by Lori L. Otto
“Really, Kiersten, there’s nothing to be jealous about–”
“I am not jealous!” she interrupts forcefully.
“Okay,” I say quietly, trying to smooth things over. “But I can’t not ever see her again. We’ve been friends for years. I hope we’ll be friends for many more...”
“But don’t you like being with me?”
“I do,” I tell her. And I do like being with her. “You shouldn’t see her as a threat.”
“I’m not saying she is... and I’m not telling you not to talk to her anymore...” she starts.
“Good, because–”
“I’m asking you not to, that’s all. Just for now... just for me...”
“Kiersten,” I retort. “Please, understand–”
“No, Nathaniel, hear me out.” She pauses, expecting me to cut in, but I don’t. I want to hear her out. “I’ve been in some bad relationships. A lot of men in my life have treated me badly. I know I seem like a confident woman to you, but in this setting, in a relationship like this, this early on... I don’t.. trust... like I should.
“I’m not saying you’ll never get to see her again. This is just so new. Can you just give me some time, some time to adjust to this relationship, some time to build a little more trust with you? Can’t you give me that?”
I’m not sure I can, but I think about it carefully. As we do the dishes, she gives me some space, some time to consider what she’s asked. I can tell she’s not doing this to be selfish. It’s obvious she just wants both of us to focus on us right now. And I can’t really blame her.
After all, wouldn’t this be the perfect opportunity to work on filing Emi away as only a friend? If I distanced myself from her a little more, it would make it so much easier.
“Just try?” she asks, her hands behind her back as she leans against the kitchen counter.
“I’ll try,” I promise. I need to get my feelings in order, once and for all. I want to learn how to separate those feelings for Emi from my feelings of love for other women; possibly for Kiersten, in particular. I put my hands on the countertop on either side of her hips, my mouth meeting hers for full, deep kisses. We don’t leave the kitchen until well into the night, when we’re both exhausted and needing of a restful night’s sleep.
CHAPTER 10
It’s a few weeks before Kate calls me. I’ve never heard her so animated.
“My plane literally just landed, Nate,” she says with excitement. “We need to talk.”
“Right, okay... now?”
“No,” she says. “I want you to meet me at the corner of 8th and 51st in an hour.”
“Alright,” I say, my interest piqued.
“Look nice,” she suggests. “Fix your hair, at least. You’re meeting your client.”
“What?” I ask, suddenly nervous.
“You heard me. It’s too good, Nate. You won’t say no.”
“That’s no pressure,” I retort.
“I’ll see you in an hour,” she says, smug and confident.
I take a shower and try to find something appropriate to wear. I choose some clean jeans and a white button-down shirt. I pull out a tie, and knot it loosely. I purposefully leave the shirt untucked. Nice, but not too nice. I run my fingers through my wet hair. There’s really no point in doing anything to it. It always looks the same.
An hour later, I’m standing on the corner of 8th and 51st in front of a storefront that’s undergoing some renovations. I shove my hands in my pockets and wait for Kate’s arrival, scanning each taxi as it slows by the curb.
“Nate,” she calls me from the doorway of the storefront. “Come in.” I follow her in, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek. There’s a man standing by an empty bar, about my age, dressed in what looks to be a very expensive suit. “Nate, this is Albert,” she says.
I shake his hand. Firm grip. The sign of a good businessman, or so I’m told.
“Nice to finally meet you, Nate,” he begins.
“Thanks, uh, likewise.”
“You’re probably wondering why you’re here,” he says.
“A little, yeah,” I laugh apprehensively.
“Well... you’re standing in one of my newest ventures. I’m opening three clubs in the next six months. This one, one in LA and one in Vegas.”
“Okay,” I nod.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard of Track? Frontbar? Albie’s?”
“All of them, actually,” I answer, recognizing the names of three of the trendiest spots in New York. “You own those?”
