Page 35 of The Art of Vanishing

Jean

I expected night to fall suddenly, weighed down with anticipation, but the sunlight stretched on long after the final patron had shuffled out into their own world. Either this was the longest day of the year, or my anxiety was transforming seconds into minutes, or both.

The sound of footsteps froze my blood where it was in my veins; I could tell it wasn’t Claire.

Because I recognized the sound of her tread, I was not surprised to see Linda appear moments later, but I was disappointed.

I guessed this was all Linda’s domain now.

Oddly enough, she didn’t have her bucket and supplies with her.

She walked, empty-handed, toward the journal, and stood above it, transfixed.

Claire’s appearance in the doorway moments later startled both Linda and myself.

“Oh my god, Linda,” Claire said, her hand over her heart.

“I did not expect to find you in here. You don’t, um, we haven’t switched gallery assignments, have we?

” Claire’s voice was like music to my ears, sending my heart dancing around my chest. She was here, she was back. We were together again—almost.

“I’m sure Jamie explained that they chose to put this installation in one of your galleries,” Linda replied as she pointed toward the journal. I could feel the effort it took Claire to follow Linda’s gaze, to feign interest in the journal instead of looking straight at me.

Had someone ever been so familiar and unfamiliar all at once?

She was just as I’d remembered, just who I’d been picturing, but she was even more beautiful.

I studied the differences in her face. A light blue paper mask covered the lower part of her face; the dark circles under her eyes looked deeper than I’d seen them before.

The fluorescent light from the ceiling flickered off a few silver strands now woven through her hair, which was longer than I’d ever seen it.

It was tied in a simple braid down her back.

“She did,” Claire said. She peered over Linda’s shoulder at the pages beneath her.

“I asked, obviously, if she wanted to redo the assignments, as this piece is of high value and I’m the more senior of us.”

“Oh—” Panic flashed across Claire’s face. “She didn’t say anything about my taking on different rooms.”

“That’s because Jamie said that things would be fine the way they were,” Linda informed Claire. “But I let her know I would report back if I got the feeling there was need for a change.”

Was Linda jealous of Claire’s proximity to this shiny new object? Did she view this as a demotion?

“I’ll take good care of this space, as always,” Claire assured her.

“It’s my favorite.” Claire allowed herself one look around the room to illustrate her point, catching my eyes with hers for the briefest moment.

“I heard each page is only visible for one day,” Claire continued.

Linda nodded in acknowledgment. “If anything, it’s kind of cool that it’s so temporary and that we’ll get to be in here every day. ”

“If you’re into that kind of thing,” Linda replied.

“I think I am.” Claire shrugged. Linda patted her on the shoulder.

“You’re cute; I forgot that. I missed you, kid,” Linda said on her way out of the room. “Catch you in the break room later?”

“I owe you a cup of coffee,” Claire said.

“The coffee’s free, baby.”

“Exactly.” Claire’s smile hid a wink within it. Linda continued her walk to the staircase and out of sight. I forced myself to breathe.

From across the room, she finally looked me in the eye. “Hi,” she said, as she took the mask off her face.

“Hi,” I said back, knowing that to her it looked like I’d just mouthed the word.

She began to shuffle toward me, taking off in a full run after just a few steps.

I crouched down to offer her my hand as she hurtled herself into the painting, crashing into my chest instead of meeting my grasp.

I wrapped both arms around her and we lay there for some time, crumpled into each other on the floor.

“You smell the same.” She broke the silence with a laugh.

“Did you think that might have changed?” I asked.

“No, but nothing out there smells like you. I’ve spent months trying to remember what this was like.”

“You smell the same too,” I said, thinking I could bury my head in the space between her neck and her shoulder forever. To my dismay, she pulled away as she sat back, rising up straight.

“Jean,” she began. “I am so, so, so sorry for—”

“No,” I interrupted. “I’m the one who is sorry. If you only knew how many hours I’ve spent over the past months worried that would be how we left things forever. I never want to push you, Claire. I love you so much and I trust you and I don’t need you to tell me anything you don’t want to share—”

“But I want to,” she cut me off. “I want to tell you everything. I wanted to do it that night, as soon as I left. And I’ve just been waiting and thinking and planning all this time how to share it with you.”

