Find Me I'm Yours (12 page)

I hung up and ran to the shower. FUCK, it was freezing. The klepto stole all the hot water, too!

I tried to wash off all the shock, helplessness, betrayal, and rage, but it was hard to do when the warmest water running down my body was my tears.

DAY 4—NIGHT

I almost blew off the gallery, but having gone to all that trouble to do my nails, combined with the thought of being in near proximity to my contemptible roommate, I ran out of the house faster than paparazzi chasing Justin Bieber.

I searched for Coco among all the arty hipsters at the Madelyn Evans Gallery, and spotted her across the room with Mark, in a circle of girls surrounding him like he was a rock star.
Yeah. He was gonna be interested in me.

I just couldn't go up to them yet, so I decided to look at his work first, buying some time to rev up some anti-shyness courage. I made a sharp left and headed to the far end of the gallery. Framed and hung on stark white walls, Mark's highly stylized, emotionally charged images made my heart ache, but in a good way. Looking at his work online didn't do justice to what I was treated to live and in person.

One piece was an exquisite, timeless photo of a little black girl in a red dress standing on a tailor's platform looking up to the heavens while the tailor, in suspenders and bow tie, and balanced on one knee, looks straight into the camera—the viewer, me—measuring tape dangling from his hands and draping on the floor. An older woman in a bold green dress surveys the scene as she sits on a Naugahyde couch, surrounded by a large American flag on one side and an oversized turtle on the other. So evocative, so full of feeling, but not dictating the emotion, leaving that up to the viewer, me.

It occurred to me right then and there that maybe the reason I hadn't felt moved to make any art recently was because drowning in loss and feeling, my emotions had gotten the best of me and I was
too
raw to put them out there. Of course for most artists, this would be the ideal time to express.

But even in happier times before Jason and I broke up, I couldn't imagine me/my work exposed in public, on a gallery wall like this. It felt too revealing. It made sense why I stayed small. Small works on my small Collage a Week website and in my tiny zine.

Before I could go any further with self-analysis of my stunted art career, Coco appeared with Mark.

“Hey, girl,” she said as she hugged me.

I looked at Mark and said, “Your work is really beamed in. Really phenomenal.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. Of course he was as adorable as could be. “Coco says you're an artist, too.”

“Well, I wouldn't say—”

“Of course you would,” Coco interrupted, then turned to Mark. “Her work is stellar. Just wish she'd do it more.”

“Yeah, you and me both,” I joked.

Mark laughed. “It's hard to be disciplined with so much going on around us all the time.”

“You mean like your roommate sleeping with your ex, your brother getting busted for selling pot at your grandmother's senior citizens' complex to pay for an abortion because he knocked up someone named Velocity, and being sent on a treasure hunt by a random stranger who could be a sociopath?!” I almost said, but didn't.

“Hey, the gallery closes soon and a group of us are gonna get a drink at AKBAR,” Mark said. “Will you guys join us?”

“Sure,” Coco answered.

“Sorry, I can't make it.”

“Mags will be there, too. We'll catch up with you.”

Mark smiled at us both and disappeared into the crowd.

“What's with you tonight?” Coco asked.

“I just got some really disturbing news from my brother.”

“Is he OK?”

“I'll tell you about it tomorrow. And AKBAR? Really? Why would I want to go to the scene of the crime?”

“Oh, fuck me,” Coco said, “I forgot that's where Jason hooked up with Amanda.”

Some hipsters came a bit too close to our conversation, so Coco pulled me away and outside.

“Enough. You're not gonna let Jason stop you from anything anymore. We're gonna face this head-on together. You're coming with me.”

Coco practically dragged me to AKBAR. I walked in bracing myself, but thankfully Amanda wasn't working. I breathed a little easier as we went to a dark area in back, and about ten of us squeezed in around two Moroccan-tiled tables. Sitting on low vinyl seats, it was like we were all on a crowded subway together. Cheesy 8 × 10s hung on the wall, mostly of people I didn't recognize except for the guy who hosts
Jeopardy
and El Vez, the Mexican Elvis.

Every girl there was fawning over Mark. He kept looking at Coco and smiling, then she'd nod over to me and he'd smile at me, too. The back door was open to a side street. Ceiling fans spun, sending blades of light flickers along with the shadows of cars passing by—a veritable light show. I felt like I was in New York. Damn. Of course that made me think of Cooper again.

I stood up and said, “Sorry, I have to go.”

Coco dragged me to the ladies' room first. “I know you have a lot going on tonight, but you're giving Mark the impression you're not interested.”

“Who cares? He's so not interested in me. In fact, it seemed like he was checking you out!”

“Me?” Coco yelped. “He's like a brother. He's just a flirt to everyone, that's all. Talk to him for a minute before you go. I'll have him walk you out.”

“Whatever, just don't force it.”

We left the bathroom and I waved goodbye to the strangers I was sitting with. Mark came outside with me. “You have a way home?” he asked sweetly.

“I'm walking. I only live about five blocks or so.”

“OK, now I KNOW you're from New York. The only place we walk in L.A. is to our cars.”

We both laughed. Warm. Nice.

“Well, again, huge congrats on your awesome show. I'm sure you'll sell every piece.”

“Thanks. Whoa, wait.” He stopped. “What do you have going on here?” He took my hand.

I felt flushed. Maybe he
was
interested in me?

“That is fucking brilliant,” he said, examining my iPhone photo app nails.

Oh. Maybe not.

“Hey, wanna get together Wednesday night?”

Wait. Maybe.

“Uh, sure.”

“I could show you some great places online to show and sell your work. I'd be happy to help.”

Oh. Maybe not.

