My Nora

chapter Fifteen


Nora left the next day for Baltimore, several days in advance of her gallery appearance. She hadn’t originally intended to go so soon, having thought she would drive up with Matt, but she had a few things to do. And, being perfectly honest with herself, Matt had hurt her feelings. She wanted to get away so she wouldn’t feel tempted to grovel. She didn’t understand his sudden change of heart toward her, but it was his prerogative. He didn’t owe her any explanations.

Bennie was packing up her house, and being well into her second trimester had a great deal more energy than she had just weeks prior, but had a hard time with heavy lifting. Nora helped her pack up her scads of graphic design books, portfolio items, Bennie’s extensive collection of Blu-ray discs, then bagged up all the party-girl clothes Bennie doubted she’d ever wear again. Bennie had actually gained no weight during the pregnancy, and it wasn’t because she was sick like Karen. She was technically overweight when she started, and the pregnancy was making her burn through a lot of stored fat. Her natural form was a rather delicate one typical of short Chinese women, and for her to maintain her voluptuous curves she would have had to eat non-stop. “I don’t have that kind of time, sweetie,” she’d said when Nora observed that Bennie’s maternity skinny jeans were drooping.

And then Nora went to visit her own family, who claimed they saw more of her on her website than they did in person. It was true, but Nora didn’t know what the solution to that problem could possibly be. She definitely didn’t want them to move south. Her little world was crowded enough already.

On the Monday morning her last painting was due to be revealed, she woke to a text message from Karen. “Any chance you’ll send me a picture?” she’d sent at four fifty-seven am.

Nora responded: “Yeah, right before they let the jerks with the cameras in. I promise.”

Bennie apparently didn’t trust Nora to dress herself and purchased what she thought was a suitable outfit for a young hip artist. When Nora came out of the shower with her wet hair still wrapped in a towel, she found her attire laid out on the air mattress she’d been camped out on for the past few evenings. She stepped into a sunset orange sleeveless linen dress that made the rusty tint of her brown hair look a bit richer. She put her arms through the stacks of bangles, each one a bit different — Bennie had obviously pulled from her own sizable collection — and donned the gaudy rhinestone ring that she admitted made her feel a bit glamorous. Nora slid her feet into blessedly low-heeled peep-toe sandals, and then stood in front of the mirror holding the blow-dryer up to her face with the diffuser attached to the nozzle.

Bennie, who’d been dressing in her own room, ran into the bedroom shrieking. “Don’t you dare,” he snapped, snatching the device away. “Fluff that shit up and let’s go,” she said, frowning so Nora knew she meant it.

Ann Magee fell all over herself to get at Nora when she and Bennie snuck into the gallery through the back door. Nora had met Spence of course, but she’d never met Ann. Ann was a well-known supporter of free love, being the love child of three hippies. No one understood the math behind that, but Ann never bothered to explain. “Watch out for her,” the silver fox Spence said, swooping in with a glass of champagne and handing it to Nora. “If she’s not supervised, she’ll have you pinned against the wall with your dress hiked up around your waist in the coat closet.”

“Eek,” Nora said, working her way up to the front of the gallery to avoid the clutches of the cougar in the pantsuit. While Bennie and the gallery owners talked business, Nora stood in front of her quintet of paintings, and admired each one in turn. She’d had just enough separation from them that they seemed new and fresh to her. When she got to the fifth, she lifted the corner of the white drape that obscured it and snapped a picture with her phone, right as Ann unlocked the door to let the press in a bit early ahead of the general public.

Before any of them had a chance to figure out who she was, she hid in a corner and sat on a little marble bench in front of a nude statue. She sent Karen the picture, and waited, holding her breath.

Karen responded almost instantly. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Gonna show Oma.” Nora slipped her phone into her purse and closed the latch. She took exactly one minute to center herself and then she got up and walked toward the voice that was calling out “Has anyone seen Nora?”

Half an hour later, Nora stood next to her fifth painting, waiting with the rest of the gallery crowd for Ann and Spence to pull down the sheet. Nora felt sick to her stomach with nervousness and shifted her weight from foot to foot with anticipation. This painting was so personal to Nora, and that was what kept her from finishing it in all those weeks. When she’d gone back to her computer to examine the image of the fishing boats and the workers, there had been a man standing in the foreground assessing her curiously. She’d cropped him out during her initial framing, thinking she’d concentrate on the men closest to the boat. When she went back to the original large file, she realized the dark-haired man assessing her was Matt, whom she hadn’t even recognized because she was guilty of not heeding her own preaching. She had looked without actually seeing. And that photo had been taken after that night they’d shared fish and beers and laughs. She’d been totally out of it. He had probably thought she was rude for not saying “hi.”

