214 Palmer Street(21)
“Me too. I figured out early on that I wasn’t going to be able to pay my student loans with an art history degree.” He drummed his fingers on the surface of the table. “So what made you choose art history in the first place?”
She looked down at her cup, then sheepishly met his gaze. “In all honesty, it started when I was about fourteen and I first saw the movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”
Phil nodded in understanding. “The part where they’re at the Art Institute of Chicago and Cameron is standing in front of Georges Seurat’s painting, A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte?”
“That’s it,” she said in amazement. When she’d discussed the movie with Kirk he hadn’t even remembered that scene. “I was so taken with the pointillist style. It was like magic to me. When you stand close to the painting it looks like nothing but colored dots. And then when you back up it all comes into view. Absolutely mind-blowing! After I saw the movie I read a biography of Seurat, which got me interested in some of his contemporaries. One thing led to another and I became obsessed with all of it—everything from the Old Masters to modern art. I went through a period where I took some drawing and painting classes, thinking I might have some hidden talent.” She sighed, thinking about that phase in her life.
“And did you?”
“If I did, it was so hidden I couldn’t find it.” She laughed. “My artwork was rubbish, but if anything, that made me admire artists even more. It’s amazing to me that it all starts with an idea in someone’s head and then they manifest it so we can all experience it.”
Phil nodded in agreement. “I always thought pointillism was a metaphor for life. When you’re too close to something, you lack perspective. It’s only once you have some distance that you see things the way they really are.”
“That’s deep,” she said, taking a small sip of her latte.
“So when you first saw Seurat’s painting at the museum, did it live up to your expectations?”
“I’ve never actually seen it in person,” she admitted.
“You’ve never seen A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte?” he asked incredulously. “But Chicago isn’t that far away.”
“I keep meaning to go,” she said, knowing how lame that sounded. “I just haven’t gotten to it yet.”
“We have to rectify that,” he said, leaning back and folding his arms. “If your husband won’t go with you, I’d be happy to be your road trip buddy.”
“Oh, Kirk would take me if I asked him to,” Sarah assured him. “It’s just not his thing, so I wouldn’t ask. If we went, would your husband want to come along?”
“Are you kidding?” Phil snorted. “Only if he had to. Trust me, an art museum isn’t his idea of fun.”
Having found common ground, they grinned at each other. “Your husband sounds like a monster,” Sarah joked. “I say we make him go.”
“I say we leave both the husbands at home,” Phil said. “We don’t need them dragging us down.” He downed the last of his drink and then asked, “So is it a plan? We’re taking a day trip to the Art Institute?”
“Count me in!” she said, her spirits lifting. A line from another movie came into her head just then: I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
FOURTEEN
HER
Everyone does irrational things from time to time. Our emotions get the better of us and we blurt out a rude comment we don’t really mean or dump a bag of dried dog food in the front seat of a cheating boyfriend’s car. (Really, he should have locked the doors.) We’re human beings. Sometimes we go off track in a bad way. Usually, there’s some remorse, and even if that’s not the case, these kinds of things run their course. Sometimes you just have to get it out of your system.
That’s what I thought would happen with Sarah and Kirk. I honestly thought my obsessiveness would run its course. That’s not what happened.
Instead, I went from my interest in him to becoming emotionally entangled in his wife’s life. Why was she still working when they were so obviously wealthy? The other couples in their league ran charitable foundations or worked in the family business. Sarah’s mundane job, doing marketing for a small landscaping firm, was the kind that kept people buying lottery tickets. From what I could tell she thrived at her job, but besides lunching with the other office ladies she didn’t socialize with anyone but Kirk.
Odd.
When they visited a bistro on Saturday mornings I’d get a table on the other side of the decorative barrier. Out of sight but within earshot. Their conversations were light, discussing buying new patio furniture, what movies they wanted to see, plans for his mother’s birthday. To the casual listener their discussions might even seem pleasant but uninteresting. I, however, could see the subtext. Kirk steered the ship. What sounded like a conversation was actually him overriding her ideas and getting her to go along with what he wanted. They traveled to his chosen destinations, ate at the restaurants he decided upon, and went to see the movies of his choosing. She always went along with whatever he wanted. Why? Was she afraid of him or just agreeable?
I feared the worst.