Page 3 of The Art of Vanishing

Jean

The room burbled to life as it always did; every day here was the same in that no two days were ever completely alike.

Tourists wound their way through gaggles of local school groups; museum members popped back in to check on their old favorites.

Children tugged at their parents’ hands, eager to show them a secret treasure they’d discovered in one of the paintings, something best viewed at their eye level.

Afternoon turned to evening and the gallery emptied of its patrons.

I could hardly believe my ears when they caught Linda’s distinct bellow and the rumble of her bucket heading in my direction.

Claire was coming back. I shifted in my seat, struggling to find a position that didn’t make me appear too eager.

I leaned forward, forearms on my knees, trying to balance my chin in one palm, crossing and uncrossing my right leg over my left, before giving up and settling back into the way I always sat.

My spine curved in a way that would make a chiropractor shudder.

Butterflies hammered against the inner walls of my stomach.

I worried I might pass out. I was making myself nauseous over a girl I hardly knew, and one I would certainly never be able to speak to.

I was practicing what I would say in impossible future conversations, inventing questions she’d undoubtedly be eager to ask me, imagining the compliments I’d give.

This was ridiculous. I was losing my grip on reality.

I’d seen her for a mere hour the night before, had heard her speak a hundred words, and none of them to me.

My self-chastising had shifted into high gear by the time she reentered the room.

The result of my anxious fidgeting had ironically left me in exactly the position I’d inhabited all day.

Linda, of course, was with her. The awkward cobwebs of last night’s conversation were nowhere to be found; Linda was orating with the stamina of a waterfall. Linda was quick to turn strangers into friends. Claire soaked it in silently, nodding where appropriate, laughing without making a sound.

“I didn’t even wait to hear his side of the story.

I put the baby, Didi, she was just a baby at the time, in her stroller and packed a single bag with enough diapers and food to get us through a week and put us both right through the door.

I actually forgot my coat and had to go back to get it.

I was literally burning with rage. I didn’t even feel the cold when I was out init. ”

“There wasn’t anything else you wanted to take?”

“There wasn’t anything else I needed.”

“And how old was Didi then?” Claire asked.

“She couldn’t have been any more than two.

She was so cute then, all baby babble and curly hair.

All I really wanted was for her to be safe.

I didn’t know how I was going to do that, but I knew I’d make it true, no matter what.

” Linda plopped down onto the bench. “When you have kids, you’ll get it. ”

Claire laughed shyly. “What did you do then?”

“So, we walked to the nearest bus stop and we took it all the way to the depot at the center of town and we got on the first bus that was heading as far away as we could go. It took us to Philly. I’d never been to Philly, never even thought about going to Philly, but it seemed like as good an option as any.

We went to the cheapest hotel I could find within spitting distance of where the bus had dropped us off, and I paid in cash for two nights.

The next day, I went down and asked for the manager and he said, ‘What can I do for you?’ And I told him it wasn’t about that; it was about what I could do for him.

I bet him that I could clean a room better than anyone else he had on his staff at the time and that he should let me show him.

He agreed, slow day, and I ran circles around his staff. ”

“Well, you’ve got a gift. One I don’t seem to have,” Claire said as she accidentally sloshed the water from her bucket all over the floor.

“You just gotta think about it as a big picture,” Linda said as she pushed herself to her feet, walking over to take the mop out of Claire’s hand. “It’s not about this one spot, it’s about seeing the whole space and knowing how what you’re doing here affects how it’s going to look over there.”

“Sounds like painting,” Claire said.

“I knew it! You are an artist.” Linda snapped her fingers at Claire.

“No, no.” Claire gently pushed Linda’s hand away. “No, I’ve never done any art. I just admire it from afar.”

Linda studied Claire. “You’re a tough one to crack, aren’t you? But I’ll get there. I always figure people out.”

“I’m nothing special,” Claire replied. “Nothing to figure out here.”

I begged to differ, and I could tell Linda agreed with me. There was something about Claire that was prepossessing, something that left you wanting more.

“Okay, we’re still at your first gig—the shitty hotel,” Claire prompted.

“Right, well,” Linda continued, “that’s how I got my start—in hotels.

I stayed in that dump probably longer than I needed to because they let me keep Didi with me all day long.

I’d stick her on top of the cart and push her from room to room and she loved it.

But I knew I could make more if I went somewhere swankier.

I kept moving up but the better the pay and the tips got, the more disgusting the people got too.

“By that point, I had friends in the business. A few of them had taken more private jobs—cleaning houses for just one family or whatever, but I was ready to be as far away from the whole people-thing as possible. So, this place was the perfect fit. I never take the day shifts anymore; I’m the best they got and they let me have my pick.

So I stick to the night shift. You get used to the weird sleep schedule.

And it’s so much better in here with no people. ”

“It’s magical, having this whole place to just us,” Claire said.

