Two By Two

“Composition?”

“Yes. Are you still doing modern?”

She nodded. “Sort of. I work in abstract realism.”

“You know I have no idea what that means, right?”

“Basically, I start with realistic scenes as a base, but mostly I follow the brush… adding vibrant colors or geometric shapes, or random splatters and swirls and drips until I feel that it’s done. Of course, a painting is never really done; I have pieces I’ve been tinkering with for years because they’re just not right. The problem is, I’m not always sure how to make them right.”

“Sounds very artsy.” I grinned.

She laughed, the sound exactly what I remembered.

“As long as it would look good hanging on most people’s walls and makes a person think, I’m pleased with the result.”

“Oh, just that?”

“That’s what the gallery owner likes to say when he’s trying to sell one of my pieces, so yes.”

“I’d love to see your work.”

“You can stop by the gallery any time,” she said. She gave me the name and I committed it to memory. “How’s Marge doing? I always wanted a big sister like her.”

“She’s doing well – still with Liz, of course.”

“The same Liz I met when we were dating?”

“Yeah. They’ve been together ever since. Almost eleven years now.”

“Wow,” she said. “Good for them. What’s Liz like?”

“Kind, and thoughtful and supportive. I have no idea what she sees in Marge.”

There was a glimmer of reproach in Emily’s expression. “Be nice.”

“You know I’m kidding. They’re a great couple. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen them argue. They just sort of go with the flow.”

“That’s a good thing. And your parents? Are they still working?”

“Mom retired, but Dad’s still at it full time.”

“Still working on his car?”

“Every weekend.”

“And your mom?”

“She’s now a member of the Red Hat Society, and she wants to plant tulips.” When Emily furrowed her brow, I told her about the week before.

“You know you can’t be mad at her for that. She already fulfilled her parenting duties.”

“That’s what Marge said. Marge wouldn’t help me either.”

“And yet, you got everything done anyway.”

“Marge said that, too.”

She let out a long breath. “It’s amazing where life has taken us, huh? Since we knew each other? Of course, we were just kids back then.”

“We weren’t kids.”

She smiled. “Are you kidding? Maybe, technically, we were old enough to vote, but I can definitely remember some youthful exuberance on your part. Like the time you decided to see whether you could eat that monstrous steak, so you could get your picture on the wall of the restaurant. How big was that steak again?”

The memory came back in a rush. We’d been out at the lake with a group of friends, and I spotted the restaurant sign just off the highway, advertising that in addition to my photo on the wall, there would be no charge for the meal. “Seventy-five ounces.”

“You didn’t even make it halfway.”

“I was hungry when I started…”

“You were also drunk.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Good times.” She laughed. She lingered before me before finally gesturing toward my computer. “But unfortunately, I should probably get going. You need to work, and I’ve really got to get that stuff shipped off today.”

I became aware of the fact that I didn’t want her to go, even if it was probably a good idea. “You’re probably right.”

She stood from the table. “It was nice seeing you again, Russ.”

“You, too,” I said. “It’s been fun catching up.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Later?”

“When the class ends?”

“Of course,” I said. “I knew that.”

As she used her shoulder to push open the door, I couldn’t help but notice that she glanced back at me and smiled before finally vanishing from sight.

I spent the next hour in the coffee shop researching on the Internet and was able to find two commercials for the law offices of Joey Taglieri, one of which was no longer airing. They were professional, informative, and, I had to admit, nearly the same as the kind of legal commercials I used to film. I also watched commercials from almost a dozen other law firms in town, concluding that, if anything, Taglieri’s commercials were no better or worse than any of the others.

Why, then, had Joey Taglieri thought of them as idiots?

If the commercials weren’t that bad, however, I still didn’t think Taglieri was getting his money’s worth when it came to the overall campaign. His website was distinctly out of date and lacked pizzazz, and a phone call to a buddy let me know there was nothing going on in the way of Internet advertising. Another couple of calls let me know that he didn’t advertise in print or on billboards either. I wondered if he’d be open to those ideas while doing my best not to get too excited.

A call to my office helped – there was zippo, nada, zilch in the way of messages – and after leaving the coffee shop, I collected London from art class. She proudly pointed out a bowl she’d made, and I waved at Emily on my way out the door. She smiled and raised a hand – she was talking to the teacher at the time – and after bringing London home, I was unsure how best to spend the next few hours until dance class. It was too hot to bring London outside, and her day was already so full, I suspected that she might simply want to relax and play for a while.