Page 38 of Crystal Iris #1

Thirty-One

“The position of the artist is humble. He is essentially a channel.” – Piet Mondrian

“ Y ou look beautiful,” Aaron says when I come downstairs.

“Thank you.” He’s seen this dress before, I’m sure of it. I debated what to wear, but I knew I needed to put on a proper outfit, or he wouldn’t buy that I was taking this dinner seriously.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“You’ll see.”

We drive in silence for a while. I’m not recognizing the way the driver is going.

“Aaron, where are you taking me?”

“Do you not trust me anymore?”

Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the marina.

“What is this?” I ask as he motions for me to get on the boat.

“Dinner.”

“On a boat?”

“Yes. I wanted our last night to be… special.”

I hesitate. If this were anyone else, I would have walked away. But it’s Aaron. I do trust him. He helps me onto the boat.

“This is…” I look around as the boat drifts into the water.

“I should have done more when we were together. I should have done this before,” he tells me affectionately.

I know better than to say anything.

There’s a table set up on the deck of the boat, beautifully lit with candles. He pulls my chair out, and I can’t help but stare at him. The man I almost said yes to spending my life with. He looks handsome in his crisp white shirt and navy blazer.

“This is beautiful,” I tell him.

He pours us wine.

“To the one who got away.” He raises his glass.

“To the last fifteen years,” I say.

A waiter brings our entrée. I have no appetite, but even so, the few bites I take are delicious.

Aaron doesn’t seem interested in the food either.

I look around us, and then he stands up. “You owe me a dance.”

“What?”

He pulls out his phone, presses something, and slips it into his pocket. I recognize the song—the very one we had chosen for our wedding dance.

His eyes beg me. I stand up and take his hand.

He holds me close, moving with the song.

I let myself enjoy this moment with him, our last moment .

There’s nothing around us now, the city lights far away.

We dance, and tears form in my eyes. He looks at me and wipes them away with his thumb.

There’s so much history between us—so many memories, all muddied by my cowardice, my dishonesty. We deserved to part ways differently.

His lips brush mine, and for a moment, I let myself feel him, feel us. Before the kiss can intensify, I pull back.

“I can’t, Aaron.”

“Because of him?”

I nod yes.

He follows me to the edge of the boat.

“What’s the plan? Are you moving to Montana, or is he coming here?”

I hold tight to the railing .

“Aaron… I don’t want to?—”

“You don’t know. I can tell. I still know you better than anyone.”

“We’re figuring things out.”

“Are you going to abandon your career, everything you’ve worked so hard for? Give up art? For what? To live in a barn?”

“Aaron.”

His words… I don’t want to think about his words. Was he right? Would I be abandoning my career?

“Iris, I will always love you. I’ll always wonder what I did wrong, but I would really hate to see you give up everything for him.

Giving yourself up. I know how you feel when you’re in front of those paintings; I know how much you breathe history.

Please don’t forget who you are. Even if it’s not with me, I want you to have everything you’ve ever wanted.

It’s what I’ve always wanted for you, since that day you sat next to me in the cafeteria. ”

My tears fall, and I don’t know what to do. He comes closer and holds my hand. We continue looking out at the water. So much for being ready for the unknown.

My headache is back. It’s been back since Aaron dropped me off days ago. My insomnia hitchhiked.

I walk for hours, eyeing each painting like it’s the first time. I tell myself I’ll stay until I feel better; consequently, I remain—and my uneasy feelings do too.

I’m sitting in Monet’s gallery when a hand touches my shoulder.

“Hello.” James takes a seat next to me. Very close.

“Hi, how’s your research going?” I ask.

“Great. I’m currently on an Icelandic rabbit hole.”

“What interests you about the subject?” I didn’t realize I needed the distraction .

“Throughout history, featured not only in religious contexts but in folklore as well, the supernatural comes up again and again. Maybe the laws of nature we know aren’t everything that’s out there.”

I’ve learned this very lesson this past year. “Have you seen the Japanese print of a female ghost we have here?”

“I have not. I’m embarrassed to say, this is my first time here.”

“Where are you from?” I ask as I walk us to the artwork.

“New York. Long Island.”

“How do you like Boston?”

“It’s great. I feel like I’m around like-minded people here.”

”That’s what I love about this city. I feel understood.”

We stand in front of the woodblock print by Kitagawa Utamaro. “Here it is.” I pause, then ask, “How much have you written so far?”

“Of my book? Not much. I’m obsessed with the research. Sometimes I forget it’s for a book. I wish I could get a job just doing that—learning.”

“I found being a teacher comes pretty close to it.”

“I’ve thought about it, being a professor. I don’t know if I have the patience.”

“Not a lot of professors do. But it grows on you—the more you help, the more your patience grows too. Let me show you something else.”

We walk to another corridor, and I say, “This is a Mayan ritual vessel from around 740 AD.”

“Is that a baby?”

“A deity baby,” I tell him.

“Amazing.”