“I guess,” Linda said, “but mostly, I like how fast I can work when no one else is around. No people one step behind you, mucking up your clean floors. Total control.”

“Do you train everyone?”

“Yup, all the newbies go to me first. I’m the only one who can handle it without any change to my normal load. Plus, I think they trust me to tell them if someone is a dud.”

Linda said that last sentence without any specific weight to her voice, but Claire picked up the pace. What Claire lacked in grace with a mop, she made up for in gusto.

Linda concentrated on her phone screen for a while as Claire looped and swirled her way across the gallery floor.

“Got any siblings?” Linda called out.

“Nope,” Claire said.

“Any other gigs?”

“Just this one, right now.”

“And you live with your man?”

Claire stopped in her tracks. It was then that I noticed, for the first time, the ring on her left hand.

The ring itself had aclassic look. It was not particularly large, but it was a legitimate-seeming gem.

Something about its place on her small hand made her look even younger.

She spun it around her finger by the stone; the band was a bit loose on her and moved easily in a circle again and again.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Linda’s hand flew over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have assumed it was a man. Partner?”

“I live with my grandma,” Claire said. Her jaw was set tightly now.

“She gave you that rock?”

Claire looked down at the ring, her mouth twisting to theside. She opened her lips, but no words came out. Linda shrugged and Claire turned back to her mop.

With Claire’s concentration glued to the ground beneath her, I took another chance to study her.

It was a difficult game, dressed as she was in the museum’s janitorial uniform, which betrayed nothing about the world she came from outside these walls.

Her nails were painted but the skin around them was raw; she picked at them.

She had woven her hair on top of her head in a new bun, this one so large it threatened to pull her whole neck to one side.

Her shoes were scuffed white sneakers, little to remark on except that everything about her felt remarkable to me.

She was young, maybe a few years older than me. But she had an intensity about her that said even though she appeared quiet, she would be a worthy opponent if threatened.

Why did I feel somewhat comforted by Claire’s complex relationship with the piece of jewelry on her hand?

Styles may have changed, but I remembered what a ring on a woman’s finger had meant in the outside world.

I’d never gotten to that stage myself out there, placed into this world as I was before I’d even turned twenty.

But I’d seen my fair share of proposals in the gallery—lovesick people getting down on one knee, asking their partners to spend the rest of their lives with them.

I felt foolish for caring. Whatever Claire thought about the someone who had given her that ring should be none of my concern.

They wiped away the tension. Linda taught Claire to dust the chairs, sanitize the benches, and spray the windows with a toxic-looking blue liquid.

“They hire real window cleaners to keep these things clear; we’re just here to remove thumbprints and forehead marks and whatever other nonsense from people touching the glass; who knows why. ”

Each night for the rest of the week, they repeated this routine.

They entered in a tandem trundle; Linda plopped down mere moments later.

Claire grew more comfortable managing the cleaning process on her own each day.

And every night, Linda was back, determined to get more than Claire had been previously willing to give.

“So, you’re from around here?” Linda asked, swiping at the rainbow fruit that combined and combusted across her screen.

“Sort of,” Claire answered.

“Ever tried anywhere else?”

“I’ve actually never left the state,” Claire said casually.

“Seriously?” Linda’s hand holding her phone dropped to her side. “Why not?”

“We didn’t have the means, growing up.”

“What about now?”

“Now…” Claire considered. “Now it’s just too complicated.”

Incredibly cryptic, as always. Claire was like a puzzle to be put together, little pieces scattered, meaning very little until they were assembled, and I longed to be the one who assembled them.

It didn’t bother Linda. “I’m going to miss you, kid,” Linda said, “when you start taking this room on solo. I don’t mind your company. Even though we’ve been doing this for days, and it still feels like I don’t know a single thing about you.”

“There’s not much to know.”

“That’s what people with really interesting lives say.”

Claire laughed lightly, like she hadn’t really committed to the laugh. “Not me. I think I’m still trying to figure out what my life is supposed to be.”

“Said like a true young person.” Linda smirked. “You can’t wait around for life to reveal what it’s supposed to be. It just is what it is. And if you want something else, you have to take it.”

“Well, I’ll always be just a gallery away,” Claire said. “You can come find me when you need a little chatter. And you know I’ll probably still have questions for you after tonight.”

“Yeah, I know you will.”

“Thank you for teaching me all this stuff. I know you don’t normally have to start with the basics like this.”

“Someone taught me once too. Plus, I realized you were going to need all the help I could give you to actually keep this gig.”

“I’d have been lost without you.”

“I know.”

The women made and held eye contact for a moment longer than what I’d expect of two erstwhile strangers. “Come on, let’s go have a cup of shitty break room coffee. My treat.”

“I thought it was free?”

“Shhhh, don’t ruin the moment.” Linda wrapped her arm around Claire’s delicate shoulders; standing almost nine inches taller, Linda was quite literally taking Claire under her wing. Claire awkwardly hobbled along next to her as the two made their way out of the gallery.