Do you want to meet at the party or drive over together?
I had been leaning against the handle of a mop in the museum, staring at a painting of an apple cut in half, its insides blue, happy to finally be released from the ticket counter, when the text from Elliot came in. I had kind of assumed that a date meant we were driving over together, but now that he was giving me an option, I couldn’t decide what I wanted.
The party was happening five days from now. I wanted to tell him that I changed my mind. That I did the Fourth of July on the pier. I watched the fireworks light sections of the ocean bright blue or green or pink. And I watched those same colors reflected in Cooper’s eyes. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? I had been doing the same things day after day and year after year and expecting different results. Who had said that was the definition of insanity? Einstein? Whoever it was had seen inside my head.
My thumbs were poised ready to type something back when Mr. Wallace came down the hall. “Abby, can you take a summer preschool group through the museum Saturday at four? It was a last-minute request and all my docents are busy.”
“Saturday?”
“Yes. I know you don’t normally do tours, but it would really help me out.”
Taking a group through the museum was like a dream job for me. Cooper had another race on Saturday. He’d texted me about it just that morning. It started at two, though. I just wouldn’t be able to celebrate afterward. “Yes,” I said. “I’ll be here.”
“Great. Thank you. Make sure there’s a blazer that fits you in the closet.” Mr. Wallace looked at the mop, the painting next to me, then my phone. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” I held up my phone. “My brain hit pause while it was trying to make a decision.”
He gave an agreeable grunt. “I hate it when that happens.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Mr. Wallace started to walk away. “I have two weeks left, right?” I called after him.
He turned with a confused face on. “No, the tour will be this Saturday.”
“Right. I know. I mean for the showcase. You’re informing applicants in two weeks, right?”
“Yes. But I thought we talked about this.” His face had a tired look that seemed to say, this is why I had banished you to the ticket counter—to avoid this conversation.
“I want a chance. I’m working on my depth.”
“I can’t imagine that in this short of time anything has changed enough in your technique that will affect my decision.”
“I just want a chance to prove myself.”
He sighed a heavy sigh, and it was probably only the super-pathetic pleading face that I’d put on that made him say, “I’ll take a look.”
“Thank you!”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Abby. You don’t meet my age requirement, and you have a lot of really strong competition.” With that he finished walking away.
It was a reluctant yes, but it gave me the hope I needed to continue on my quest.
I moved to put the mop back in the bucket when I realized I still held my phone with the open text window. I sent two texts. The first was to Elliot.
Let’s just meet there.
I was already changing something by going to the party in the first place. I didn’t want to feel trapped, though.
The second text was to Cooper.
Hey, I won’t be able to celebrate after your race on Saturday. I will be trying to convince four-year-olds that art is more interesting than snack time.
I tucked my phone away and dipped the mop into the soapy water. My phone buzzed against my thigh before I even had time to take it out again. I thought it would be Elliot, but it was Cooper.
You can’t even convince me that art is more interesting than snack time. How will you ever accomplish this?
Not sure. Especially when half the art is replications of food.
But you’ll still make the race, right?
For sure.
Thanks.
And I need to finish up my list and two more paintings.
Help me think of something else.
I’ll ponder it.
Have you finished your classic?
No.
Me neither, I texted.
Okay. I wouldn’t want to be stuck in a car with me either.
My brows went down in confusion before I realized I was reading a pop-up text from Elliot.
I responded. It’s not about that. It’s more about not wanting to be trapped at the party.
We can leave anytime you want.
My phone buzzed again before I had time to answer Elliot. What does epoch of incredulity mean anyway? Cooper was asking. I vaguely remembered that line from the beginning of A Tale of Two Cities.
Did you start over? I gave you the summary. Did you not trust my summary?
I switched back to Elliot’s text and answered. Okay, I’ll drive over with you. Do you have my address? It’s what I had originally planned anyway.
No, but if I’m going to read the book, I had to at least read that famous paragraph. I don’t do things halfway, Cooper responded.
Except chemistry projects. And English papers. And cleaning your bathroom.
Fine. Things I care about.
I smiled. He cared about the list. That made me happy.
Another text from Elliot popped up. I already know where you live. But I’m not a stalker. My best friend lives on your street and I saw you pull into your driveway a while back.
Who’s your best friend?
To Cooper I wrote: It’s a period of skepticism. Or disbelief.
You are. Why? Cooper wrote back less than a second after I had hit send.
I am? What did that mean? I was a period of disbelief? I kind of felt like I was going through a bit of skepticism right now in regard to him, but he couldn’t possibly know that. I looked at the text again. Oops. I’d crossed texts.
No, he really does. Ben Williams. Do you know him? Elliot responded to my skepticism text.
I sent you the wrong text. That was meant for someone else, I wrote to both of them.
Elliot answered first. Oh. That makes more sense. So I’ll see you Tuesday then. Eight o’clock?
Sounds good.
Cooper responded a few minutes later. Who was it meant for?
Elliot.
Why were you asking Elliot who his best friend is?
Because I want to know if he’s looking for one. I’m searching for a replacement.
Funny.
