Topsy Turvy Kinda Love
later, I’m pulling up in front of Rising Tides Art Gallery and slow to a stop. Mia looks at the window, then looks back at me. “Why are we here?”“Wait and see.” I smile at her. Every fiber in me hopes this isn’t a bad decision on my part. I’ve gone back and forth on the decision, but even if she hates me for it, someone else needs to see her art. To enjoy it like I do. I’ve done my research, and if you can get in here, you’ve made it.
“Okay…” I turn off the car, pulling the keys from the ignition and get out, walking around the front of the car to open her door for her.
Lending her my hand as she steps up onto the curb, her sparkling pools of unending eyes find mine. It’s clear she knows exactly where we are and that in itself holds promise for me. Walking to the front door of the gallery, I yet again hold it for her.
“Thank you,” she says with a smile before stepping inside.
“I love this place. I’ve always dreamed of showing off my artwork here. Only the best of the best gets picked.”
“You want to walk around?”
“Of course. I haven’t been here in a while.” We walk through every exhibit looking at every single piece that lines the walls. Some are dark, others light and bright. Every painting or sculpture is a contrast to the one beside it, almost like they planned it out this way.
I find myself looking sideways at some of the pieces. Some are confusing, and you have to wonder what they were thinking when they created it. They’re odd, and most I don’t understand, but I watch Mia as she spends time analyzing each. The look of pensive admiration crosses her face as we stop at one.
Sometimes she chews her bottom lip like she really wants to get inside what’s going on. I imagine her crawling into the brain of the artist and examining each neuron used in creating such masterpieces.
As if she can tell where each brushstroke comes from and goes to. To me, they all look like lines on a canvas. But to Mia, they are fantastic pieces of a story. Each with a past and a purpose. Each artist tells a tale of their life. Stories of hope, love, pain, the past, the future, and everything in between. She’s in her element and to be able to watch her doing something she loves is nothing short of the perfect afternoon. She tells me little things about each piece as we pass it. Most are artists from the New York area. Her passion for art is endless. I wonder if it’s the thing she loves most in this world, even if she claims to not believe in love.
“Brooks,” a man says my name from behind us, and I turn to see him walking our way, his arm outstretched to shake my hand. I watch as Mia’s mouth drops open in shock.
She leans over before he reaches us and whispers softly, “You know him?” I nod at her and turn back to Mr. Leonard. “Geoffrey.”
“I’m so glad you could finally come in.” He turns to Mia. “And you must be the impressive Mia Preston I’ve been hearing about…” Her mouth opens and closes twice, only breath escaping, unable to form words. “I’ve heard and seen some pretty incredible things about you, Miss Preston.”
“W-What… how…” Her eyes lace with confusion as she looks back and forth between us, trying to figure out the game plan.
“Brooks here showed me some pictures of your work, and I’d like to extend an offer to show your work here at the gallery for a month-long show. How would you feel about that?”
She nods excitedly. “Um. I would love to show my work here, but I’m confused. It normally takes months to get a show here, and there’s an application and…”
“Well, of course, I’d like to take a look at your pieces in person. Pictures, I’m sure, don’t do them justice. I’d like to extend the offer on a preliminary basis if you can bring them in.”
“You know, I’ve been dreaming about showing my work here since I started college. Never in a million years did I ever imagine it becoming a reality. So, I guess all I have to say is thank you for the chance.”
“Don’t thank me. Your boyfriend practically begged me to offer you a spot, and I can definitely see why. You’ve got an incredible gift, Mia. I don’t say that lightly. I’ve turned many artists away from showing their work in this gallery.”
“Boyfriend…” The smile that’s been covering her face leaves at the mere mention of me being anything other than just her friend and fuck buddy. It hurts, painfully hard. Of course, she won’t see me as anything more. Mia doesn’t do boyfriends. She doesn’t believe in love. She’d told me all along, and my damn hopeful heart had hoped that maybe I was the one that’d make a difference. I can’t blame her. At least she’s honest about it.
“He’s not my boyfriend… he’s my…”
“Roommate.” I supply the words, afraid of what she’ll say next.
“Oh, I was under the impression.” He looks between us. “My apologies.”
“No worries.”
“So… you’re still interested in doing a show with us?” he says, looking at Mia.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to have a couple days to think it over.” Well, at least she’s going to think about it. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.
“Sure, Mia. You take a couple days and let me know. Sooner rather than later would be best, though.” He winks.
They talk for a few more minutes before she turns to leave through the same doors we’d walked through just half an hour ago. She whirls at me once we reach the car. “You had no right.”
“What are you talking about, Mia?”
“You had no right to show someone else my paintings. Those are mine.” She points to her