Chapter Eight #3
Nisha and Bailey recap their takeaways from the meeting before we finally call it quits for the day. As we’re all packing up, Mr. Townsend walks through the front door in one of his signature suits.
“Mr. Townsend. Hi, uh, what are you doing here?” Dani asks.
He unbuttons his jacket as he greets everyone, his eyes never once betraying his thoughts.
“You mentioned your planning meeting tonight and I wanted to stop by and give you this.” He pulls a small envelope from the inside pocket of his blazer and holds it between us.
Our names are written in Tanya’s distinct handwriting across the front.
One of Tanya’s hobbies when she was younger was calligraphy.
She said she stopped doing it because she grew tired of people asking her to make them invitations and cards, but it always stuck with her.
The exaggerated curves around the H in my name and the D in Dani’s are eye-catching.
They almost connect as if they belong together.
“What is this?” Dani asks.
“It’s your first clue.”
Dani’s hand freezes midair, allowing the envelope to slip through her grasp. It lands with our names facing up, mocking us for our hesitation.
“Am I missing something here?” Mr. Townsend questions with his eyebrows raised.
I lean over to rescue the lost envelope from the floor, grasping it between my fingers as if it might disintegrate if I don’t hold on tight. My mind is swirling with ideas of what this envelope could unleash. I turn it over in my hand and Dani’s hand lands on top of mine.
“Stop,” she pleads. Her fingers start to tremble, so I shield them with my own. “Thank you for bringing this, Mr. Townsend. I just … I’m not ready.” She mouths the words “I’m sorry” to me.
For the very first time since meeting him, Mr. Townsend’s eyes soften as he takes in our hands and Dani’s gentle features.
“You can call me Victor. And I understand. You don’t have to open it right this moment.
But I wouldn’t take too long.” He leans in closer.
“I find the anticipation becomes scarier than the task the longer you wait.”
Nisha and Bailey walk out with Victor, plunging Dani and me into quiet.
I start to say something, but she rushes to cut me off. “I have an idea for our auction item I want to run by you.”
Interesting change of subject. “Okay. Hit me.”
“So, I think the obvious thing to auction off would be one of your paintings. You’ve done a portrait of her before, so this one would need to be an elevated version of that.”
I nod my head in understanding. “Okay, that’s great. But how does that involve both of us?” Tanya was very specific in her letter about wanting the two of us to create whatever we auction off together. Is she planning on standing in front of me so both of us can hold the paintbrush?
“I’ll be filming you while you paint. I can do it documentary style, so it focuses on you and your creative process, but also allows us to share memories and anecdotes about Tanya.
You can come with me to interview other people who loved her too.
I’m sure we’ll meet a bunch of them on this little odyssey she’s sending us on.
” She waves her hand toward the envelope still nestled in my hand with a look of torment written all over her face.
She seems to have this all figured out. It’s a great idea, one I think Tanya would love. Honestly, she’d probably want us to try to pitch the documentary to Netflix or something.
“What do you think?”
I take one more moment to think it over. “It’s brilliant. We can play your video at the beginning of the auction to open things up.”
“My thoughts exactly.” After she asks if I’d be willing to do a test run, she runs out to her car and comes back with a tripod and camera.
“Do you always travel with camera equipment on you?”
She doesn’t look up from her setup as she answers. “I actually meant to tell you my idea earlier but I got so caught up with the girls I forgot.”
Once her camera is in her desired position, she transforms into a veteran director, explaining how the shoot will go and what she wants me to do. She grabs a stool from the kitchen and forces me to sit down. I feel like I’m on an episode of Dateline.
“Why did you love Tanya so much?” Dani asks, once she calls “action.”
I glance off in the distance, my lips turning up into a smile. “That’s easy, she saved my life.”
I can’t see Dani’s eyes behind the camera, but I can tell my answer catches her off guard.
“Explain.”
“When Chi Chi—that’s my aunt Monica to you casuals watching—died, I was lost. I didn’t wanna paint anymore.
I didn’t wanna draw anymore. I didn’t wanna be a good human being anymore.
What was the point, right? You could spend your entire life doing good things and still get hit by a fucking car on a random Wednesday night.
