Under the Surface (25 page)

“
I don
’t know about
the galleries. Getting someone to display my work will be difficult, but I can show
you what I’
ve done
later. It
’s set up in the studio.”

“I would love
that.”

My dad looks
pleased. “Anyone ready for dessert? Emmy, I’m looking forward to those
brownies.”

We all say
yes.

“And coffee
and tea too?”
My dad asks.

“Yes! But
please, let
me
be the one to make the coffee.”
Emmy tells him.

“
Fine, fine. Let
’s go
get everything ready.”

My dad takes
off to the kitchen. Emmy gets out of her chair to join him, but looks to me to
check if I’m okay being here alone without her. I nod as a yes and she joins my
dad in the kitchen.

Ellie and I
both awkwardly look at each other. Neither knowing what to say.

“How did you
meet my dad?”
I decide to ask.

“A mutual
friend of ours introduced us. Mary Frank, she works at the specialty foods
store, Steinman’s.”

“Oh, I know
Mary. Her husband taught me sixth grade.”
I haven’t seen either of
them in a while. My dad always says good things about the two. “Does he still
teach at St. Michael?”

“He does. And
Mary is working as the manager of Steinman’s. She still does a lot of baking
there, but she’s really happy with her new position.”

“Did she set
you up on a blind date?”
I can only imagine how uncomfortable my
dad would have been going into that situation. He hadn’t dated since being with
mom.

“They did. It
was more of a double date slash blind date. We joined the two of them for
dinner. Things didn’t quite kick off though at the start. I was fresh into
dating, after ending a long relationship, and your father wasn’t sure if he
wanted to see anyone. After the date neither of us contacted each other. It
wasn’t until I ran into him a few weeks later that we decided to give dating
another try. And now we’re here.”

“Brownies,”
Emmy exclaims as she rejoins us at the table.

“
Tea
,
Ellie
,
”
my dad places a mug in front her. She blows gently on it before
taking a sip. “Mmm, passion fruit tea, my favorite.”

Emmy has a
cup of coffee in her hand, she sips it with delight.

My dad gives
me a glass of milk, in my opinion a much better combination with brownies than
coffee or tea. My father agrees too, he got himself the same drink.

Emmy leans in
close to me, “Do you think they’ll notice these were made from a box?”
She asks with a hint of amusement.

“Mmm, yum.” I
hear Ellie say. “Emmy what’s the recipe?”

* *

“This is incredible, Ren. How long did it
take you to get all these pictures?”
Ellie asks me as she
finishes taking in the display.

“A little
over seven days in total. But that was spread out over a few weeks of shooting.
I wasn’t with him every day.”
I must have gone through
hundreds of frames when I was shooting Charlie. It took that many for me to
come up with the seven that I liked the most.

It surprises
me that I was able to find that many different pictures, but I knew, no matter how
long it took, that I wanted to end up with seven final photographs. One to
stand for each day of the week.

“A friend of
mine owns a gallery in Connecticut. She’s always looking for new work to
display. It’s not always photography, sometimes sculptures, paintings, and so
forth. You should bring in your work. She would love it.”
Ellie says.

Does she
really think this will stand up in her friend’s gallery? That would be a dream
to have a real display. I still remember the thrill I would have of going to one
of my mom’s shows. I would watch people fawn over her work and admire her
skill. She was a master of her craft, and I knew when I was a kid, if I could
acquire just half her talent, I would be happy.

“You think
so?”
I reply.

“Absolutely.
I could give you her phone number, and you could call her and ask to set up an
appointment. She loves meeting new artists. She has one weekend each month
where she only displays fresh talent. The photographs would only be on display
for a day or two, but it would be great exposure.”

Just one day
would mean the world to me. I would finally have my work up in a real gallery
—
not a makeshift one in the back of my dad’s house.

“Thank you,
Ellie. I’ll be nervous as hell to show my work to your friend, but that would
be awesome.”

“She’s going
to love it. This is exactly something she would like to show. Trust me.”

Emmy was
right, I wasn’t the only person who felt what I did was amazing. She’ll have to
go with me when I show my work to Ellie’s friend. I just hope she likes it.

I turn my
head to see her reaction to this, but she’s no longer in the gallery with us.

“Where’s
Emmy?”
I ask my dad.

“She stepped
out for a second, she had a phone call.”

As he says
that, Emmy comes back into the gallery, tucking her phone into her pocket.

“You look
happy,”
she says.

“Ellie was
just telling me that her friend owns a gallery in Connecticut. She thinks she
might want to display my work. Put it in a real show.”

She beams at
me, looking as excited about the potential as I am.

“Does she
come look at his pictures? Or how does this work?”
Emmy asks Ellie.

“He would
have to set up an appointment with Ray. She’ll look at what he’
s
done
.
”
She brings her attention to me. “Bring past work and this project
of course, and she’ll decide if she wants to give you space in the gallery. I
do have to warn you though, she has spaces booked up weeks and months in
advance. It might take a while to get your work on display.”
She cringes ever so slightly at that last statement.

But I don
’t care how long it will
take.

For something
I want this badly, I can wait.

* *

I leave my dad’s house with promises to
see him at Thanksgiving dinner next week. I extend the invitation to Emmy. She
was taken aback by the inclusion, but I knew there was no way I was letting her
spend Thanksgiving on her own. She would spend it with me, my dad, and a shit
ton of my extended family.