I thought so. Gotta run. This floor isn’t going to mop itself.
You’re mopping floors!? You’re out of ticket purgatory??
Yes! So happy!
You’re the only person I know who is happy to mop.
Shhh. Art.
BTW, good job on texting Elliot.
Yeah yeah.
When my shift was over, I made my way up the wide stairs with the glass half-wall railing and walked the halls slowly, trying to figure out which paintings and pieces to show the children I’d bring through on Saturday. We changed out the art all the time. There were very few pieces that were permanently housed here. It’s what brought patrons back time and again—new artists to see. But there was a permanent one that was always a hit with the kids. Mr. Wallace had hired a paper artist to come and create a flowing, swirling design made of paper that covered an entire corner of the upstairs hallway. It was three-dimensional and mesmerizing. That was a must-see.
We’d just gotten a modern art piece on loan, and I hadn’t had time to look at it until today. The kids might appreciate the bright colors and strong lines of the painting. We’d done an art workshop last summer, and I’d discovered that kids loved to paint with bright colors. Remembering those kids’ paintings, I had an idea.
I ran down the stairs and searched out Mr. Wallace. I stopped in front of him, breathless. “Could we display some of the kids’ art?”
“What kids?”
“The preschool group that’s coming through. Can you contact the teacher and ask her to bring by some of their drawings or paintings before Saturday, and I could hang them upstairs? I think it would be fun for them.”
“You’ll come in early and do that?”
“Yes, I will.”
“The children would probably like that.”
“Of course they would. Everyone likes to see their own art displayed.” I hadn’t meant to say that with a hard edge to my voice, but I did, and he noticed. I quickly finished, softer this time, with “I’d love to do that for them.”
He nodded. “Good idea, Abby.”
“Thank you.” Perhaps it was seeing those kids at the soup kitchen that made me think of it. Or maybe it was just that forcing myself to think differently was creating new ideas in other areas of my life too. Either way, I was happy I’d come up with it.
My phone buzzed in my pocket with an incoming call as I headed for the door. I waited until I was outside before I answered it. A breeze played with my hair and brought with it the scent of the ocean.
“Hello?” Instead of walking to my car, I took the path around the side of the building to the overlook. Two benches sat on the bluff, with a perfect view of the ocean below.
“Abby!” said a voice that sounded distant but excited.
“Hi?”
“It’s Rachel! I found a pay phone! Austria has pay phones!”
I sat down on the bench. “Rachel! It is so good to hear your voice. I miss you!”
“Remember how I wondered if I’d love living without my phone?” She sighed. “I don’t. Not at all. Thank goodness my parents weren’t right.”
I laughed. “Tell me everything.”
“Aside from the phone thing, it’s been pretty amazing, actually. You and your artist brain would absolutely love it. It’s gorgeous, and there is so much art everywhere. Old buildings and history and culture.”
“Have you been to Italy yet to find your cute Italian boy to make out with?”
“Italy was first, but it’s hard to make out in front of constantly hovering parents. There were lots of really hot Italian boys though, so flirting was accomplished. We need to come back here after we graduate. The four of us.”
“Four?”
“Have we shrunk since I’ve been gone? Or expanded?”
“Oh, right. Cooper and Justin.”
“Oh no, I’ve been gone too long. Everything has changed.”
“No. It hasn’t. We’re good. The four amigos.”
“Did you really just say that? You’ve been hanging out with your grandpa too much this summer, haven’t you? I can’t leave you ever again.”
“So true. I miss you,” I said.
“You too. So, seriously, anything new happening there?”
“Nope. Just art stuff.”
“Any word from Justin?”
“He sends pics occasionally. I think he sends more to Cooper.”
“Send him a text from me, will you? Tell him: This is an equal friendship circle—we all get the same things or no things. Don’t be the cause of our demise.”
“Wow, so dramatic.”
“He’ll think it’s funny. Plus it’s true.”
“So if we all get the same things, does this mean you’re calling Cooper next?”
She growled. “You’re right. I guess I do need to call him.”
“Do you want me to add something to your Justin text, like, I miss you? Or, I hope your work on the schoolhouse for the disadvantaged is going well?”
She let out a single laugh. “Yes, add: Thank you for fulfilling the quota of good deeds required per friend group all by yourself.”
“I will send it immediately.”
“I have to go. My parents are standing by a bakery of some sort across the street and waving at me with both hands. People are starting to gather around them, as if they need help. And if I have to call Cooper now, I don’t have much time.”
“Okay. Tell Cooper I said hi.”
“Okay . . . wait. Why? You’re still talking to Cooper, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
She took a relieved breath. “Okay, good. I’ll try to find another time to call you soon.”
“Okay, bye.”
“Bye.”
A loud click sounded in my ear and the line went dead. I smiled. That’s what I was missing—my complete group of friends. I couldn’t wait for her to get home. With Rachel gone for the last month, I had forgotten why I had never told her about my feelings for Cooper. Now I remembered, and I was glad, once again, that I hadn’t. We all had the perfect dynamic, and everything would be back to perfect when they got home. I sent off Rachel’s message to Justin and left.