Lakeville’s town common is, well, pretty damn common most days. A standard park with a gazebo in the middle, it’s mostly used by people for jogging around the outside, and a few kids will play pickup soccer on the grass in the middle most days.

It’s just one of those parks that it seems a bunch of towns used to have, and perhaps the only thing that makes it special is that most towns are getting rid of theirs. When land’s valuable, and you can stick a supermarket or something that’ll collect taxes for the city, towns get rid of their commons.

But Lakeville’s common has a couple of things going for it. One, land around Lakeville is pretty cheap, it’s a small town with room to grow. Second, the town common’s small. A small sign by the entrance says that the jogging track is exactly one fifth of a mile around the entire commons, smaller than a soccer field. There just isn’t much use for a land plot that size downtown.

But tonight it looks pretty, in that small town sort of cheap way. Lights have been strung between the poles to create almost a pinwheel effect around the main gazebo, and below tiki torches have been put on stands to create a bit of a party feel to the whole surroundings.

“Well, this does look nice,” I tell Justin as we get out of his car. “I suppose this is a big deal for Lakeville.”

Justin laughs, putting a hand on my elbow. “I’m sure for this town it is. I think most of it’s cheesy as hell, but there’s something to be said for cheese. Which, by the way, I recommend you skipping. Dirk’s going to try and get you to try some of the ‘famous’ Lakeville Cheese Fries, and well, you can do a lot better in Chicago.”

“Speaking of Dirk,” I reply, politely pulling my arm away, “there he is. Good, we’re still in time.”

I head over to the main gazebo, where Dirk waves as I approach. “Christina, you look absolutely beautiful,” he says, smiling broadly. He’s not too bad himself, wearing a natty looking blue sport coat and khakis that makes him look like the consummate late summer politico. “I must say, I was a little worried you’d show up in ripped black denim and some leather.”

“That’ll be for Halloween,” I joke, taking another step forward as I feel Justin crowding up on me. He’s seriously interjecting himself into my personal space, but I guess he’s just trying to do what we talked about, squashing the rumors about Willow and I. Still… back off, dude!

“Well, in any case I’m looking forward to seeing how folks react,” Dirk says, shaking my hand before getting up on the gazebo. “I didn’t think you’d have something so… large delivered.”

I chuckle, looking at the centerpiece of my display, my surreal landscape of Lakeville that’s under the dropcloth. It’s more than what Dirk asked, eight pieces total with the Lakeville centerpiece being an immense five feet wide and four feet tall. The rest are a few of the unsold pieces from my Chicago and New Orleans shows, arrayed around the outside of the gazebo, and Dirk gets on the microphone. Some music plays, and a small crowd of maybe a thousand or so gather.

“It’s nice to see you Lakeville,” Dirk says, his voice carrying all around the commons and pulling some more people in. “Now normally, this would be the time of Lakeville Days when I blab on and on until I’m interrupted by the glee club director so something in tune comes out of the speakers.”

There’s a ripple of laughter from the crowd, and I realize I’m seeing Dirk as a politician for the first time. He’s the kind that’ll earn respect by being unassuming, not afraid to get a laugh at his expense, but as long as the town continues to be quietly prosperous, he’ll be fine. Barring the town economy collapsing, he could ride out this mayor thing for another dozen years before he retires by his own choice.

“This year though, I’ve got something new,” Dirk says. “Many of you remember Winnie O’Hara, and I know our town mourned when she passed away earlier this year. But with every loss is the chance for new growth, and I’ve been proud to have the chance to welcome that new growth to our town, Christina O’Hara.”

There’s polite applause for me, and I flush, unfamiliar with this kind of public acknowledgement. Still, I can tell it’s not quite enthusiastic, but Dirk plunges ahead.

“Chrissy came to Lakeville already with a good reputation via her grandmother, but in the past few months she’s certainly more than backed it up. After multiple successful shows in both Chicago and New Orleans, it’s my honor to say that Lakeville is the home of one of the country’s best up and coming young artists. So it’s with great pride and a warm welcome to reveal the centerpiece of today’s events, Chrissy O’Hara’s Lake of Life. Chrissy, will you help me with the reveal?”

I nod, shaking hands again with Dirk before revealing my piece to again, polite but slightly bewilderd and unethusiastic applause. Ah well. “Thank you, Dirk. And thank you for the invitation,” I say after the music starts up again. “Although I don’t know if I rate getting it.”

Dirk snorts, watching the crowd circling the gazebo. “You underrate yourself. You keep it up, and you’ll be the most famous thing to come out of Lakeville since ol’ Frankie Klinger.”

“Who?”

Dirk chuckles. “He played two seasons in the Major Leagues back in the fifties,” he explains. “Lifetime batting average of two thirty five, hit seven home runs for the then St. Louis Browns. Up until you showed up, he’s the biggest star this town’s ever produced.”

“Yeah well, art’s sort of funny,” I promise him. “One day you’re the next Picasso, and tomorrow you’re jealous of the guy who did Dogs Playing Poker. So we’ll have to see.”

Dirk’s called away and Justin comes up, a hot dog in his hand. “Hungry?”

“No thanks,” I reply, watching the crowd. “I almost never eat during a showing. Drink maybe, but eating… fuck.”