“He does,” Kate says. “And this place will be just as well-known as the others in a few short months.”
“Nate, would you like a drink?” Albert asks.
“Just some water, if you don’t mind.”
Albert fixes a glass of ice water and puts a lime in it. He pours himself a glass of scotch.
“So, I saw your work at the Axiom Gallery in LA,” he continues. “I think your style is perfect for these clubs. I’d like to hire you to do some custom pieces.”
“Did you see any at the Axiom that you liked?”
“All of them, but none of them are large enough,” Albert says. “We want full, wall-sized pieces. And we want each to be a little different. Each club will have a personality of its own. The architecture is different in each location.”
“Wow, okay,” I say, intrigued.
“I want you to come out to LA with me and take a look at the place. That’s the first one that will open... you can get some measurements, some ideas... you can even stay there and work on it, if it moves you. We’d put you up in a nice hotel for your stay.”
“Sounds like a cool project,” I say. “Did you have specific ideas for what you want these pieces to be?”
“Not at all,” he says. “All I ask is that they fit with the architecture and feel of the place. I trust your interpretation. Like I said, I liked every piece of yours that I saw.”
This is a dream job. The opportunity to do large-format pieces of my own design. Very few restrictions. On display in some of the most high-profile clubs in the country. I can’t hide my smile.
“Once you have a good feel for LA, we’ll go to Vegas. I promise to show you a good time.”
“I’m definitely interested.” We discuss how I will be compensated, and it’s clearly a once-in-a-lifetime gig. Kate was right, I can’t turn it down. I wouldn’t. I know it is going to take an inordinate amount of time, concentration, energy... but I can’t wait. Kate has already put together contracts and we all sign.
“Can you be in LA by the first week in September?”
“Sure thing.”
“Well, I’ll be in touch with the arrangements. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Likewise,” I say, eagerly. I shake his hand, and Kate walks me out the door. I pick her up, swinging her in the air as I hug her.
“A million thank yous aren’t enough,” I tell her. “This is what I’ve been waiting for.”
“I knew you’d be excited. This is going to be so good for you.”
“You’re the best. This is amazing.”
“Go tell Emi,” she laughs as she starts to walk back into the club. My smile fades as I turn away from her.
Emi. How I would love to go tell Emi this incredible news. Since Kiersten and I had our conversation, though, I’ve made good on my promise to her. The first week was the hardest. I never found out why Emi came by. She didn’t call or stop by again, presumably leaving the ball in my court, knowing that Marcus would have told me.
Any other time in our lives, it would have been strange to go so long without talking, but since we had been fighting, it felt sort-of... okay... that things just didn’t return to the way they used to be. I assume she feels the same way. It doesn’t make me feel any better or make it any easier, though.
Things are going very well with Kiersten. I am finally able to focus on our relationship, and we are growing stronger as a couple every day. Still, when I let my mind wander to Em
i, those feelings eclipse anything I could hope to feel for anyone else. And for that, I do my best to simply not think about her.
At this moment, though, feeling so happy that I might explode, the only person I think of and want to talk to is Emi. She has been there for me through all the rough times in my career. She stood by my side at numerous gallery openings, when less than ten people would show up– most of them our family members. There was a two-year span when the only thing I sold was a 12” x 12” print. Our high school art teacher bought it.
This is too momentous and my decision is made. I have to talk to her, have to see her. I run to her apartment. I pound on the door like a mad man.
“Emi, open up! Emi, it’s me, Nate! Open up!”
“My god, Nate, what’s wrong?” she answers.
“Hi,” I stammer, taken aback by her simple beauty that I have missed.
“Hi,” she says back, a smile forming on her lips.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her immediately, knowing for weeks– no, months– that would be the first and most important thing to say to her. So many things to be sorry for, but the void I’ve allowed to grow between us is what I’m most sorry for now.