Left on the side of the road to bleed out. It all seemed pointless after that.”
I let go of the hatred I had for the man who killed Chi Chi a long time ago.
He was caught months later and he did his bid.
At the time, I thought it was unfair that he got to go back to his life after three years when Chi Chi never did.
I still think it’s unfair, but I don’t hate the man.
Whenever I have to talk about how Chi Chi died, however, that anger seeps back into my blood for only a moment.
“You stopped painting?” Dani asks.
“I threw out all my art supplies. Stopped going to Our Place. Stopped giving a fuck. Some of my boys back then used to hit houses and cars, so I linked up with them. And then one day, my dumb ass hit the wrong fucking house.”
Realization hits Dani and she gasps. “No! You tried to rob Tanya?”
I grimace at the memory. “I got in and as soon as I turned my back, I felt cold metal on my side.” I hold my index and middle fingers up to my side as I’m talking.
I can laugh about it now, but I thought I was cooked then.
“She asked me if I wanted an open or closed casket and then she pointed the gun at my head. My boys had left me and all I kept thinking was, Please don’t let my parents find out about this on the news. ”
“What did you say?”
“I said I wanted to be cremated and for someone to mix my ashes in with paint and make a dope ass painting with me. That’s not even true. I mean, I do wanna be cremated but I don’t want my ashes to be mixed into some paint. I just said that shit, but you know what? It got her to put the gun down.”
Dani chuckles, alternating between looking at me and down at her camera. “How very afterschool special of you.”
“I know, right. She sat me down and we talked about art for hours. I didn’t wanna admit it at the time, but I had been longing for the peace art gave me.
Tanya said she wouldn’t press charges against me if I started coming to the rec center three days a week.
She saved my life. She was the one who encouraged me to make the mural for Chi Chi. ”
She taught me how to let go of the pain I was holding on to, how to channel it into something I could be proud of.
“Micah. That’s amazing.” Dani moves the camera from in front of her face, making sure I understand her words are for me and not the video.
“Thanks. I don’t think I ever told my parents that story.” I look into the camera. “My bad, y’all.”
Dani laughs before cutting off the video. We move to Tanya’s office for Dani’s test shot, working silently side by side to get everything set up once again.
I count her down and then press record.
“I’m here in Tanya’s office. She used to spend a lot of time here. So far, we’ve found some really cool things of hers that we think y’all are going to love.”
She keeps going, but I struggle to listen.
What the fuck is that?
Everything from the words she’s saying to the way she’s standing screams impersonal. I’ve seen her videos on social media—I know how lively she can be, and this isn’t that.
“Dani, I’m really sorry. Can I interrupt you?”
“What’s up?”
“It’s just …” I try to find the words to say what I know I have to say. “Are you gonna do these parts of the videos like this the whole time?”
Her hand finds its way to her hip, and I know I’ve fucked up.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you just seem sort of … stiff.”
“Stiff.” She repeats the word in that tone that tells me I’m close to death.
So why don’t I just shut up? “You sound like you’re a reporter doing a segment on someone you didn’t know, not a tribute for a dear friend.”
“Hmm,” she hums.
“I’m sorry. I just think you should relax. Maybe not treat it like it’s a project.”
As soon as I say it, I know I’m cooked. Her face turns cold, nothing but harshness in her eyes. I can see the muscles in her jaw bulging.
I brace myself for the verbal beating I know is coming when she surprises me. “Thanks for the advice, Micah.” Her smile is almost Joker-like in its fraudulence.
This is worse than I thought. “Right. No, you should ignore me. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“No, you’re absolutely right. Why don’t we switch? I’ll record a second story from you and then we can pick up on mine next time.”
“Uh, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” She brushes past me to reposition her camera.
Fuck.
It doesn’t take long to record my segment. I throw a proverbial dart at the wall of our memories and share whatever it lands on in my mind.
Once we’re done recording, Dani packs up her equipment and heads for the door.
“Wait, Dani.”
“Yes?” she says, turning to me with another fake smile.
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Right. But you’re clearly bothered.”
She looks me up and down, her dismissal rattling my bones. “Trust me, Micah. I’m not bothered.”