When they pulled down the sheet, Nora closed her eyes and blocked out the sounds around her.

*

“Nora, that was absolutely genius,” Bennie said, shaking Nora by the shoulders while the gallery guests milled about, making notes on their little programs about the art and having discreet discussions about the price tags. “Matt as Neptune,” Bennie shook her head, speechless for once.

“Yeah,” Nora mumbled, shaking her own head, not because she was annoyed but because her hair was growing larger by the minute and it was overwhelming her periphery. She was terrified about what the pictures from the evening would look like. Nora turned to look at the painting herself and wrung her hands. Neptune’s waist was draped in a flowing white sheet that had been inspired by Matt that ill-fated evening they heard a bump downstairs at Nora’s house.

Spence sidled up between Nora and Bennie and whispered, “I’m hearing talk about some pretty big dollar signs for all five paintings. There’s one woman who wants the whole lot.” He tipped his head in the direction of an older woman in a black lace dress who was leaning in close to “The Swamp Is His Moat” and studying the small details with a magnifying glass. “I believe she’s from Raleigh. She collects North Carolina art.”

“Of course she does,” Nora whispered back. “That’s the governor’s wife.”

Spence and Bennie both whipped their heads back in the woman’s direction.

“If you’ll excuse me, cash cow, I need to go schmooze,” Spence said, giving Bennie a tap on the rear end and walking off.

“Did he just … ?”

“Yes,” Bennie said blandly as she scrolled through the messages on her phone.

The gallery closed late that evening, and toward the end of the show Nora had taken to hiding on her little bench again. Ann was running up from the back to lock the door when a deep familiar voice said, “Wait, please.”

Nora poked her head around the column she was hiding behind and gasped at the sight of the visitor. One she didn’t expect. It was the one man who would drive nearly five hours after a long day of work just to spend five minutes in a gallery.

“You’re the man in the painting,” Ann said, wearing a lecherous grin and guiding him in by the arm.

“I’m sorry?” he asked, looking confused, and shifting the bouquet he was holding to the other arm to avoid having Ann crush it with her enthusiasm.

“No need to be sorry, dear. Half the women here tonight went home with wet panties. Good thing you weren’t here sooner or you may have caused a riot.”

“Huh?”

“Matt!” Nora intercepted the duo before they rounded the corner to Nora’s North Carolina series.

“Hey, baby.” He offered Nora the bouquet of tulips and an “I’m an a*shole” smile.

“I take it he’s not just your model,” Ann intuited.

“No. Not just that,” Nora said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Damn it.” Ann sighed and jiggled her key ring, retracing her footsteps back to the front door to lock it.

“Sorry I’m late,” Matt said, wrapping an arm around Nora’s waist and pulling her close. “I didn’t think I’d make it.”

“I thought you weren’t coming at all.”

“Well, I wasn’t until this afternoon and then I realized that the scads of people who’ve been telling me that I’m really stupid are probably right.” Matt lowered his voice to a whisper. “I missed you. I always miss you.”

“I’m glad you do. Knowing so makes me feel less like I’m on a flying trapeze without a net.”

“I’m not Elvin, Nora. Your popularity scares me a bit. I don’t feel like I can keep up.”

Nora shook her head furiously. “You don’t need to keep up. You were the one who said that this is our normal. That changed things for me. If you’ll take me the way I am for all my inattentiveness and downright boringness at times, I’ll take you the way you are.”

“And how am I?”

“You’re protective. Hard-working. Practical. Flexible.” Nora wrapped her arms around his waist and gazed up at him. “And since meeting you, I’ve never been less lonely.” She giggled. “And prone to unpredictable circumstances.”

Matt bent down to kiss her tenderly on the lips, making her go weak in the knees as she thought about how far he’d come to make things right. To build a bridge. Elvin would have never done that. Nora didn’t know men did that at all. Matt was constantly surprising her. She thought perhaps she should get used to being surprised.

“So, where’s this painting I’m not sure I want to see?” he asked when they finally pulled apart.