But at this point, perhaps the best thing I could do was focus on my work instead of the countless other things that kept me in a constant state of distraction and crying way too much lately. I'm such a sap, I'll weep at Hallmark commercials, or if I see an old lady with a crooked wig on. But weeping is different from crying, and enough was enough.

“That'd be great,” I answered, date or not, and actually felt a real smile form. We put each other's numbers in our phones, then hugged goodbye.

Jason who?

DAY 5—AFTERNOON

“Rectum? I damn near broke 'em!”

Yeah, that was the punch line to another moronic joke Malcolm was telling—thankfully to Jeff and Frannie in the next cubicle instead of Coco and me.

And since neither of us were about to be sent anywhere on location any time soon, I started the day with my own fishing trip.

“So, did Mark say anything about me?” I asked Coco. “Is he going out with any of those girls that were all over him last night? I'm so not his type, am I? Should I just cancel Wednesday night? I mean, is it even a date?”

Coco sucked on her cinnamon toothpick. “Stop thinking so much! As long as it stops you from going after Jason for a 3peat, what does it matter? Besides, he could help with your career.”

“I have a career?”

“You could if you put as much energy into making art as you do into trying to find a husband! Trust me, getting married early isn't all that. Don't make the same mistake I did.”

“Are you saying Blake is a mistake?”

“I don't mean it that way—it's just that we should have waited longer—been with more people first. You should, too.”

“Fine. In nine days at exactly noon, if Mr. WTF is not the one, and I'm still alive,” I added for Coco's benefit, “I promise I'll chill out about marriage.”

“Good. So, are you gonna tell me about your brother?” Coco asked.

I did. After the whole story all Coco could say was, “Wow. Velocity?!”

“Yeah, I know.”

Malcolm walked by us and we both immediately went back to being busy.

I did my best to focus on work rather than everything else I could have been focused on.

Everything Else I Could Have Been Focused On

By Mags Marclay

1). Cooper. And Grandma Dotty's reefer-smoking senior citizen neighbor, and the fact that if I couldn't help Cooper come up with a way to get $500.00 LEGALLY, I'd soon be an aunt.

2). Jason, wrapped in my handmade quilt. The Sacktress, wrapped in my ex-boyfriend.

3). Mark. Adorbs, charming, and off-the-hook talented. Either a date or a sympathetic artist trying to help out. Either way, I guessed I'd find out on Wednesday.

4). Mr. WTF. My “sole mate,” who by now might have ridden off into the sunset with a Victoria's Secret
S
model
S
, leaving me CLUELESS.

I hadn't paid attention to the hunt since yesterday morning at Sole Mates Shoe Repair, so after a little research, I came up with a mighty fine plan, if I do say so myself. I told Malcolm I was finally taking some initiative and pitched him a story for “Beyond the Mason Jar” about overly used, so 2013, food truck weddings. I said that Coco and I would go and take pics and collect scrap… THAT AFTERNOON! And he didn't have to send us anywhere exotic. He went for it, which meant that Coco had to as well! I high-fived myself on that supah-smooth scheme!

While Coco drove, I Googled the DELHICATESSEN TRUCK and found their site.

www.DelhicatessenTruck.com

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No dog with a polka-dot tongue, no Delhicatessentruck
LA
.com. Their schedule showed they'd be in front of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, which was perfect because there are always a lot of trucks there, and we could actually take pics for Malcolm. Sometimes there's just one parked in some random location—like the grilled cheese truck on Cahuenga in front of Vivid Entertainment, one of the biggest porn production companies in L.A. Apparently even porn stars like cheesy comfort food.

As we headed south on La Brea, Coco took a deep breath and finally opened up. “Blake's been talking about wanting us to move back to Chicago.”

“What?! Seriously? Are you going to?”

“Honestly, if I thought it would bring him out of his funk, I would consider it. But what if he just brings all his shit back with us and pulls me down with him?”

“Well, L.A. can be a really harsh place if you're trying to make it.”

“Exactly. He did have more success with his music in Chicago, but isn't that just giving up? What, things get hard here so just run back there? I'm not feeling it.”

We were driving west on Wilshire now, and saw about twenty trucks lined up.

“I'm totally not feeling it for you either, but that could just be selfish, wanting you to stay here.”

“Whatever, we'll figure it out. But in the meantime….”

She pulled into a parking space. I put quarters in the meter, courtesy of Coco's change dish, and then we headed down the block past waffles, ribs, cheesesteaks, tacos, sliders, lobster rolls, kabobs, and ice cream. From Japan to Pittsburgh, representing.

As we crossed the street to another block full, someone abruptly and loudly shouted “HELLO!” Coco and I literally JUMPED. When we turned to see who it was that scared the shit out of us, we saw a parrot on a leash on a fence. As we kept looking for the DELHICATESSEN truck, we circled back and heard a loud “HI!” Of course, the parrot again. I was tempted to keep going back and forth to see how many greetings it might know. “HOWDY!” “HOLA!” “WASSUP!” “YO!”

Finally, two blocks down, we saw it.

NOW WHAT? I had no idea what to even do. We walked up to the window and I called out to the man cooking in the truck. “Hi, I'm looking for this guy…” I whipped out my phone and showed him a screen shot I'd captured from Mr. WTF's video. “Or”—I swiped to the next pic—“this dog.” The dog with the polka-dot tongue.

The cook, probably in his thirties or forties (I don't have a clue how to ever tell someone's age) with a soul patch on his chin, said, “Nope. Neither of them look familiar. Sorry.”

He saw how dejected I was. “But hey,” he added, “here's a bowl of Chicken Tikka Matzo Ball Soup for each of you. It's on me.”

I lapped it up wildly, like I hadn't eaten in days. Oh wait, I hadn't. “Thank you, this is delicious.”

“Totally awesome,” Coco praised.