I smile. It’s nice having someone to talk about art—someone who doesn’t think an ancient serpent umbilical cord surrounded by dragon heads is anything but amazing .

“When you have pages ready, let me know. I’d like to read them,” I say before showing him a few more pieces I think he’ll enjoy.

Our tour puts me in a better mood, and I finally leave the museum feeling optimistic.

“Are you home?” Hoyt asks later that night over the phone.

“No, I’m on my way back from yoga.”

“The lawyers called. Aaron’s firm wants to meet. They’re apparently settling the case.”

“What does that mean?”

“They’re releasing the money—giving it all back.”

“Really?”

He laughs. “I know, it’s crazy. Maybe they just came to their senses.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I’m leaving tonight. I was wondering… should I get a hotel?”

“Oh… you can stay at my place… if you want. It’s not luxurious, as you know, but I cleaned it up. I don’t know if we’ll fit in the bed with a mountain of pillows, though.”

“I don’t care about that. I’ll sleep on the floor. Are you sure? You hesitated.”

“Of course, you just caught me off guard.”

“Okay, I gotta run. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I’m planning to meet Hoyt after my morning lecture. I’ve left my keys for him with the doorman.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, almost dropping my books.

“I wanted to see you, at work,” Hoyt says.

“I have to stop at my office really quick, and then we can go.”

“Not even a tour?” he asks.

“A tour?”

“It’s my first time.”

I laugh. “At Harvard?”

“At college.”

I smile. “That building over there is the library. This one, the history of art department. And that one, over on the other side, is where the real smart ones work—like Akira.”

We’re walking to my office when James comes over. “Iris?”

I turn around.

“I wanted to thank you. I had a great time yesterday.”

Hoyt is standing next to me. I don’t know if I should introduce him. I don’t even know how to introduce him , I realize.

“Oh, sure. See you tomorrow, James.”

“Your students seem to really enjoy your… classes,” Hoyt says as he watches James walk away.

“He meant the museum. I showed him around.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, he’s taking a couple of my classes. I was there, and we were talking—next thing I know, I was…”

“Giving him a private tour?”

“Are you… jealous?”

“Of him?” He brushes it off, but I notice the signs. I know the tells.

“James is… interested. He’s doing research. History nerd, like me.”

“Okay.”

Hoyt is quiet on our way to Aaron’s office. I hope it’s only because of the meeting.

“I’ll be at the coffee shop across the street. Meet me there when you’re done?” I ask him.

“If I get my money back, coffee’s on me.” He gives me a lazy smirk.

“Good luck.” I hope Aaron follows through with his words.

I’m lost in my book when Hoyt comes back.

“And?” I ask apprehensively.

“Looks like Aaron finally grew some balls.”

“You got your money back?”

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

“And some. The prick actually turned me a profit.”

“I can’t believe it. That’s amazing.”

“Can we go?” Hoyt asks, his tone sharper now. He’s mad about something.

“Were you not going to tell me that you went to him?” he asks before I even close the door.

“Hoyt, it was only dinner.”

“Right.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Of course I believe you. I trust you. Look, I’m not a jealous person. I just… need…”

“Honesty?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I feel like it was yesterday when I was the one asking for that.”

“How did you… convince him?” he asks me.

“We talked.”

“He told me you kissed.”

“He kissed me, but it’s over. Really over.”

“I thought it had been over between you two for a long time now.”

“It has. Only… I think he finally un derstood.”

“You know what he said? After he told me you two danced and kissed on a boat? He said, ‘Good luck.’ He said that after a couple years in the country, your soul will die, that you’ll blame me for it. That the art world you love can’t be bought.”

I let the words sink in.

“Iris, is he right?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. We have… no plans, Hoyt. I don’t know. Do you want me to move to Montana?”

“Iris! Of course I want you to move to Montana. I live there. I own horses and land. I’m… not a businessman like Aaron, or a history buff like James. I’m a fucking nobody. I’ve never even been to college.”

“Hoyt, I don’t care about any of that. I fell for you because of who you are.”

He looks away from me. I hate that I can’t turn him around, can’t grab his hand.

“Hoyt, I mean it. Aaron doesn’t understand because… this part of me, he never met.”

He turns to me. “What part?”

“The part that loves the countryside, the smell of grass, the taste of hot coffee in the cold mountain air, the part that loves the feel of a horse’s soft hair, the part that can’t wait to spend nights by the fire.

It’s all new to me, too. I don’t know if I can leave the city, my job, the museums. I honestly don’t know. But I’m willing to try. For us.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you’re away from what you love.”

I look him in the eye. “You are the reason I’m in love—with more than just art.”

He walks closer. “You…?”

“Yes, I think I knew it was love since my prism took me to you.”

He comes as close as he possibly can. “How am I supposed to not kiss you right now? ”

“I don’t think we’ll fit in my shower,” I smile, but I’m honestly considering trying.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“And go where?”

“Pack a bag.”