Manhattan Dreaming (17 page)

‘Washington, DC?'

‘Yes. Lauren, you need to know up-front that the NMAI in Washington is regarded as the mothership, although this building was the original base. And our research facility is in Maryland. I go there every month to attend the collections committee, where we decide on loans, donations and acquisitions. You should come with me to one of those meetings, and you'll also have a small travel budget to go to conferences and meetings out of town. So let me know if there's something in particular you're interested in attending.'

‘I've got a calendar of conferences and symposiums you can look through,' Wyatt offered.

‘Thanks.' I was completely overwhelmed by the opportunities I was being given, and finally truly grateful to Emma and Libby for forcing me to take up the fellowship.

Maria went right on with business. ‘I'd like to schedule a short-film festival for April next year.'

‘Oh,' I cut in. ‘I don't want to get ahead of myself, but do you think that we could have some Aboriginal short films from Australia in that?'

‘That's a great idea. Your exhibit will be opening in April, so that will be a good tie-in. Can you work with the film and audio people on that, please? Wyatt, can you take Lauren down to meet the team there?'

‘Absolutely.'

‘And the traditional dance social is on 18 October. Public relations will be in touch about the invitation list.' Maria spoke directly to Wyatt and then looked at me, busily taking notes. ‘Don't worry about the social, Lauren, there's no work involved. You just need to show up.'

‘And dance!' Wyatt added with a laugh.

‘It's all good, Maria, and I'm happy to help out. Not sure about the dancing, though.'

‘We'll get you in jingle dress, never mind about that,' Wyatt joked.

‘Jingle dress?' I was a little embarrassed I didn't know what it was.

Maria answered. ‘It's a dress worn at powwows. They have tin pieces in the shape of cones sewn carefully on them and they make a jingling noise when you dance.'

‘Right, got it. Not sure how good I'd be at jingling, but I'll give it a go.'

‘Okay, that's all at the moment, I think.' Maria ruffled through some papers on her desk. ‘Ah, that's right, Wyatt, I need you to take Lauren to the American Indian Community House to meet everyone. They're eager for an Aboriginal Australian exhibition and I mentioned we had Lauren on board and now they're excited. Sorry, Lauren, you know how it is when there's only one Native person around. Everyone wants a piece of you.'

‘Don't be sorry, it's the same back home. And we'll do the same to you when you come to Australia. I mean, if the fellowship ever becomes reciprocal.' I didn't want to commit the NAG to anything on my first week at work.

‘Great idea, I
definitely
think we need a fellowship down under.' Wyatt was impressed with that idea.

‘Also, Lauren, here's a list of some galleries around Chelsea that represent Native artists. It might be worth your while checking them out sometime. Just so you have an idea what the private galleries are doing and are into.' Maria handed me the paper. ‘Emma told me you were a workaholic, in a good way, of course. And so is Wyatt.'

‘Hey, I love my job is all.' Wyatt was defensive.

‘He's the only Native curator in New York. The rest are in Washington and Maryland.'

As Wyatt and I walked back to our office I read the list Maria gave me.

‘I know the galleries in the area well, Lauren. I can take you there if you like.'

‘Great!' I said, arriving at my desk and thinking about the next twelve months, full of interesting events, people and work. Doing all this with Wyatt was going to be fun. He was like my Native American gay male twin.

On Saturday I went to the Chelsea markets with Kirsten and Vikki, stocked up on fruit and vegies and then, while the girls grabbed a table at 202 for coffee, I raced into Eleni's and bought the extravagant ‘5th Avenue dozen' which comprised red velvet, Reese's, chocolate ganache and Oreo madness cupcakes. I would take some in for Wyatt and whomever else was working that day. After coffee I made my way down to the museum. When I got there, Cherokee storyteller Gayle Ross was enthralling the kids with the tale of how the turtle's back was cracked one day when some wolves decided to teach him a lesson for bragging about being a great hunter. The crowd of about thirty-five, including Wyatt, were hanging on her every word.

‘Do you organise this as well? I didn't realise storytelling fell into curatorial duties.'

‘Yeah, curator means “dog's body”, you know that. Nah, I'm here because I wanted to bring my friend Julian and his daughter Cindi. I thought they'd like it. Cindi's the one in the pink dress in front.' I saw a cute girl with pink ribbons listening intently.

‘And this is my buddy Julian.' Julian looked about six foot two, had thick black hair, deep blue eyes and muscles pushing through his tight grey T-shirt. He didn't look like your typical dad at story time at a museum. The other dads looked far more conservative and ‘fatherly'. I wondered if Julian and Wyatt were together, or if Julian was just one of those ‘sperm donor' dads for a female couple? It was becoming increasingly more common for gay men to father babies because they also wanted children.

‘Julian, this is my colleague, Lauren Lucas. She's from Canberra, Australia.'

‘I love Australia,' Julian declared.

‘You've been there?'

‘Two years ago – Sydney, Melbawne, Brisbayne and Uluru.' My god, he'd
actually
been to Australia
and
he knew to say Uluru. Not one of those Americans who got Austria confused with Australia or who thought it was too far away or referred to our sacred site as Ayers Rock.

‘I love the Ossie accent, it's wild.'

‘I love how you fellas say Brisbayne and Melbawne. It sounds funny.'

There was clapping as the storytelling session ended.

‘Looks like it's over. It was nice meeting you, albeit briefly, Julian.' I extended my hand.

