Entry-Level Mistress - By Sabrina Darby Page 0,60
wanted to tell her and there wasn’t anything that I wanted to tell myself. I continued on as if everything were normal, as if this were simply the conversation of a daughter wanting to know more about her origins.
“Would you?”
“I don’t know. Who knows what your father’s reaction would have been if he’d known five years earlier. We can’t change the past anyway.”
“Right.”
“I hate to hear you so sad, baby.” And I equally hated to hear my mom worry about me.
“I’ll get over it,” I said dismissively, quickly moving the conversation away from emotions that I did not want to share with my mother. I’d learned years ago that anything I shared from deep in my heart could and would be used against me in some future conversation. I loved my mom, but I knew the limits of our relationship.
When I finally flipped the cell phone shut, I started unwrapping the box. No matter what happened, not knowing wouldn’t change anything.
Chapter 19
On the Saturday of Labor Day weekend, the first windy hint of the incipient fall tempered the lingering heat. I sat on the wooden bench outside my studio for a brief “lemonade and chat” break with Lila and Lila’s new med school roommate, Taneasha.
As another visitor wandered up the path, I smiled, welcomed her, and gestured past her into the studio, invited her to take one of the artist statements I’d carefully letter-pressed on thick cotton paper. In the weeks that I had been at Barrows Farm, I’d made excellent progress on the mythology project. I wouldn’t start on the actual sculptures for likely a few more weeks, but my studies for the first four pieces hung on the walls of the studio and, combined with the small models carefully arranged around the room, gave a good sense to anyone looking of what I hoped to do with texture, the concept of masks and the stories of gods and goddesses.
“So how long will it take you to complete everything?” Lila asked.
“Longer than five months,” I answered with a laugh. “Hopefully, I can show what I do have somewhere in New York.”
“That can’t be easy,” Taneasha interjected.
“No, but I’ve been lucky and made some great contacts.” Edward Ainsley had surprised me a few days earlier when he’d shown up unannounced at the farm. Even though it hadn’t been a day open to the public, he’d stayed for dinner, mingled with everyone. He’d grilled me about my future as well, intimated that he’d liked what he saw and would be happy to act as something of a mentor for me.
It had been a bittersweet triumph because all I could think about the whole time Ainsley visited were those few days in the Hamptons. I’d come to think of that weekend as The Idyll Before the Storm and I saw it in a wash of pastel colors with short brush strokes, as a seaside resort with clouds on the horizons. It was easy to lose myself in those thoughts, to linger on the beauty of Daniel’s naked body, on the tenderness of his touch. In my mind there was a fantasy of what could have been, what might have been, if he hadn’t made the game we had played real.
It was even harder to not think of Daniel when Ainsley mentioned running into him at the opening for the Picasso and the Future exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts. Ainsley’s expression had been sympathetic, as if he knew about the breakup—surely everyone did—but he wanted me to know I had his support.
I would very likely need that support. I would need to make a successful life for myself as soon as possible after leaving Barrows Farm. I could no longer live off murals and CD cover art.
The bright sunlight turned to afternoon shadows and eventually we all stood. Lila hugged me tightly.
“Well, I know it’s selfish of me, but I can’t wait until you move to the city.”
“Hah,” I said with a laugh, stepping back. “You’ll be way too busy with all your classes.”
“It’s pretty intense already,” Taneasha agreed.
“But I wouldn’t have missed this! You’re so talented. I had no idea.”
My friendship with Lila was another one of the many positive outcomes of the summer affair. In fact, as time passed, I found it more difficult to hold onto anger. Sadness, longing, all those wistful emotions remained, but my relationship with Daniel had changed me irrevocably. For the most part, I liked this new version of myself.
And slowly, I was coming