Homesick (Lesbian)

CHAPTER 14: OPENING NIGHT

Caroline Rosen nodded a great total of two times. That was as much validation as I was going to get from her and for what I understand, it was a lot. She went back and forward from one painting to the other, tilted her head, leaned in, then leaned back. I was incredibly nervous, if she didn't like the paintings, I had less than a week to show her something new, or worse, she could cancel the whole thing and all of this would be for nothing. My life-long dream was on the line for me and she hadn't said a word in almost fourteen minutes.

Finally she stood back, turned to me but instead of telling me what she thought, she pulled her phone out of her purse and dialed a number, "Yes. Yes. You can proceed, we'll have the opening night exactly as planned." Then she hung up.

I smiled. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"It means I'm impressed and that doesn't happen often. It means you'll get your opening night. And it means you must be at your best. I'll have Scott make a reservation for you, both dress and make up. Don't be late."

I wanted to jump and scream but I remained calmed. I wasn't about to lose my shit in front of a woman who clearly detests people who are too emotional. Caroline walked up to number 13 and took another look.

"Talk to me about this one. The mixture of colors is very... nostalgic."

My smile vanished. Up until two days ago I wasn't sure I wanted to display this one, but I was running out of time and truth be told, it was a very good painting. Maybe one of my best. But the thing was...

"That painting is, well, it's about my wife." Fuck my life. "Ex-wife" I clarified. I needed to stop referring to her as my wife. "The gray and green opaque the lines between the center and the bottom of the painting. It feels heavy. It's supposed to feel confusing and disorienting."

"Yes, that is the sensation I got. I just need to ask, what is your fixation with this woman? You're dating a millionaire artist who could take you to Santorini for the weekend, and you're still hooked on some random girl from Oregon. I just don't get it."

"I'm not hooked. I have feelings about the divorce so I just painted them."

She gave me a sarcastic smile and said, "Sure. Scott will be calling you in two hours to get the final details ready. Don't be late, don't mess it up."

"I won't."

Scott called exactly two hours later to schedule everything, picking up the paintings, buying a dress, doing my make up, which would be done professionally may I add. I've never had professional make up done, not even on my wedding. Although my wedding was not exactly a ceremony, just sign here and here, and congratulations you're officially each other problem.

I had very little sleep on the week before the opening night. My head was filled with possibilities, all of them bad. What if people don't like my paintings, what if I don't sell a thing, what if no one shows up? These thoughts were running around in my mind one night when my phone rang. I picked it up.

Unknown. Weird.

"Hello?"

There was a moment of silence on the other line, then a shy, "Hey".

I froze. I was so used to the idea that she would never, ever call me, that it hadn't occurred to me what a unknown number could mean.

Ok, I can totally do this. Just keep calm, you have this. It's been seven months, it's fine, you're fine. You can totally do this, she has no power over you whatsoever. Just answer like you would with anyone else. Let her know that she is no one to you.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Well done, idiot. I should give a fucking Ted Talk. Riley didn't answer immediately, she stayed quiet for a moment. She was trying to figure out how to proceed to not piss me off more than I already was.