Impossible Page 0,61
was going to a black-tie dinner, given by important clients. They had bought a Monet from her that summer, and she had accepted the invitation weeks before. Taking him with her to a formal dinner at a client's house was an experiment she was not prepared to venture yet, which he said he understood, but he looked annoyed nonetheless. All she had said to him was that she was not allowed to bring a guest.
“Then tell them you can't come,” he said, looking petulant, which she purposely ignored.
“I can't do that, Liam. They're the most important clients I have.” She was sincere about that.
“And what am I?”
“The man I love. But don't bring this to a showdown. You're talking about my work.”
“Would you have taken Arthur?” he asked bluntly. They both knew she would have. But everything about that situation was different. Arthur could have gone anywhere, and did. Liam couldn't. He didn't want to play the game. And Arthur acted like an adult. Liam didn't.
“That's not fair,” she said, looking unhappy. “We were married. He was as proper and conservative as my clients. He was a banker, for God's sake.”
“And I'm a young punk.” He had added anger to the petulance by then.
“No,” she said calmly, “you're a wacky artist, remember? That's what you told me. And you don't want to be 'controlled.' If you want to wear a dinner jacket, be proper, and act like a banker, you can come anywhere with me you want.” It was a major concession to him. But he didn't want concessions. He wanted freedom to behave any way he wanted, wherever he went, with or without her.
“They should accept me as I am. And so should you,” he said angrily.
“I do. They won't. If you want to go places like that with me, then you have to play their game. So do I. Those are the rules of the road. I can't take you with me this time, because it's too short notice. But if you're serious about this, we'll buy you a dinner jacket, and you can come with me next time, to something else. If you're willing to play by their rules. That's the deal.”
“Fuck them,” he said, suddenly very angry. “Who the hell do they think they are? I'm twice the man they are. I heard this shit from my father when I was growing up. I'm not going to play that game for anyone, Sasha, not even for you.”
“You don't have to,” Sasha said calmly. “You don't have to go to any of the stuffy things I do. But if you want to, you have to follow the rules. That's just the way it is.”
“And who makes those rules? Some pompous old asshole in a monkey suit? Why should I behave like him, and dress like him? Why can't I be me?”
“Because those pompous old assholes have all the money and power and make the rules. He who has the gold, rules. And if you want to go out in that world, then you have to be civilized, and play by their rules.”
“If you were proud of me and loved me, you'd take me anyway.” He was a child in full revolt, as she felt her heart sink. She had been afraid it would come to this, and it hadn't taken long. This was the second argument they'd had in less than a week. It confirmed her worst fears that this wasn't going to work. There were many things she loved about him, his kindness, his warm, open affection toward her, his sense of humor, his intelligence, his talent, how fabulous he was in bed. But his temper tantrums and immaturity were definitely not on that list.
“I am proud of you, and I do love you. But I'm not going to take you into that world, if you're going to make a fool of me, or yourself. If you want to behave any way you want, you will make a fool of both of us.”
“What's more important to you, Sasha? Them or me?”
“You both are. I love you. But I live in that world. That's who I am. I told you that the first time we met. This is the problem we are always going to have, unless you want to give up being a wacky artist and walk into my world like a man. If you want to continue playing wacky artist, or wild young man who can't be tamed or controlled, then you have to let