“Oh thank goodness for the air conditioning!” the woman next to me says, fanning her massively oversized bosom with a gallery brochure. “I do say, the next time someone wants to hold an art show, they need to do it only in the decent months of the year. November through February only. Don't you agree, dear?”

I'm personally freezing. My nipples went numb about twenty minutes ago, and right now the only thing keeping me from looking just like the Corpse Bride is my damn silver hair, it’s the wrong color. Still, I smile, and give a pleasant nod. “After the humidity outside, this is refreshing.”

“Just remember dear, whatever you buy, make sure you climate control,” she says, leaning in. “I haven't seen this artist before, but some of my friends in Chicago told me that he's rocketing up in the art world.”

I hide my smile, wondering just how in the know this lady's friends are if she doesn't know that 'Chris O'Hara' is a woman. I guess I can understand, I started signing my pieces that way simply because doing two S's in paint is a pain in the ass. I always get one of them looking lopsided somehow, and so the change. But still, I've never tried to hide the fact that I'm a woman. In fact, the gallery's brochure for tonight uses 'she' continually.

I give the woman a polite nod and excuse myself, wishing I didn't have another two hours of show still to get myself through. The simple fact is, I'm not just cold, I'm bored. I mean, I enjoyed all of the pieces that I painted for this show, but I really wish Dan was here.

It wasn't like I didn't ask.

“Please?” I ask, laying in bed with him after another night of lovemaking. My cheek is warm, but I do wish he'd have taken off his shirt. Still, the feeling of his body warmth seeping through the thin cotton to soak into my body helps me feel better. “I'm not saying you have to streak through the gallery, although I've heard that isn't all that uncommon. It is near Bourbon Street you know.”

“While it's a fun invitation, I'm still saying no,” Dan replies, turning to stroke my cheek. “Come on, what would you do with a guy like me at an art show? I know I like what you paint, but other than that I can't tell a Michaelangelo from the guy who draws Spider-Man.”

“I don't care about that,” I urge, stroking his chest through his shirt. “Dan, it's about having a nice time with you, that's all. We go down, do the show, spend another day enjoying New Orleans, and maybe another day driving back, taking our time. Grand total of a five day vacation from Lakeville, a couple of nice nights in halfway decent hotels, and hell, we can even stock up on enough veggies or whatever for our houses that we won't have to go into town for… shit, I don't know, but it could be at least a week or two.”

Dan shakes his head, slowly untangling his body from mine and getting out of bed. I can just start to see his scars under the hem of his shirt, and I know that's why he's wearing the long sleeved shirt even on this muggy night, but I wish he didn't worry about it so much. He walks halfway across my bedroom before stopping, turning around. “Chrissy, I know what you're asking from me. And I know it shouldn't bother me. But… I am bothered. I'm not ready to face the whole world yet, let alone be in an art gallery where I can't just walk away if people start staring or asking questions.”

“Nobody will be an asshole… it's New Orleans, not Lakeville,” I point out. “Dan, your accident, it's just that, an accident. And I hate to sound mean about it, but old news too. Nobody has you pegged as Public Enemy Number One. Besides a few meanspirited assholes in town, you're not under anyone's microscope.”

Dan nods, and runs a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering at the point where the scars start to pucker his hairline. I've come to learn that gesture, it means that his inner demons are starting to gnaw at him. He pauses, then turns to me, shaking his head. “I'm sorry, Beautiful. I know what you're saying is right but… I just can't yet. I'm not… I'm not ready.”

It sucked having to leave Dan behind in Lakeville, but I'm still trying to be patient. I fight my way through the rest of the show, which goes well but not quite as well as my last show in Chicago, and head back to my hotel, ready to crash for a few hours. I've got a long drive back home tomorrow from the airport, and while I appreciate the numbers that are going to be deposited into my bank account in a few weeks, I really don't like jetlag.

Reaching the hotel, I see that I've got a call from Lakeville of all places. Wondering who it might be, it's definitely not Dan or Willow since their numbers are programmed into my phone, I dial it back, hoping I'm not interrupting anything.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is Chrissy O'Hara. You called my number about an hour ago?” I reply, thankful that the person doesn't sound sleepy. I know if someone called my phone at eleven thirty at night and I didn't know them, I'd be sounding a lot worse than that.

“Oh, hello Chrissy. It's Dirk,” he replies, brightening. Funny, I've only ever spoken with the man twice, and he's already introducing himself on a first name basis. “I was hoping to actually reach you at home, but when I went by nobody was home. Dan said you're having an art show, am I interrupting you?”

