What Harper believed to be reciprocation from Sarah, her mind had turned into doubt over the weekend, and she’d driven herself crazy. Half the time her stomach twisted in fear, and the other, it flipped in excitement. She couldn’t stand the assault any longer. She had to see her. Had to talk to Sarah and find out what she was thinking.
Relief washed over her when Sarah finally showed up after what seemed like hours. She looked from side to side as she approached.
“What happened to you Friday?” Harper asked impatiently.
“I wanted to go home.”
“Did what happened upset you?”
Sarah met Harper’s gaze, and she shook her head. Harper let out a sigh of relief.
“I wouldn’t kiss Tyler after that,” she said, for some reason needing Sarah to know it.
“So, you weren’t just drunk…when we…you know?” Sarah looked doubtful, and Harper found her adorable.
“No.” She shook her head. “I wanted to do it. I liked it.”
“I…” She looked down at her feet. “It was wrong what we did.”
Harper’s heart fell into her stomach. “What do you mean?”
“What we did,” Sarah said again, her eyes still downcast. “It’s wrong.”
“Why?” Harper moved her hand to Sarah’s cheek, forcing her to meet her wounded expression. “Why is it wrong?”
“I’m not supposed to like you like this.”
“But you do?” Harper’s pulse quickened again.
“I’m not supposed to though.”
Harper shook her head. She wouldn’t let Sarah talk herself out of this, not if she had the same feelings she did. “Sarah, when I kissed you,” she began hesitantly, “it felt right. Didn’t you feel it? I don’t feel that way when Tyler kisses me. It feels wrong when he does. But this…” She took Sarah’s hand and closed it between hers. “This feels right. How can something that feels so right possibly be wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did it feel wrong at the time?”
“No, I guess it didn’t. It felt really good actually.” A small smile curved on her lips.
“It did.” Harper returned her smile. “I would like to spend more time with you. Get to know you better.”
Sarah looked at her hand, still clasped warmly, affectionately, in Harper’s.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve never felt this way before.”
Sarah’s words moved through her. “Let’s just spend some time together and see what happens.”
“At parties?” There was hesitation in Sarah’s voice.
“No.” Harper shook her head. “Not with all those people. Not when Tyler’s there. I want to see you alone.”
Sarah searched her eyes for a moment. “We could go to the gallery,” she said.
Harper latched onto the idea. “When?”
“Whenever you want.”
“This weekend,” Harper said quickly, “and it can’t come soon enough.”
Sarah allowed her smile to show fully now. “No, it can’t.”
* * *
The AGO was packed that Saturday. The colder weather seemed to bring out the culture in people, and they shuffled in wearing leather jackets and trench coats, scarves around their necks, and gloves or mittens on their hands. Harper turned around, taking in the expansive gift shop and vaulted ceilings. She should do things like this more often. She was getting older now, and maybe it was time she did more than just get drunk at parties and have sleepovers with her friends. Frank Gehry’s glass addition certainly was something to behold, and more than anything she wanted Sarah to arrive so that she could share it with her.
She waited for Sarah just inside the doors, a knot in her stomach in anticipation for her date. It’s not a date. Still, that couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. This was the first time she would see Sarah without anyone else from school around. Every time she’d thought about it throughout the week, she got a little giddy. She couldn’t remember being as excited for anything since Christmas as a kid, before her dad had too many scotches and told her she was too old to believe in Santa, and that they wouldn’t be celebrating anymore because they didn’t have the time to put up decorations.
Sarah walked in the door, and her presence moved through Harper’s body. Everything else around her faded into the background. The whole world stopped, and when Sarah looked at her from across the room, it was as if the floor became quicksand, and everything keeping them apart dissolved until they came together, and the space between them disappeared.
“Hi,” Sarah said. Suddenly, all of the sights and sounds around her came back into focus.
“You made it.”
“Yeah.” Sarah smiled. God, there was nothing Harper liked more than that smile. “Have you looked around?”
“No, I was waiting for you.”
“Okay.” Sarah unzipped her coat and loosened the black scarf around her neck. “I guess we need my membership to get in anyway.” She pulled it from her pocket. “Ready?”
“Definitely.”
Sarah showed her card at the door, and they were handed pamphlets on the current exhibit.
“Did you want to purchase the extra admission for forty dollars?” the woman behind the counter asked.
“It’s Francis Bacon,” Sarah said, almost breathlessly.
There was no mistaking the excitement in Sarah’s eyes, but the name meant nothing to Harper. “Do you know her?”
Sarah laughed. “Francis Bacon is a guy.”
“Oh.”
“He’s one of my favourite artists.”
Harper smiled and didn’t hesitate to pull two twenty dollar bills from her wallet.
“That’s a lot of money,” Sarah whispered from beside her. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Sarah didn’t say anything else as Harper paid and received the receipts for their exhibit purchase, but as soon as they crossed the barrier into the heart of the gallery, Sarah pulled on the sleeve of her leather jacket. “This means a lot to me.”