“I know,” she answers softly. “You’ve mentioned that.”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” She opens the door a little wider, and I take advantage of the space and her refreshing welcoming attitude. I burst into her apartment, picking her up and carrying her to the nearby couch. I fall back into it, with her on my lap, hugging her tightly against me. “Took you long enough,” she laughs.
“Are you okay, Nate?” Anna interrupts from Emi’s desk. I hadn’t noticed that we weren’t alone.
“Anna,” I shift Emi slightly, putting a little distance in between our bodies. “I’m sorry to barge in like that.”
“No, we’re just hanging out,” Chris’s girlfriend explains. “Right, Em?” My friend nods, her eyes bright but curious.
“Well, I have something to tell Emi, and I couldn’t wait.”
“Should I go?” Anna asks.
“No, it’s news for everyone.”
“What is it?” Emi grins.
“You won’t believe it, Em.”
“Try me...”
“I’ve been hired to do commissioned work for three huge clubs, in LA, Vegas and here!”
“Oh, wow!” she says, surprised by the news. The smile in her eyes falters slightly, but she regains her composure immediately.
“It’s a six-figure deal, Emi! And they’re owned by the guy who owns Frontbar! The Frontbar! Do you know what kind of people go there?”
“Yes, Nate, Page Six can’t stay away from there!”
“I know! I can’t believe it!”
“Congratulations, I am so happy for you!” She hugs me, holds me close. I keep my arms around her for as long as she lets me. I won’t be the first to let go.
“Thank you, Emi, for everything you’ve done for me,” I whisper in her ear. “It means the world.”
“I’m your biggest fan, Nate. And your first. Don’t forget that.”
“Never.” She pulls away quickly, sitting up straight on the couch and adjusting her disheveled clothes.
“Well, we should go out and celebrate!” She looks at Anna, who nods excitedly.
“Let’s go back to the wine bar,” Chris’s girlfriend suggests. “Do you like the wine bar down the street?” she asks me.
“Um, not really,” I hesitate, putting the breaks on their celebratory plans. Already I’m afraid to tell Kiersten about this meeting. She will be incredibly hurt to know I went to Emi first with this news. Or that I went to her at all.
“He doesn’t really drink,” Emi explains.
“We can go somewhere else,” Anna suggests again.
“Oh, I, uh, can’t,” I tell her. “I’m leaving for LA.”
“When? Now?” Emi asks, her expression confused.
“Like, sometime soon, I think. I’ve got a ton of things to clear up here before I go.” I hate being so vague, and lying to her physically hurts me.
“How long will you be gone?” she asks with a slight whine, like she doesn’t want me to go.
“A couple months, maybe. I go there, and then to Vegas.”
“Seriously? You can’t hang out for just a little while? Let me buy you dinner or something, Nate,” Emi pleads. “If I’m not going to see you for months...” Her voice is sad.
“Emi,” I say quietly, my heart breaking. I glance at Anna who has gotten the hint that we need a little privacy. She concentrates hard on something on Emi’s computer screen. “Can we talk for a minute? Maybe in the hallway?” Lord knows there’s nowhere to be alone in her apartment.
“Yeah, sure. Anna, we’ll be right back.” She stands up slowly, removing herself from the couch.
“What is it?” she asks once we’re in the hall.
“Emi, I’m seeing someone,” I tell her slowly.
“Of course you are,” she says as if the wind has been knocked out of her. Her shoulders slump, her body deflates. She swallows before continuing. She tries to smile. “Who is she?”
“She, uh...” I laugh, although nothing I’m about to tell her is funny. “She’s a lawyer I met in the park last month. Her name is Kiersten.”
“Well, good for you.” She pats my arm awkwardly. “I’m happy for you.”
“She has asked me to not see you.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
I smile sheepishly. The hurt in Emi’s eyes forces my gaze away from hers. “I wish I was... but just for awhile.” As if that makes it any better, any easier for either of us.
“You’re not going to though, right? I mean, who is she to ask that of you?”