“There’s no rush,” I said. “We have time again. You can tell me all of it; I want to know everything you have to say. But let’s just be here, together, first.”

She lay against me on the floor, exhaling a sigh she must’ve been holding in for weeks. I wrapped my arms around her. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to let go.

“So,” she said as she reclined into me.

“So,” I responded. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” Claire laughed a laugh filled with anxiety. “You mean, like, what happened happened?” She sat up to look me in the eye. I nodded apprehensively. “Oh my god, you actually have no idea.”

“All we know is all of a sudden, everyone was gone.”

“Okay, wow, I haven’t actually talked to anyone who doesn’t know—like, literally where do I start? Okay.” She gathered her thoughts. “So there was—I mean, there is—a global pandemic.”

“Mon dieu.”

“Oh my god is right. Basically, it blew out of control, like, super fast, and no one knew how it was spreading so they just…shut the world down. Only essential workers were supposed to leave their homes and everyone else just had to wait. It’s been a huge mess. So many people have died.”

“But you’re okay?”

Claire shrugged. “I’ve been healthy—thank god for that.

” I pulled her back into me, realization dawning about how lucky we were to have this moment.

“Jamie called last week to say you were reopening, and would I be comfortable coming back to work, and I actually started crying on the phone. I think I really freaked her out. Or maybe everyone is so freaking broken right now that she expected it.”

“I’m so glad you are healthy.”

“What’s life in here been like for you?”

“It’s been—” I wasn’t sure how to finish my sentence. “It’s been quiet. And loud. For a while, it was like every day was a party. Le Bonheur de vivre was going full steam, twenty-four seven. Even Marguerite was beginning to show signs of exhaustion.”

“No way.”

“Yes way,” I responded, as Claire had taught me to do.

“Did you join in? I know how you prefer your solitude but that’s a long time of just…you.”

“Mostly, I just missed you.”

“Oh, come on. I would have given up pretty much anything for this to be my quarantine location.” Claire sighed and continued.

“There’s this book I used to love as a kid about a brother and a sister who sneak into one of the big museums in New York City, I can’t remember which one, and they stay there overnight for like a week.

They sleep in the historic beds and shower in the fountain and eat out of the vending machines, and there was more than one day over the last few months when I caught myself picturing that life, but it was me, figuring out how to stay alive in this place. ”

“I wish you’d been here too. I wished that every day.” Something crossed over her face at my words. “What?” I probed. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, it’s just…I was kind of worried about you.

Very worried, actually. I knew how much my being able to be here blew your world open.

I was a little worried about how you’d feel when it sealed back up.

And anxious that maybe you’d think I’d chosen not to come back.

I worried every day about how we left things and if you thought I was just running away. ”

I hugged her tightly. I didn’t know how to deny her fears; I hadn’t been okay. So I didn’t say anything at all.

She reached her hand up into my hair and tightened her grip, strands locking into place between her fingers.

She pulled my mouth to hers and any words I might have said flew right out of my head.

Claire kissed me ravenously and I knew this was something she’d missed, just like I’d missed it too.

I slid my arms around behind her back, lifting her and lowering her down against the floor.

She lifted her leg and ran her heel up and down my calf, a move that inexplicably turned me on more than anything else. I began to lose control.

“Jean,” Claire said, pulling back.

“Yes?” I all but panted at her.

“We are literally lying on your living room floor.”

“It would be a first for me too.” She punched my arm.

“I’m not having sex with you when your mom or sister or, god forbid, Linda, could walk in at any moment.”

“Fair point,” I said as I scooped her back into my arms.

“I want to tell you everything,” she said between kisses.

“We have time,” I said. “After,” I promised. I stood and swept her out of the room, catching a glimpse of the plinth across the way.

“Oh!” I exclaimed. “We didn’t even talk about the journal!”

“After,” Claire instructed.

“After,” I agreed again as we raced off to somewhere more private.