The Appearance of Annie van Sinderen

Tyler slides a blank form across the table to me. The frozen image of the girl with hipster-curls hair hovering in the editing deck viewfinder seems to be looking at me. Her mouth is open as if she’s about to say something, or like she’s trying to get my attention.

“I should have plenty of time? I mean, I have a bunch more interviews to do and I’ve gotta dub in my music and stuff, but yeah, I’ll finish.” I eye the form without picking it up.

“No,” Tyler says slowly. “Plenty of time to find her.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“How should I know? Ask the medium. She had to pay, right? Maybe her name’s on a receipt. It’s up to you.”

There’s no way I’m going to do that. I stand up again, leaving the form on the table.

“Tyler, I said I was sorry,” I say. I pick up my backpack and feel around inside it to make sure the camera is okay. It is. No shards, anyway.

“I heard you.” Tyler glares up at me.

“Come on, man. What else can I say? You were right. Honestly, I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal . . .” He’s clearly getting super-pissed at me. It occurs to me that he might have been indulging in fantasies of crushing my nose at the same time that I was fantasizing about crushing his. “Is that I’ve got a shot at gallery representation. Okay? Do you have any idea what that means?”

I actually do have some idea what that means. Not that I believe him.

“You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Tyler stares up at me, hard.

“What kind of gallery representation?” I ask with suspicion.

I’m not about to go combing the streets of New York City just so that he can have his crap experimental film shown in some basement art space owned by the daughter of one of his dad’s banker friends. I’m sick of propping up his fantasy life. We both know Tyler’s going to go back to school in the fall and switch his major to business administration and stop wearing eyeliner and that’s going to be the end of it. Then he’ll use the fact that he once majored in film as a way to pick up PR girls when he gets off at night from his i-banker job. I’ve only been in New York for, like, five weeks, and I already understand how Tyler’s life is going to unfold. I’d put money on it.

Sometimes, I hate him for it.

“I met this girl who works at Gavin Brown, okay? Last week, at this opening. I was telling her about Shuttered Eyes, and she said she wants to see the cut when it’s done. She needs to see it on my website.” He stares at me with begging eyes.

“Gavin Brown?” I say with surprise. “Are you serious?”

Tyler nods.

“Like, Gavin Brown, Gavin Brown?”

I can’t hide that I’m impressed. That’s a real place. It gets people in the Whitney Biennial. Art collectors, real ones, actually buy stuff at Gavin Brown. And they want Tyler’s art film? How is that even possible? I catch myself wondering if maybe Tyler has some talent that I haven’t seen. But by looking at him I can tell that Tyler knows this is real. This is probably the most real thing that has ever happened to him.

Sometimes, it’s hard to know opportunity when it happens, Gran said when she gave me the tuition money. At the time, I thought she was kidding.

Slowly Tyler holds out the image-release form to me.

“I have so much left to do, Wes. For serious. I have to edit all the different film stocks into one file and I haven’t even picked my music yet. As it is, I don’t think I’ll be sleeping between now and workshop. I’m gonna run out of time. But you’ve got a week longer than me before yours is due. Please? I won’t make it otherwise.”

He looks truly pathetic. Wheedling, almost.

I hesitate.

Then I take it.

“No promises,” I say.

“Thank you,” Tyler says, relief flooding his face. “No, seriously. Thank you.”

I shake my head, loathing myself for being such a pushover. But one thought flickers at the edge of my consciousness, and mollifies me as I stuff the release form into my backpack.

Her, whispers the thought, and a delicious tremor travels up my spine.

That girl. With the dark eyes. That untouchable girl.

Now I have a reason to find her.





CHAPTER 5