“Not at all, I just got back to the hotel,” I admit. “What can I do for you, Dirk?”

“Well, I know this sound silly, but next weekend is Lakeville Days. Have you heard of it?”

I stop, wondering where this is going. “Uh, I saw a banner about it when I drove through town last time, but to be honest I didn't pay it much attention. Why?”

“Lakeville Days is sort of the town's attempt to toot its own horn,” Dirk says, sounding slightly embarrassed. “It's more of a county fair than anything else, but we sort of spiffy it all up a bit. There's events throughout the weekend, but the big thing is the local achievements and Social on the green on Sunday night. For the past few years, the local achievements have been mighty sparse. Third place in the state pie baking contest doesn't exactly create a buzz, and the high school glee club can only sing so many times.”

“I guess,” I reply, still unsure where Dirk's going with all this. “What's that got to do with me?”

“Well, I'd like to offer you an invitation,” Dirk says. “I know you're new to town, and technically it might not be enough time to quite qualify for Lakeville Days, but I would really appreciate it if you could show a couple of your pieces on the green. Nothing big, I certainly don't want you to go out of your way to paint anything new, but… well, do you have a few pieces you wouldn't mind showing?”

I think, then smirk. “Your timing is nearly impeccable, Dirk. I've got a half dozen or so pieces that didn't sell tonight. I can check with the gallery, bring them. If not, I've got one or two at home that might fit the bill too. How's that sound?”

“Oh wow… wow, really,” Dirk says, sounding relieved. “If I had to sit through one more glee club performance of I Wanna Hold Your Hand I'm going to lose it. Especially this year, the club's hurtin'. Uh, that might be too many, but maybe if you can pick out three or four that'd be better. Now, about the Social… it is just that, a social.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. “To me, a social is an old fashioned word for an excuse to eat ice cream after church one Sunday a year. I didn’t know there was another way to use it.”

“Well… it's old fashioned, and I wish I could get it changed, but people are expected to arrive with a date,” Dirk explains. “There'll be dancing, conversation… that sort of thing. Think of it as a sporty casual dance on the town green.”

“Ah shit Dirk, you know that'll be difficult. I mean, Dan and I….”

“I understand,” Dirk says quickly, “and I want to apologize, because Willow already chewed my damn ear off about this, but I'm just trying to help you and Dan out. I personally want the stupid damn rumors to stop, but I know I can't just go kicking ass and taking names.”

“Never does work that way,” I admit. “Still, some people in Lakeville seem to be stuck in a high school mentality.”

“No… at least high schoolers ignore you if you just stay out of their way,” Dirk replies. “No, some people are more vicious than that. So I would like them to stop. If you show up with a date, then a lot of the rumors will stop about you and Willow. I don't know what might pop up to replace them, but around Lakeville, people tend to find new rumors quickly enough. I doubt they'd be complex enough to try and think of something new about you. Unless you sacrifice chickens by moonlight?”

“Nope, no chickens. Maybe a rainbow trout or two,” I joke. “Okay, okay. I'll try and get a date. But if I show up solo… I'm giving zero fucks about what anyone says.”

The reality is, I not overly worried what small minded idiots say about me. But I do worry about Dan, and I'd like to take this strain off his mind if I can. He gets so worried about the way people perceive him, and I know he’s angry about the stupid rumors about me and Willow. If I can end those, it’ll be a load off his mind.

I'm sure Dirk understands and sees things my way, because he sounds very happy. “Okay. I'll tell the Lakeville Days committee that you'll have a few pieces for the Social. When can you bring them by?”

“I'll be back in town tomorrow night, so… say two days from now?” I ask. “I mean, if that's okay, but I'd like a day to just try and crash and get some sleep.”

“Sleep is a good thing. Two days is more than fine. Thank you, and goodnight, Christina.”

“Goodnight, Dirk.”

“No.”

I blink, trying to wrap my head around what I'm hearing. “Dan… please. I'm just asking you to be my date for the Social tomorrow night.”

“I understand that, Chrissy,” Dan says, setting his coffee cup down. “And my answer is no.”

I sigh, trying to maintain my cool. “You know this would help both of us. It'd help kill the rumors about me and Willow for one.”

“I understand, but I'm not going to the social,” Dan replies. “I can't.”

“Why? Because some dumb bitches might whisper about you behind your back?” I ask, feeling stupid even as I say it. The whole point of this is because dumb bitches are whispering behind our backs. But also, because while I at first thought I didn’t care, as the social approaches I find that I do care. I want to live peacefully in Lakeville, and I want to do it with Dan. What I don’t want is a bunch of stupid rumors that could be killed with a single dance. “I'm serious, Dan. It'd be fun.”