The sincerity in Sarah’s eyes took Harper’s breath away. How something so simple could touch Sarah so deeply resonated in Harper’s heart. “I want you to have the best day you’ve ever had here.”
“I already am.” Those simple words had Harper walking on clouds as she followed Sarah into the first room. She stopped in front of a painting that looked like speckles of autumn. It was like an abstract painting meeting a landscape, and even for someone who wasn’t an art aficionado, it was quite beautiful. “Do you know the Group of Seven?” Sarah asked, looking back at Harper.
“Yeah, they’re Canadian, right?”
“Yeah, they’re also all from around here.”
“Really?”
“Pretty much. Most of them taught at OCAD.”
“What’s OCAD?”
Sarah’s smile fell slightly. “The Ontario College of Art and Design. It’s actually a university now. It’s the best art school in Canada. I want to go there.”
“Cool.” Harper grinned at the idea of Sarah in art school. “Where is it?”
“Across the street.”
“What? Really?” She looked back, but they were too far from the main doors now to see outside.
“It’s on this side.” Sarah pointed to their left, as if seeing through the wall. “There’s two buildings right across from each other. Did you see the big building that looked like a chessboard standing on top of giant pencil crayons?”
Harper laughed. “Yeah, that was a cool building.”
“That’s the newest addition. It was modeled off another building in the States.”
“How do you know so much about it?”
“Cause I’ve wanted to go there for, like, ever.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Do you know where you want to go to university?”
Harper paused. “Isn’t it a little early for that?” She hadn’t given it
a single thought.
“I guess.” Sarah walked down a few paintings, and Harper followed. This time she stopped in front of a soft looking, snowy mountain. “This is Lawren Harris. He’s one of my favourites. The last one was Tom Thomson. He died mysteriously one night in Algonquin Park,” Sarah said with a teasing raise of her eyebrow.
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s a cool story actually.”
Sarah moved to keep walking, but Harper grabbed her arm. “Tell me.”
“You sure you want to know?”
Harper laughed. “Why, is it going to scare me?”
“No.” Sarah returned her smile. “But it’s long.”
“Tell me while we walk around then.” Harper had her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, and she popped her elbow out invitingly. Sarah looked at her arm, then into Harper’s eyes questioningly, and slowly laced her arm through the loop Harper made with her elbow. Harper warmed at the contact. “So, tell me what happened to old Tom Thomson.”
Sarah took the lead, guiding them from room to room, interrupting her story only to relate anecdotes or information on other paintings as they passed them. It was incredible how much Sarah knew about art. She was in her element, and it was an amazing thing to watch her come alive more and more as they worked their way deeper into the gallery. Harper had never really given much thought to art or artists, but being there with Sarah, seeing it through her eyes, made it truly beautiful.
When they reached the doorway of the Francis Bacon exhibit, Sarah stopped and turned to Harper.
“I have to warn you,” she said seriously. “When we go in there, I am going to turn into a gushing, fawning fool.”
The idea made Harper smirk. “I can’t wait to see it,” she told her earnestly.
“Okay, but I warned you.” Sarah surprised her by putting her arm back through hers.
Harper grinned and handed their ticket receipts to the lady at the front, who handed them each a radio pack with a single earphone.
“It starts at painting one and goes through the rooms,” the older woman explained. “Have fun, dears.”
“Here you go, dear,” Harper joked as she handed Sarah her radio and headphones.
“Thank you, dear,” Sarah quipped in turn, and accepted the accessories. “I don’t think I’ll use it though.”
“Why not?”
Sarah’s smile brightened. “I already know, like, everything about him. He’s my favourite artist, remember?”
“One of them,” Harper corrected. “That’s what you said.”
“You were listening.” Sarah’s eyes softened. “I can tell you about him, if you like.”
Harper took Sarah’s radio and hers back to the front and dropped them back in the bin, then returned quickly to Sarah’s side. “I’d love to hear it from the expert.”
“Hardly.” Sarah laughed self-consciously. “But I’ll try to give you your money’s worth.”
“Seeing you like this, right now, you already have.”
The look that swept over Sarah’s features was so sincere that Harper had to turn away. When she shifted her gaze to the wall, she was somewhat horrified by what she saw. The painting was literally quite shocking. “Oh my God,” she breathed.
“Yeah.” Sarah made a mask of her features again, picking up her didactic tone from before. “He’s pretty dark.”
“Uh, that’s an understatement. Was he crazy or something?”
Sarah tilted her head to the side. “I don’t know. What makes someone crazy?”
“Painting shit like this.”
Sarah scrunched up her forehead, but it was playful. “Let me tell you a little about him, and then you can tell me if you think he was crazy or not.”
“Okay, but something tells me I’m going to have nightmares after this.”
“The first time I saw his art, I had nightmares. That was just in books though. I can’t believe we’re here. That I’m really seeing this.” She turned to Harper, and the mask slipped again for a second. “Thank you.”
