Chapter Thirteen

January 2015

The doors opened, wine was poured, the mingling began, and Mandy's official showing was underway. At first people only trickled in, and Mandy worried her debut as an artist would be a flop. But as the minutes ticked by, the numbers increased, until Beyond the White Wall was buzzing. Aziz really did an amazing job with marketing. People Mandy had never met or seen before attending her event. How wild was that?

However, no matter how many new faces Mandy had been introduced to, she couldn't help but wish Isa were there. They had talked about this moment so many times when they were younger, but Mandy hadn't really heard from Isa since the Fourth of July. One year and six months, to be exact—not that Mandy was counting. She imagined what Isa would look like—her dark curls would hang loosely around her shoulders, and she'd probably be in nice slacks and a colorful sweater, and heels of course. Isa loved her heels. Mandy could even imagine Isa's smile.

"Amanda. Could I get you for a second?" Aziz motioned to Mandy, and she complied with her practiced, polite, yet not-too-excited smile on her face. She couldn't seem too eager to meet artsy people—for some reason this always turned them off.

For the next hour, she was pulled this way and that, wishing everyone at these events wore name tags. She would never in a million years remember all of them. She hadn't had time to say hello to the few people she did know who were there—only exchanging polite glances across the room. Nikki and her parents sipped white wine, and Mandy thought she may have spotted Laura (if she'd changed her hair color again) but wasn't sure. Grace stood in the corner chatting it up with the people around her, completely in her element. Mandy had kissed so many cheeks and talked so much her throat was dry.

She turned, trying to locate a passing waiter with a tray of anything liquid, but stopped cold. Isa was there. Not in slacks but a knee-length pencil skirt. The bright sweater and heels were correct though, and so was that smile. Isa stood talking to someone Mandy didn't know in front of Between Raindrops .

Did Isa know what Mandy felt as her brush swept across that canvas? Could she guess the exact number of tears she had shed?

Isa's head swiveled in Mandy's direction like she could feel Mandy's gaze. But Mandy stepped aside and out of view before Isa could see her. Just like this opening, Mandy had dreamed about talking to Isa again for a long time. She had nightmares about it too. But now, on the precipice of it happening, Mandy was scared shitless. If it weren't for the fact that this was her showing, she probably would've left right then and there. But she couldn't. And deep down she didn't want to. Isa was there. Her Isa.

As much as Mandy was drawn to Isa's light like a moth to a flame, she also knew fire burned, and she wasn't ready.

"Amanda, darling," Aziz cooed. "Allow me to introduce you to Ms. Clarissa Belmont-Yang. She absolutely adores your Shining Darkness piece, and I was hoping you would indulge her a little about your inspiration." Mandy understood all the words that weren't spoken by Aziz. This woman is a collector ready to invest some money on up-and-coming talent in hopes it will pay off, so tell her what she wants to hear.

"It would be my pleasure," Mandy responded to both the spoken and unspoken message. It might've been Mandy's first show, but that didn't mean she didn't know how this worked.

Ms. Clarissa Belmont-Yang was exactly as Mandy expected. She smelled like expensive perfume and money. Lots and lots of money. And she was the kind of person not just Aziz but also Mandy needed. She was the kind of woman who could make an up-and-coming artist's career—or make sure no one ever heard of them again. It was strange to think one person could have that kind of power, but that's how it was in the art world.

Mandy's insides shook. "Thanks so much for coming out this evening. I love your shoes." It was just the right amount of kissing up. Not too strong and a compliment that was both sincere and a little generic. Mandy had to impress, but she couldn't come off as trying to impress. Like a martini, Mandy had to be the correct balance of smooth and strong, which was not an easy feat when a herd of rhinos stomped around in her stomach. Oh, why did she eat that granola bar? If it made a reappearance now, her night—her life—would be over.

"These?" Clarissa swiveled her foot like a model to show them off and glanced around. "They're new," she whispered just loud enough for Mandy to hear—like she was letting Mandy in on a little secret.

"They're fabulous," Mandy responded.

This was the correct answer, Mandy soon realized, as Clarissa began to ramble on like Mandy was her best friend. And for a short moment, Mandy felt like they could be. Their conversation came so easily, like it had when she met Sophie, like it had when it was just Isa and her that first day of kindergarten.

And just like that, there she was again. Mandy had been so wrapped up with Clarissa that she hadn't realized until it was too late that they both stopped in front of the same painting. Out of all the artwork in the show tonight, this one was extra special to Mandy. It was the first piece Mandy painted when she got back from Europe, when Isa had shown up in her garage and it had been like the stars peeking through the clouds on a stormy night. It had been nowhere close to finished then—Mandy had just gotten started. So how was it that Isa chose this one?

Did she know how much this painting was her—was them—what they had, what they lost?

Mandy both loved and hated everything about this painting. It was one she hadn't even thought to bring until she was telling the movers to load it into the truck. Like letting it go would finally let Mandy move on, but here she was with Isa and this painting. The universe could be such a cruel bitch sometimes.

"Tell me about the inspiration for this one," Clarissa said, but Mandy couldn't speak. Anything she said about this piece wasn't for her, it would've been for Isa, and Mandy wasn't sure she was ready to say all those things. To hear what Isa would say—or, worse, wouldn't say—in response.

Mandy's eyes burned. No, she couldn't cry. Not here. Not in front of Ms. Clarissa Belmont-Yang and certainly not in front of Isa. Instead, Mandy grabbed a flute of champagne off a passing waiter's tray and downed it like a penguin stuck in the desert. But really, she was stuck somewhere between her past and her possible future, unable to move in any direction.

Clarissa's lips quirked up on one side. "I understand." And maybe she did—although likely she didn't. "Aziz," she called, and like any good gallery owner, he appeared. "I'll take this one."

Before Aziz could respond, Isa said, "I'm sorry, this one is already spoken for."

The words barely registered as Aziz put the bright red Sold sign next to the painting's name.

"I should've been quicker. Congratulations," Clarissa said to Isa, although her words sounded more bitter than congratulatory, and then she turned toward Aziz. "I'm going to need your help over here." And just as quickly as Ms. Clarissa Belmont-Yang was there, she was gone, and it was Mandy and Isa standing in front of a painting—their painting—in an impenetrable silence.