“Fun. I don't think you're understanding what the Social is,” Dan grumbles in a surly voice. “A couple hours of bad music, town gossiping, and people looking over your paintings to make snarky comments. I'd be surprised if one of them didn't end up splattered in ketchup and mustard.”

“They're surreal, I doubt anyone would notice,” I quip, while silently uncomfortable. “Dan, please. This is important to me. Be my date for the Lakeville Days Social.”

Dan stops, then shakes his head one more time. “I'm sorry Chrissy, but no. That's my final answer.”

I sigh, knowing I'm not going to get anywhere with him on this. It shouldn't frustrate me this much, I mean I didn't feel this strongly when he said he didn't want to go to New Orleans, but for some reason this time it does.

But I also know I'm not going to get anywhere with Dan like this. He's so damn stubborn sometimes, which can be appealing in its own way, but other times makes me want to just throw my hands up in exasperation. “I understand. I hope you change your mind, I don't want to have to go alone.”

Dan says nothing, staring into his coffee cup, and I get up, leaving his cabin. It's hard not to slam his door as I leave, and I'm still frustrated when I get back to my place and start painting. At least the frustration helps, this one's a darker piece that has no place in the Lakeville Days, but will go over great in some of the big city galleries.

Actually, it's more than frustration that fuels my painting. It's fear and uncertainty. I understand Dan's fears, and I understand that he is the target of just as many nasty rumors as I am. Maybe more.

But that's what this date could end. It's all well and good to spend time together at our houses, or walking in the woods, or passionately fucking each other's brains out four or five times a week like we have been recently. But we do need to be able to have lives outside the three acres that our houses occupy, and we need to have a relationship outside of them too. At least I do, I have to. I'm not ready to be the recluse eccentric artist just yet.

What if Dan isn't ready to try and take the world on? What if… what if he's never able to take the world on? What sort of future would I have with a boyfriend, a man, or maybe even a husband who's unable to even face going on a simple roadtrip? What would the honeymoon be, going around the far end of the lake to rough it in a spot of woods nobody goes to? What sort of relationship is that?

I deserve better, and I think Dan could be better, but what if I'm wrong?

I'm still swirling in my self doubts, worries, and anger when there's a knock on my front door. Surprised, I look up at the clock to see that it's nearly nine o'clock, I've been painting nonstop nearly all day, and my hand aches from where the brushes have been digging into my hand. Setting my tools aside, noting that I'm going to have to buy a new red sable number three after the abuse I've put it through today, I open my front door.

“Justin?” I ask as I see my other neighbor standing on my front step, his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans and looking slightly bashful. “What brings you out?”

“Uhm… I wanted to apologize first of all,” Justin says, scratching at his temple. “I realize that our first talk didn't go too well, I was sort of an egocentric jerk. And the second time I came over… well, that didn't go too well. Willow explained why, I assume?”

I'm tempted to make the classic 'ass out of u and me' joke, but just nod. “She did. Not your finest hour.”

“I know, I know… honestly I feel like an idiot about that too, but I'm not exactly on Willow's top people list,” Justin replies. “But I was hoping that you and I could be… I don't know, friendly neighbors? That sounds stupid, but I hope you understand me. If not friendly, at least polite and neighborly?”

I nod. Willow is a lot to handle for someone who's not used to outrageous people, and I guess if I'd been in Justin's shoes I might have freaked out a little myself. I’m willing to give him a second chance, maybe I’m just soft that way. “I wouldn't mind being on good terms.”

“Good!” Justin exclaims brightly. “So I was thinking, this weekend is Lakeville Days and I heard your art's going to be in the Social. And knowing what the traditions are around town, I was sort of wondering if you wouldn't mind if I was your date. I mean, it'd help with what folks are saying around town.”

I think, chewing my lip. Justin isn't Dan… but then again, Dan isn't willing to go. “Upfront, I have to say this isn't a date. I'm not interested in you romantically, Justin. Can we be clear on that?”

“Sure, sure,” Justin says quickly, holding his hands up. “I gotcha. I mean, I think you're fine as all hell, but I understand that sometimes people just don't spark. But I'd still be stupid not to enjoy your company at the Social.”

I think for a moment, then nod. “Okay. Pick me up at five thirty, and we can go into town.”

Justin grins, nodding. “Five thirty sounds good. I'll see you Saturday night. Goodnight.”

I nod, smiling. “Goodnight, Justin. And thank you.”

Justin leaves, and I close my door, turning back. Okay, one problem down. And while I might have to smooth things over with Dan, he should be able to understand hopefully.