“What?” Justin asks curiously. “Forget something?”

“No,” I reply, keeping my voice low. “I can just see how the crowd’s reacting.”

It’s true. While I know a lot of my work tends towards the surreal and is popular in high art circles, I was hoping the average Lakeville citizen could see what I was going for. But while people aren’t exactly fetching their pitchforks and grabbing the nearest tiki torch to burn the paintings on their stands, I can also tell by the overheard comments and the general body language I’ve missed the target here.

I decide to stop wallowing in self inflicted criticism, turning away and walking over to one of the refreshment tables. I know two people who’d get what I went for in my paintings, Willow and Dan. Unfortunately for me, Willow’s working in Los Angeles right now filming… well, I don’t want to really think about it, and Dan’s at home. It’s my favorite time of day to spend with Dan too, the sun’s setting and the sky’s that golden orange that’s going to last only another half hour at most before everything settles in for the night. A lot of nights, it’s the best time to talk with him, he’s tired and his personal demons are whipped back for a few hours at least. He relaxes more, and I’ve been able to talk with him more. Tonight though, we’re going to miss it, and that sucks.

Justin comes up, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, you look upset.”

Again with the physical contact… Jesus Justin, you’re not my boyfriend. And you’re playing up the whole acting thing a bit too much for me. Still, I don’t want to cause a scene, so I just shrug his hand off and turn away. “I just wish I’d maybe chosen some happier pictures or something more straightforward. I feel like nobody understands what I was going for with those pieces.”

Justin hums, nodding. “I’ll be honest, I don’t get them either. Uhm, they’re kinda dark and just… I don’t know. They’re not very Lakeville Days I guess. Maybe they’d do great in like a rock star’s studio or something, like if Metallica made their own recording label.”

Great, Justin. The best way to get on an artist’s good side is to compare them to one of rock’s most jeered at bands because they sold out and went so over the top mainstream. Smooth. Next thing you know, you can compare me to the Backstreet Boys or N’Sync.

“I understand,” I reply tightly. “Listen, I’m just going to walk around for a minute, mind giving me a little space?”

“No problem,” Justin says. As I step away, he calls out after me. “Hey, don’t sweat it. I mean, I’ve had a few real estate deals that didn’t go the way I planned too. You just keep going to the next one.”

I nod, walking away and circling the common as I try to listen. It’s harder here than in a gallery, most of the folks in the crowd now know what I look like. Still, a lot of folks are either ignorant or just talking loudly enough that I can overhear them. And the words aren’t flattering. Dark. Weird. Fucked up.

I sigh, shaking my head. I wish I could explain to everyone how I actually like Lakeville, and how I see the beauty even in the things that a lot of the locals might not. How, despite some of the ugliness tossed my way, I really have enjoyed my time in town, and how I want to give back as much as the town’s given to me.

I sigh again, knowing it won’t really matter. I see Bobbi Valentine looking over my main picture along with a couple of her little knitting circle, and I don’t need to hear the words to read the looks on their faces. They’re probably already forming their letters to the Lakeville Chronicle saying how it’s an insult to the town and how I obviously don’t understand Lakeville culture.

Whatever. Dirk comes over, a commiserating smile on his face. “I see you’re not happy with the reception.”

I shrug, putting on a tepid smile that tries to say I’m untroubled by it all. “I’m an artist, Dirk. At least I’m not starving, and I’m used to being eviscerated by the critics. It’s sort of what they do.”

Dirk hums, turning to look at my nearest painting. “I like them, personally. Sort of reminds me of my time in the service, and how we put up with a lot of shit but still got good memories out of it. Guess some folks don’t understand that anymore. Now, I’m not saying the town’s gonna buy one to stick up in my office-”

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Dirk, you ever want a pic from me, I’ll custom do one for you. Twenty bucks a linear yard of canvas. Figure I can do a life size portrait of you for about, oh, fifty bucks or so?”

Dirk thinks, then nods. “Not of me, I’m of the opinion that people who order their own portraits are either incredibly important or incredibly arrogant, and I’m certainly not the first and hopefully not the latter. But maybe we can talk next week.”

There’s a sound of horns from the loudspeakers, and Dirk looks up. “Ah, that’s the sound for the dance to begin soon. If you’d do me the honors later?”

“I’d enjoy that, Mr. Mayor,” I reply with a little grin that Dirk returns. He walks away and I look to melt into the dimness near the edges of the dance area when Justin seems to appear out of the darkness, his face broken out in a wide smile.

“Hey Chrissy, you ready?” he asks, offering me a glass of lemonade. I take a sniff, and decide that it’s okay enough to drink, not spiked, and sip at the tart summer classic.

“Ready for what?” I ask, and Justin waves his hand towards the dance area. “You serious?”

“Come on, it’s an easy way to stab the rumors in the heart,” Justin says, looking at the grassy area eagerly. “I’m not saying you need to slow dance the night away with me, but a couple of songs will help a lot.”

Dammit, he’s right. But he’s not the person I want to be dancing with, especially with Justin not understanding the concept of personal space all that well. “Fine,” I relent, “but I promised Dirk a dance too.”

The band takes the gazebo and starts warming up, and Justin takes my hand. “Of course. Now relax, this’ll be a lot of fun.”