldn’t make it, but he did apologise. And he sent flowers.”
Her face fell. “Damn. I’m sorry. Is Tane off the hook, then?”
“Hey, cuz. I’m standing right here,” Tane said, his soft voice lilting.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “You don’t need to punch anyone tonight, but thank you for offering.”
“Any time, girl.” He gave me a bone-creaking hug and followed it up with a fist bump. “You’re adopted family now, y’know. I’m your almost-cousin. One of ’em.”
“Welcome to the fam,” said one of the guys behind Lou. He solemnly shook my hand. They introduced themselves, but my head was spinning with so many names.
I’d love to stay with them longer, but Elizabeth beckoned me to the front. It was speech time.
She kept her spiel brief, and true to her word, whistled King to join us. He featured in several of the images, so it was a lovely gesture. I said a few words, thanked lots of people for making the exhibition happen, and dedicated it to the memory of my best friend, Marnie. There was no time for sadness. I was bombarded with questions and people wanting to talk about my art and how it affected them.
The evening flew by. I saw Zack with Holly, and Jasper with Caitlin. They all spoke to me and congratulated me. For once, it didn’t hurt to see Zack with someone else.
So many people were here—more than I could have ever imagined. But one was missing.
I kept one eye on the entrance all night. Just in case Dean came after all.
At ten o’clock, Elizabeth announced it was time to close.
At half past ten, she shooed the last visitors out.
He didn’t make it.