Chapter 11 Sophia
Sophia
Henry bit his fingernails as his eyes darted around the gallery, horrified by every perceived slight.
He always got like this when an event would draw crowds to the gallery.
As a perfectionist, he needed everything to be flawless.
On days like these, I just had to go along with what he needed to prevent him from having a panic attack.
Today was one of his worst days, but luckily for me, Emma was here to help out.
I had hoped the extra hands would calm him down.
“Sophia!” Henry yelled. “I can’t reach this.”
He was standing on his toes, trying to pull down a giant canvas a grade school class had collectively painted on. I ran over to him with a step stool and set it down next to him.
“Here, Henry, step up.”
He climbed on, grunting irritably, still barely able to reach the painting. His fingers nudged at the sides until he got a grip on it. He pulled it down gracelessly with a plume of dust and cried out.
“I needed you here three nights ago, Sophia. I really hope you leaving to do your new boss’s job doesn’t ruin everything.” His tone bordered on cruel, but I knew he was just passionate.
“Don’t worry, Henry. We have plenty of time to finish up. Emma is dusting. She’ll get to this area once we’re done here.”
He walked away with the giant canvas in hand, muttering about how embarrassing it would have been if he had forgotten to remove the painting.
As if the gallery were some prestigious museum and today’s visitors were high class.
Some of the people coming were probably parents of the kids who made the art he disparaged, but thoughts like that were far from his mind.
“Sophia!” he called again from his office, where he had taken the painting.
I rolled my eyes and yelled back, “Just a moment.”
Emma was on her hands and knees collecting dust bunnies from the space between two display cases.
“Thanks for helping. I owe you one,” I said.
Emma sneezed. “No, don’t mention it. I’m actually kind of entertained. Is that bad?”
“A little,” I replied.
We laughed silently as I made my way to Henry's office. He had his hands clasped behind his back, pridefully staring at his own work on the wall. He glanced at me with an eyebrow raised and said, “Which of these pieces do you think we should put up in place of that awful canvas I just pulled down?”
I looked at the collection of paintings in front of him. I personally wasn’t a fan of his abstractions, but there was one that seemed somewhat fitting.
“What about this one?” I pointed to the canvas covered in a series of colors, yet holding no clear image.
He stepped closer to it. “Hmm, yes, perhaps. You have a good eye, though I was leaning more toward this one.”
He pointed to the painting he finished a couple of days ago. Another abstraction, a blocky, flat silhouette of a man and a woman at the beach holding hands.
“How did I not realize that was the perfect choice!” I said with forced enthusiasm. Henry doubting himself was the first step toward an anxiety attack, so whatever he thought was right, I was going to support today. He looked at me with soft eyes and a half-smirk.
“This painting captures the essence of my heart.” He said.
I held back a laugh with a smile but almost lost it.
I wasn’t laughing at him, but sometimes his quirks were just too much.
He saw my smile and sank into it with a big smile of his own before taking the painting back to the gallery.
The chime of the front door opening barely reached me in his office as I sat down for a break.
“Sorry, sorry, you have to leave. We are closed right now. Come back in a few hours,” Henry frantically said.
The other voice was quieter, and I couldn’t make out the words. “I understand, but we are very busy. Please leave. Oh, but come back later,” he added as the door closed behind the visitor.
The gallery was silent. Whoever that was wouldn’t be coming back.
“How about you take a break, Henry,” I heard Emma say.
“I can’t take a break,” he said with shrill finality.
I slowly closed the door to his office, hoping that if I were out of sight, I would be out of his chaotic mind.
I sank into a chair and let myself rest. All day I had been pushing away the thoughts, fears, and hopes Gabriel inspired.
Being busy made it easier to distance myself from them, but I couldn’t fully escape.
My phone vibrated, and I pulled it out of my tight back pocket.
It took a long moment for me to realize what I was seeing.
The words on my screen seemed like an arrangement of strange symbols with no meaning.
But there was meaning. There was heart-sinking, fear-crawling-up-my-spine meaning.
Cabana Cup was cutting all my hours for the next month.
I gritted my teeth as all the puzzle pieces came together.
The owner had me train his daughter for the past few weeks, and now that she could run the place, he was giving her my hours, and all the tips I would have gotten during those hours.