“I need to,” I say apologetically. “I like her. I really need to give this a chance. She’s just insecure... she’s been hurt, a lot. She has some trust issues.”
“Well I guess if you’re leaving soon, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to see much of you anyway. I mean, as long as we can talk, I’ll get over it.” She shrugs casually. “We have so much to talk about. But I want to figure this out.”
“That’s just it, Emi. She’s asked me to... I guess... distance myself from you.”
“But we’re just friends,” she searches my eyes for agreement, nodding her head. “Is she going to make you stay away from Chris, and Eric and Jason, too?”
“You know it’s not the same.”
“Why is it not?” she asks, but knows the answer before I have to say it aloud.
“You’re a woman. She doesn’t believe that men and women can be friends.” And I can’t really argue that point. I don’t believe that you and I can really be friends anymore.
“Prove her wrong!” she says angrily.
“Believe me, Em, I tried to do that, I did. But she needs this right now. I need to do this for her. And you’re right, I’ll be really busy anyway, so there will already be that natural distance.”
“No,” she cries in disbelief. “That’s not fair, no. Don’t I get a say?”
“No, Emi,” I answer through the lump in my throat. “Not this time.”
“I can’t believe she’s making you choose!”
“I know,” I whisper, looking down at my hands, afraid to look into her eyes any longer.
“But even worse, I can’t believe you’re doing it. I can’t believe you’re choosing her!”
“Emi, be fair...”
“Fair?” she chokes out. “What is fair at all about this? You’re my best friend. I would never, ever consider any boyfriend more important than you.”
“You don’t know that, Emi. When the right one comes along–”
“The right one wouldn’t ask such a thing of me.”
I have no comeback for this.
“Don’t do this,” she whispers. “Please, don’t, Nate.”
“It’s just temporary,” I remind her, hoping that it’s true.
“You’re leaving when?”
�
��In a few weeks.”
“Maybe she doesn’t have to know,” she suggests.
“Emi,” I plead. “I don’t want to lie to her. Please don’t ask me to do that.”
“I don’t know that I can do this. I mean, we just went nearly three months without talking! Don’t you want to work this out? I mean, what did you come over here for?”
“Of course I want to work it out, Em, but now’s not the time...”
“What, I’m too late? Because I needed space, you wrote me off entirely?”
“Not at all. But I want to respect her wishes. I need to give her this. Now that I know how you feel, I think things will be okay with us.”
“No, they won’t!” she argues. “This is not okay. I will not be okay with this, ever!”
“Please, Emi. Please try. Please do this for me. I have to try to make this work with Kiersten. She makes me happy.”
“And I just make you miserable,” she mumbles.
“No, Emi. It’s not like that at all.”
“How can she make you happy if she’s making you do this?”
“God, Emi, just try to understand this from her side.”
“I don’t want to.” She doesn’t want to, but I can tell from her heavy sigh, her slouched posture, that she knows she has to.
“Thank you,” I whisper in her ear as she holds on tightly to me. “I need to run, Emi.” I can’t bear to do this any longer. I can’t bear to see her so unhappy. Am I sure this is the right thing to do? And who am I doing this for? If this is supposed to make me happy, why do I feel like absolute shit? “I need to tell Mom the news... and Kiersten...”
“Okay,” she swallows hard. “So I was the first?”
“Of course you were,” I say.
“I guess I should feel special...”
“You are. My god, Emi, you are, you know you are.”
“Sure, Nate.” She lets go of me and opens the door to her unit, her eyes intently focused on the floor. Anna is standing a few feet away in the kitchen, pouring three glasses of wine. “Good luck, Nate.” Her eyes meet mine once more, all emotion gone from them. She backs into her apartment.
“Thanks,” I say to her, my eyes lingering, taking in all of her, wondering how long it will be until I see her again. “Bye, Emi.” I turn to walk down the hallway toward the elevator.