As we get in
my car Emmy’s phone rings.

“
Hello?
”
She answers.

I drive in
the direction of Providence, while she takes the call.

She doesn’t say
anything for a moment.

“
Hello?
”
She asks again. “
Hello?
”

She hangs up
the phone in confusion and a bit of frustration.

“Who was
that?”

“I have no
idea. The same thing happened earlier. I got a call from this number I don’t know,
but nobody talked on the other line. I thought the person had the wrong number
before. But now that they called and hung up again, I think it’s a prank or
something.”

“People still
prank call?”

“Yes,
grandpa. People
still
prank call.”

I laugh.
That’s the first jab at the fact that I’m older than her. It’s only two years,
which is nothing at all, but I know Emmy’s been waiting to make a joke out of
it.

“Do you think
you know who it is?”

“
No clue.
”

“If they call
again maybe look it up.”
I suggest.

“I probably
just won’
t answer.
”

I change the
subject. “You excited about Thanksgiving?”

“Excited
isn’t the word I would go with. More like nervous. Or scared, or I’ll probably
be sick that day.”

“How ‘bout,
you don’t have an option to skip it. I don’t want you spending Thanksgiving by
yourself. That would just be…sad. It would kill me to know that you’re spending
it alone. It’s such a family and friends holiday.”
That makes me wonder something. “How did you spend holidays in the
past? Like the major ones.”
Please don’t say you spent
Christmas alone. Please.

“Since I
moved here, I would spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with Noel’s family. I
spent the first Thanksgiving here alone, but after that it was with her family.
I always felt though…that I was intruding. Everyone was really welcoming and I
loved all the Vietnamese traditions her mom did, but it was almost as if I
didn’t fit in with the family atmosphere.”

The image of
Emmy staying home in her apartment on Thanksgiving kills me. And of course she
felt like she didn’t fit in. Emmy’s never had a stable family setting in her
life.

“What were
holidays like in Nevada? What area were you from again?”

“Henderson.
And they were okay. I spent it with some of my dad’s family. That was the usual
routine. I was never close with any of my cousins or aunts or uncles. They were
all cold towards me. My dad didn’t exactly come from a warm and loving style
family.”

“That’ll all
change next week. The Warrens are a bit crazy with their affections. And I know
all my aunts will love you. So will my cousins, and fuck just about anyone who
meets you will like you.”

And it’s
true. I already knew I would invite Emmy to Thanksgiving. My dad and I spoke
about it on the phone a few days ago. He said he told his sister I was probably
going to bring someone, my girlfriend, and my aunt almost fainted in
excitement.

My dad then
went on to say that he told my grandma, on my mom’s side, about my new
girlfriend. He said she was asking about marriage…good lord that woman jumps
fast. That reminds me of the story my mom told me of when she introduced my dad
to her parents. They all asked if they were engaged—they had only been dating
for two months. The
no
my parents gave them was quite upsetting.

* *

“I think the last time I took a bath I was
twelve.”
I say to Emmy. She’s sitting across from me in my tub. Our legs
are both scrunched up and slightly tangled.

Emmy’s hair
is wet and pushed back from her face. We ended up here after Emmy joined me in
the shower after getting home. The shower turned into sex, which ended in Emmy
asking if I wanted to have a bath. If felt like an odd request after taking a
shower, but I didn’t mind.

“Have I
mentioned how happy I am that you have a tub? I almost didn’t pick my last apartment
because there was only a shower.”
She pushes some of the
bubbles in the water around with her hand. She brought bubble bath over to my
place one night. She said it would go to waste at her apartment. “Close your
eyes, Ren.”

I do.

“Okay, open.”

Emmy now has
a makeshift beard made out of the bubbles. I burst into laughter. She joins me,
nearly tearing up at how funny she looks. “I’m Santa. Ho, ho, ho, children.”

Now I’m
crying. Emmy wipes the beard off as our laughter settles down.

“I’m just now
starting to understand all the benefits.”
I tell her, referring to
having a tub. I reach to pull one of her legs out of the water. Massaging her
foot gently before working my fingers over her calf.

“Oh yes,”
she says, leaning her head back. “This definitely has multiple
benefits.”

I take in the
view of her. Head tipped back, breasts on display just above the water, and so
much more of her hiding underneath.

In her sated
moment I ask. “Emmy. The scar on your back, where did you get it?”

I think I
know how she got it. I haven’t said it out loud yet, and neither has she, but
the signs are there.

She opens her
eyes and lowers her body more into the water. Covering herself.

Her cheeks
tint the slightest shade of pink. She’s embarrassed of her answer.

“It’s from
your dad, isn’t it?”

She closes
her eyes and nods once.

Even though I
knew that was the answer, I needed her to confirm it.

“That’s why
you left. That’s the real reason.”

She nods
again.

“How long did
it go on?”

“Too long.”
She speaks so softly and pauses. “It wasn’t all the time, but that
doesn’t make it any better. He only hit me on his really bad days
—
when he drank too much and lost himself in his anger. Sometimes he
was normal, but only sometimes. And normal for him didn’t equate to normal for
everyone else. I would always find excuses to not be home. I didn’t have a lot
of friends growing up, but even if I was somewhere alone, it was better than
being home. I almost dropped out of high school so I could leave earlier. I
contemplated it for a while, but knew I needed to stick it out until I
graduated or I would really fuck things up for my future. The day after
graduation I was gone.”