The tips from peak tourist season made all the difference, and now they were gone.
“Great,” I angrily said to myself while tossing my phone onto Henry’s desk before burying my face in my hands.
I made my way to the gallery, hoping to distract myself from yet another problem. Henry was lecturing Emma while she sat on the step stool, scrolling on her phone.
“Today’s event is one of the most important events of the year, as you know. When people are on vacation, they want souvenirs. They want art. So let’s get back to work and make sure everything is in order.”
Emma rolled her eyes at him. “Okay, okay. I’m just taking a quick break,” she said with a tired tone. Henry scoffed and disappeared behind rows of display cases as I sat on the ground next to her.
“Am I going to get paid for this?” Emma whispered to me.
“Probably not, but I guess it depends on how Henry feels at the end of the day.” Emma sighed and grabbed a broom.
“So, how have things been going with your new boss? I still cant believe he’s the same asshole from Cabana Cup.”
“It’s been... interesting.”
“Interesting?” she asked.
“To say the least,”
She must have noticed the shift in my mood and asked, “Are you okay? What happened with him?”
What didn’t happen with him.
I sighed. “Nothing. It’s just that Cabana Cup basically just fired me.”
“What? That’s so messed up. What are you going to do?”
I waved a hand at the display cases. “Well, half of the art in here is mine, so after Henry gets his cut, if I make just three sales, I should have enough to cover what I lost from Cabana Cup for a month or two.”
I couldn’t tell Emma about what Gabriel did or the raise he offered me. She would probably be happy for me and see it the same way as him.
Emma’s eyes widened. “Hey, remember Henry said if you finish your new painting by the end of the month, he would count it as rent? Let’s go paint at the beach tomorrow. I know a perfect spot.”
“That sounds like my only choice right now.”
“It will be fun. Everything will work out,” Emma said before Henry snapped his fingers at us.
“Ladies, enough chatter. Sophia come help me get this painting up.”
Emma walked away from us, dragging a broom behind her. I climbed the step stool with his odd beach silhouette painting in hand and put it on the shelf where the grade school class’s painting had been.
“Perfect,” he said, standing back to examine his work.
He checked his wristwatch, and wiped his forehead. “We have less than thirty minutes!”
He was vibrating with nervous energy as he began rushing around the gallery, checking everything over again. He ran over to Emma, who was sweeping by the front door.
“Emma, is there something on my face? In my teeth? Do I look good?” His voice was shaky, and I could tell he was trying not to hyperventilate.
“You look fine, Henry. Everything will go perfectly. Just take the time left before we open to relax in your office, okay?”
He looked around the gallery pensively while chewing his fingernail.
Then began breathing heavily while trying to make his way to his office.
Emma pressed her lips into a thin line as we exchanged glances before following him.
He collapsed in the corner of his office, doing his best to regain control.
He closed his eyes tightly and held up a hand at us as we approached, motioning for us to stop.
“Henry, you need to calm down,” Emma said softly.
She sat on the floor next to him and began talking in low, soothing tones, telling him about the sunny day outside and how much she liked the gallery.
I stood in the doorway, watching helplessly as Henry’s panic attack unfolded. Emma seemed to have things under control for the moment, but I knew if he didn’t calm down before the event started, I would have to take over.
“Henry, it’s okay. Everything is ready.” She paused, the look in her eye revealing her desperate search for what to say next.
“All the paintings are beautiful, everything is clean.” Her voice was gentle and soothing, and slowly but surely, his breathing became less frantic.
Emma looked up at me over her shoulder and gave me a sympathetic smile.
“I’m going to go up front and start turning on the lights. We should prepare to open soon,” I said.
“No,” Henry nearly shouted. I froze and looked at him in disbelief.
“It’s canceled. I’m canceling it.”
“What? Henry, the gallery needs money from these sales. I need this money. I can run the event. Just stay in here.”
“I said no. It’s canceled.” His voice cracked as he spoke.
“But Henry—” I began. I wanted to argue, to stress the importance of the event again, but one look at the trembling man told me it was over. He was too far gone in his panic to listen to reason.
“Great,” I said, throwing my arms up. “It’s canceled, and I’m fucked.”