‘Maybe we could have a coffee and share stories about Australia. I never got to Canberra but I'd like to go one day and check out the National Museum there – looks pretty awesome.'

‘Oh, it is.'

‘Can I get your number from Wyatt and call you sometime for a coffee?'

‘Okay, sure.' Coffee with Julian and talking about home a bit would be nice. I could brag about what Canberra had to offer.

My mobile rang about three hours later when I was back home, having a cup of tea with Vikki and Kirsten.

‘Hi Lauren, it's Julian, Wyatt's buddy.'

I was taken by surprise that he rang so soon.

‘I'd like to take you to brunch tomorrow in SoHo, if you're free.'

‘Um, yes, I'm free. Brunch would be cool.'

‘Okay, I'll meet you at Balthazar, say eleven?'

‘Eleven it is. I'll Google it and see you there.'

‘You realise that's a date, don't you?' Vikki said with a sly grin on her face as I put the phone down.

‘It's not a date, it's brunch.'

‘Brunch date, Balthazar. He's got style,' Kirsten said. ‘We like him already.'

‘You girls are crazy. He's got a daughter, and I'm fairly sure he's gay.'

‘Was he wearing a ring on either hand?' Vikki asked.

‘I didn't look. I'm sure Wyatt wouldn't have passed on my number if it was anything sinister or if he was married. He just wants to talk about Canberra.'

‘Oh god, as if that isn't a lie. Who on the planet wants to talk about Canberra?' Kirsten shook her head, laughing.

‘Well I do, thank you very much.' I took a bite out of one of the decadent cupcakes I'd bought that morning.

‘What are you going to wear?'

‘Why? If he's gay he's not going to care what I'm wearing.'

‘Are you kidding? He'll be more critical than if he were straight,' Vikki said emphatically.

‘And if he's
not
gay, then you'll still be hot. It's good to have all bases covered,' Kirsten said, catching crumbs in her hands from the cupcake she was devouring.

‘I'm wearing jeans.'

‘Casual, good idea. Don't want to make too much effort too soon, give it the take-it-or-leave-it approach.' Vikki spoke like a woman who knew her dating fashion requirements.

‘It
is
the take-it-or-leave-it approach. Now stop it.'

‘She's here one week and she's got a date.' Kirsten sounded jealous.

‘Stop it.'

‘Jeans, that's good, and a cute top,' Vikki said.

‘And slingbacks,' Kirsten added.

‘You girls are totally mad.'

I woke the next day looking forward to brunch at the fancy French cafe, Balthazar. I found my way to Spring Street in SoHo and was seated in one of the maroon booths before Julian arrived. A waiter brought me a glass of water and I ordered a bowl of cappuccino. I'd never had a bowl of coffee before, but I had come to expect the unexpected and to be shocked by nothing in New York City.

My mouth watered reading the breakfast menu. I didn't know there were so many ways you could order eggs. Even though I could've had Eggs Benedict or Eggs Norwegian, Eggs Florentine, or Eggs en Cocotte, I knew straight away that I had to have a Soft Boiled Organic Egg with ‘soldiers'. A breakfast tribute to my childhood in Goulburn.

I watched two men across the room devouring a seafood platter, though it was still early morning, then looked to my left and recognised the Australian author Lily Brett, Libby's favourite author. She had soft, wavy, brown shoulder-length hair and matt red lips with a warm face. I wanted to meet her and pulled my camera out automatically. I went straight over, no shame at all.

‘Excuse me, are you Lily Brett?'

‘I am,' she said.

‘I hate to interrupt but I'm reading
You Gotta Have Balls
and my friend adores you and would kill me if I didn't get an autograph or a photo.'

‘That's very sweet, of course.'

I asked a waiter to take the pic of Lily and me together, as I tried not to smother her by getting too close. People were starting to watch now and I was embarrassed that I had drawn attention to both of us.

‘Thank you, thank you. My friend will be very jealous.'

Lily smiled and I went back to my table just as Julian walked in the door. He threw me a wave, swaggering over. He wore a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt that showed off his tiny waist and broad shoulders. He was built like Adam, only taller.

‘Good morning, Lauren. You look beautiful,' he said, sliding into the booth on the other side of the table. I looked down at my cute top and jeans, and thought to myself that I did indeed look beautiful.

When the waiter took our order I asked for my eggs with soldiers.

‘That sounds interesting, I'll have the same,' Julian said.

The waiter took the order and walked away.

‘So, Julian, what do you do when you're not eating eggs?'

‘I'm a personal trainer. I run boot camps in Central Park and Washington Square Park, and I train in gyms as well.'

‘Your little girl Cindi, she's a cutey.'

‘She looks like her mom.'

‘Is she with her mums –' I slipped up, assuming his sperm-donor-dad status – ‘I mean, with her
mom
right now?'

‘No, she's with her grandparents. Her mother, my wife, died four years ago, cancer.'

‘Your wife,' I said, surprised, and then checked myself. ‘Oh, that's terrible. I'm so sorry to hear it, that's awful.'

‘It's hard on Cindi, because she never got to know how wonderful her mom was. But she spends Sundays with either my folks or Jenny's folks, so she's surrounded by love all the time.'

‘So the trip to Australia, you took Cindi with you?'

‘No, I was emotionally exhausted and depressed. I took the trip to learn how to breathe properly again after Jen died. It was hard and sudden.'