Page 38 of You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty
“I’m so glad Nasir brought you to our attention,” she said, as they walked through the space. A small, mirrored room was being constructed for Feyi’s piece, an eight-foot cube. “I very much look forward to seeing your work installed completely. You’re sure two days is enough?”
“More than enough,” Feyi replied. Rebecca was impressive, almost six feet tall with acacia skin and finger waves smooth on her skull. Feyi tried not to think about how good the woman would look next to Alim. Maybe they’d already hooked up once or twice, his body aubergine against Re-becca’s flushed brown. The image sliced into her, and Feyi pushed it aside. It was foolish, careless even, to indulge in that kind of emotional cutting, over what? Some old man on a mountain? Nah, the work was the only thing that mattered. The work was the only thing that could matter. She was glad that the lunch with Rebecca that Alim had proposed when she first arrived never happened; she didn’t think she could stand to see them together. Somehow, she just knew they had a wealth of laughter between them.
“Excellent.” Rebecca stopped by the doors and smiled at Feyi. She was much warmer than Feyi had expected, even kind. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll see you at the walk-through before the private opening, okay?”
“Sure. And thank you so much, Rebecca. This—this means a lot to me.”
“There’s no need for thanks. You made the work. You earned your spot here.” She left the room, fragrance wafting behind her, and Feyi turned to look at the exhibition space. They were staggering installs so none of the artists would be in each other’s way, and several pieces were up already, draped for protection. It was nerve-racking to be showing on such short notice, and despite what Rebecca said, Feyi couldn’t help but feel like she was here as a favor to Alim, not even a direct one but a secondhand one through Nasir at that. She’d tried talking through some of the shame with Joy, but her best friend had shut her down.
“Get into the rooms you need to be in so your work can do what it needs to do,” Joy had said. “Someone helped you, and so what? You know how many of these white kids are out here with art careers because their parents hooked them up? You better show up and show out, bitch. I can’t believe I’m having to talk a Nigerian into this, of all people.”
Joy had been right, of course, and now it was Sunday evening and the private opening was on Wednesday, the opening proper the day after. Feyi had all her outfits lined up, Nasir was being a fucking sweetheart, and everything should have felt perfect. She kept waiting for her feelings to click into their allotted places, but apart from the grim determination to show her piece as it should be, the only other thing Feyi could access was a twinge of sadness that she didn’t have time to delve into. Too much dark water under thin ice, old currents. Jonah would’ve been so excited to be here. Her nails dug into her palm as she forced herself to breathe. He was always with her, but it wasn’t suffocating her the way it had that first year or two. Now she had somewhere to channel the endless grief when it flared up. Now she could put it in her work.
That had to be enough.
• • •
When Nasir picked her up from the museum, Feyi was exhausted from whipping her thoughts into a neat line.
“You sure you don’t want me to help?” Nasir asked as he started the drive back up the mountain. “You being hella secretive, even for you.”
Feyi patted his forearm. “I want you to see it when it’s all up. And it’s only a few days now.”
“Fine, I’ll wait. Like everyone else, huh?”
She laughed. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”
His profile was caught in the evening sun, and Feyi felt a pang of guilt at how supportive he was being. “Thank you for driving me up and down for this,” she added. “I’d rent a car, but this other-side-of-the-road shit is way over my head.”
“No need to thank me,” Nasir replied, turning his head to shoot her a smile. “Also, I was talking to Lorraine about your install. Why don’t you crash with us tomorrow night at the family house? Just till your piece is up.”
“See!” Feyi sank her face into her hands. “I knew you were tired of driving!”
“Nah, it’s not even like that. I want you to see the house, that’s all.”
Feyi looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Lorraine’s house?”
“It’s not her house, it’s the family house.” For a moment, Nasir looked years younger. “It’s the house I grew up in. Dad wanted to sell it once, but we wouldn’t let him.”
“Why not?”
Nasir shrugged. “Lorraine and I don’t have a lot of memories of our mom. The house helps us remember.”
Oh, shit. Feyi straightened up in the passenger seat and tried not to think about Alim. “Yeah, I’d love to see it, Nasir. You sure Lorraine’s cool with it?”
He frowned. “You worried about Lorraine? What’s good?”
“Nah, I just don’t think she really fucks with me like that.”
“Oh, that.” Nasir shook his head as he made a turn. “She can be spiky but fuck it. We’ll have some drinks and y’all will be cool in no time. She just has to get to know you.”
Feyi wasn’t so sure, but she didn’t say anything. Nerves wound a tight ball in her stomach at the thought of seeing the house where Alim and Marisol had loved each other, made a whole-ass family together. She forced herself to take a deep breath and let it go. Everyone had old lives. Somewhere in the blur of the past was a different Feyi—Jonah’s wife, a walking ghost. And now she was here, watching thick green roll past the car window, on a strange island with a man driving her up a mountain to his father. The ocean licked the land below, and Feyi closed her eyes, living for a brief moment only in the salt of the breeze.
• • •
The next morning, Alim walked out into the driveway, barefoot and wearing a linen robe over his pajamas, as Feyi and Nasir were about to leave. Feyi tossed her backpack into the car and didn’t look at him. They hadn’t spoken since the day they watched the sunrise together, other than a few polite words that Feyi forced out in response to his greetings. She wondered if he was surprised by her new reticence, but he probably didn’t even care. It was like he said, there were boundaries, and she was just keeping to them. Being a polite guest and whatnot.
“I hope you enjoy seeing the family house,” Alim was saying to her, his espresso cup cradled in his palm.