Harper swallowed. Seeing Sarah so raw was too much. She hadn’t anticipated how much any of this would mean to her. For Harper, she’d just wanted to see Sarah. She couldn’t have foreseen how much she would learn about her just from watching her absorb their surroundings.
“I’m glad you could see this.” She said sincerely, then pretended to look around in confusion. “I paid good money for a tour. Do you know when it starts?”
Sarah pushed her shoulder playfully, and began walking ahead of her. “Francis Bacon was born in the early twentieth century to an Irish family in England.”
Harper listened to Sarah the whole way through the exhibit, but she wouldn’t have been able to repeat a single word of what Sarah was trying to teach her. Sure, she’d wanted to hear Sarah speak about one of her favourite artists, but she couldn’t look away from Sarah long enough to really take in any of the paintings on the wall. When she thought Sarah could feel her staring, she would turn her head toward the work she was speaking about, or nod her head as if she understood the lesson, but all she could think about was how Sarah was glowing.
Sarah became energetic and lively when she explained the style of the brushstrokes and the influences on the artist. She was enthusiastic as she described the media used in each piece of work, and Harper enjoyed seeing her shine in front of the canvases, but it wasn’t until they reached the portrait of a man that Sarah’s words really caught her attention.
“This is George Dyer. They met when George here broke into Bacon’s apartment, and Bacon caught him in the act. He became his lover, and soon after the fixture for most of his later work.”
“Whoa, wait.” There was a jolt in Harper’s stomach. “He was gay?”
“Y-yes.”
“Wow.” Okay, that hadn’t been the coolest response, but Sarah’s favourite artist was gay? Harper’s heart sped up. If she could be okay with him, then maybe… She had to stop her own thoughts there. She liked Sarah, but that word, gay, for three letters, it suddenly seemed so big, so ominous, and she couldn’t bring herself to attach it to her own feelings.
“Harper, are—”
“Sorry, yeah, go on.”
Sarah walked from that painting to the triptych beside it, and rushed over the meaning behind the piece, but Harper’s head was still whirling. When they reached the end of the exhibit, Sarah led them to the next room that housed Canadian First Nations and Inuit art. She stopped them in front of a gigantic totem pole.
“This was carved by Emily Carr. She was an honorary member of the Group of Seven. The only female in the group.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah, but her stuff is really different from theirs. Kind of doesn’t really fit in with the group’s style. Oh, I love these.” Sarah rushed over to some limestone carvings behind a glass display.
“What are they?”
“Inukshuks.”
“Inuk-whats?”
Sarah gave her a spirited smile of disapproval. “They were used by Native tribes to mark trails and hunting grounds. I don’t know why, but I just love them.”
Warmth grew in her heart at seeing Sarah talk about something she loved so much, and it hit her then just how smitten she was.
“Sorry, I’m talking way too much.” Sarah averted her gaze.
“No, I could listen to you talk all day,” Harper confessed. She wanted to tell Sarah how she was feeling, but struggled to find the right words. “Somehow, you and the art, you make each other even more beautiful.”
“Harper,” Sarah said her name shyly, a deep crimson rising from her neck into her cheeks.
“I think it’s amazing how much you know about all of this. How passionate you are.”
“Do you have something like this?” she asked. Was that pity in her voice? “Is there anything that, no matter what you’re going through, just makes you feel better?”
“Being with you,” Harper said the first thing that came to her mind.
For a mome
nt, Sarah just stood there, and Harper was sure she’d said the wrong thing, until Sarah tilted her head at her questioningly, as if contemplating a deep thought, then moved quickly to her and planted a swift, chaste kiss on her cheek. She separated from her hurriedly before whispering, “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Harper took a step toward her and lowered her voice. “You’re so beautiful, Sarah. This place makes you come alive. If everyone could see you now, they’d see you the way I see you.”
“I don’t think anyone sees me the way you do.” Sarah’s voice was quiet. “I don’t even see me the way you see me.”
“Then I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.” She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind Sarah’s ear, her body humming from the contact. “If you’d stop judging yourself and just let yourself be who you are, you’d see how amazing that person is.”
“Thank you.” Sarah swallowed slowly. “Come on. There’s a few more rooms I want to show you.”
* * *
It was cold and dark outside when they left the art gallery. Fall was slipping into winter, and it might be time for Harper to retire her black leather jacket until the spring. It was busy outside the gallery, and Harper looked around for an idea of where to go next. She didn’t want the day to end. Away from school and her peers, Sarah was a different person, and Harper felt like a different person just being around her.
“Where to next?” she asked.
“Oh, um, I kind of have to get home.”
Harper wanted to argue, but she didn’t want to push her. If Sarah got in trouble with her parents, then she might not be allowed out with her again, so she followed Sarah down the TTC stairs to the subway.
“I could come over to your house,” she suggested. They took seats near the back of the subway.
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