you.”
“My major,” she says, rubbing her arms together as a particularly cold breeze runs over us. “I can’t stop second-guessing myself.”
“What else would you do?”
“I would paint. But I don’t have time for it. Instead, I just spend lots of time analyzing classical art. It’s like I’m paying tuition to be distracted.”
Inside the café of the Art Institute, we grab two coffees, sit down and explore the map of exhibits and plan our attack.
Maya twirls her hair and asks, “So my dilemma is, do I major in Art History or switch to something else? So, what does ‘The Grant Way’ of visiting the Art Institute have to do with making a decision?” She pauses, and squints at me. “Wait, first, tell me about you. What’s your dilemma?”
“I don’t really have a clear dilemma in front of me right now.”
She bites her lip. “Liar. You’re a scaredy cat.”
My insides warm. “Oh yeah? And what exactly am I scared of?”
She grins. “I don’t know. I feel like there’s something on your mind.”
There is. Should I see the obvious signposts—you know, the fact that you have a boyfriend, and throw in the towel on pursuing you? Or do I listen to that deep down voice in my gut that’s telling me not to give up on what we could be?
“Let’s get on with the exhibition, come on.”
11
Maya
When we finish the visit to the Art Institute, we’re both starving, so we head to River North for a casual bite to eat and we look at the results from the little exercise of “The Grant Way” of looking at things.
I list the paintings I was especially drawn to.
-A Soul Called Ida by Ivan Albright
-A Sunday on La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat—or the dot painting as Grant insists on calling it.
-The self portrait of Van Gogh.
-And The Assumption of the Virgin.
“You’re really into the sort of meta images of artists,” Grant observes as we go over my list.
“And lots of the paintings with people in them,” I add.
“Yes. The Ivan Albright stuff is magical realist interpretation of humans. So, let’s talk about ‘The Grant Way’. What do you think it means that you were drawn to those?”
“I’m not sure. What about The Assumption of the Virgin? That’s not a self-portrait of an artist. Neither is Seuret’s.”
“Hmmm, you’re right. It doesn’t fit with the others. What does it look like to you?”
Grant hands me his phone and shows me an image of the painting. I stared at the life-size version of this one for at least five minutes. “Obviously, it’s Mary ascending. But before I looked at the name, I had this feeling like it was of a woman finally standing up to her father. I thought she seemed afraid.”
Grant’s eyes widen. It seems so clear all of a sudden, even though before I went to the museum, the thought was hazy.
“Why is she afraid?” Grant asks.
“I think she’s afraid because, what if she stands up to him, and then it turns out she wasn’t able to achieve what she thought she could? What if she severs ties with him and then ends up needing his protection some time?”
Grant keeps staring at the painting, then turns to me. “I’m not going to put words in your mouth, but it seems like you know what you’ve been thinking about.”
I sigh. “I’m scared to stand up to my father, aren’t I?”
“Do you want me to weigh in?”
“Please.”
He cocks his head to the side and locks his eyes on mine. “Maya, you’re incredibly smart and talented. I don’t know how you’ve changed in the past year exactly, but I’ve really only known you for one year. You give so much energy to anyone you come into contact with. You’re this fiery ball of life.” Grant sips his water and looks out the window. From his eyes, I can tell he’s thinking hard.
“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
He brings his eyes back to me and grins. “There is. You’re very smart. But you sometimes give that life force away to those who don’t earn it. You’re sort of charitable with it. I’m not judging you, just pointing it out.”
My gut reaction is to go on the defense, but I take a deep breath and try not to resist what Grant’s telling me since I know he’s coming from a place of love. “Can you explain what you mean a little bit more?”
He thinks for a few moments. “You’ve got this incredible power in the way you rub off on