Chapter Ten #2
We walk through a few more pieces and installations, her takes on each growing more refreshing and captivating as we go. I brought her in here to try to get a peek at how her brain works. How she views the world and how she thinks the world views her, and I gained plenty of insight.
As we walk out of the gallery area and down to the ballroom, I enjoy the way she openly admires the space.
“This is really nice. So you rent this out for events?”
She knows this because Bailey told her, which is how the idea of hosting Tanya’s gala here came to life, but it occurs to me that she’s never actually seen it. She hasn’t been here since the quiet disaster that was opening night, and even then, she never made it this far into the building.
“Yeah. A few organizations have rented it out, and we’ve used it for workshops for kids and families, including some of the children from Our Place.”
Having the space to explore their interest in art at Our Place gave them the confidence to share those interests with their families and get them involved. Chi Chi’s legacy lives on in them and all the other kids finding their way because of Our Place.
Dani looks at me with a tight-lipped smile, her eyes shining with something unsaid.
“What’s that look?”
“Nothing,” she says, moving her eyes around the ballroom again.
“Something.”
“You stay tryna be in my business.”
I am. I’m not ashamed of that, though if she really wanted me to stay out, I’d respect her wishes.
“You’ll have to get some shots here. Tanya lives in the very bones of this building,” I say.
“How so?”
“Tanya was a not-so-silent investor.”
Surprise etches its way onto her features, not at the fact that Tanya invested in me, but that she didn’t know about it.
“Yeah. My art was doing really well for itself and the Baltimore Collective was already established, so I was ready for this step, but Tanya didn’t want me to front all the capital myself.”
That earns a wider smile from her. “And what were her not-so-silent conditions?”
I chuckle, thinking of the many contributions she made over the years that I pretended were too grandiose but always appreciated. “You know Tanya. She always had something to say. Some grand idea.”
“And they were grand,” she adds.
“Very. We hosted a Bridgerton ball here one year. That was all her doing.”
“Aww, I love Bridgerton. I wish—” She cuts herself off before she can say she wishes she had been there. Because she could’ve been.
I never would’ve stopped her, but once again I’ve inadvertently stepped on one of the bombs of our past.
“I know she came in full Bridgerton garb,” she redirects the conversation, and once again I let her.
Thankfully, after the awkward moment at Spring House, we were able to bounce back and enjoy each other’s company on the way to BMA, even if it wasn’t a long ride.
When we get there, Tanya’s assistant wastes no time escorting us to her office. Her space is as vibrant as she was, teal and gold prominent throughout all the tiny details, incense in eccentric-looking diffusers, and her desk clear of anything except a statue of two linked hands.
Her back wall is covered with photos. In all the time I knew Tanya, she was never without someone under her wing.
She loved to pretend she was this mysterious widow, but everyone knew her heart was ten times the size of her body, and her photo wall of every kid she mentored only proves that point.
She took care of so many of us; most of us have her to thank for our success.
Staring down the rows of people who went on to become famous in their fields, I’m reminded of her impact.
Dani sighs beside me. “I keep wondering when I’m gonna walk into a space that was hers and not lose my breath.”
“If grief was easy to measure, people wouldn’t be nearly as afraid of it.”
Sometimes, there’s no rhyme or reason to the things that trigger us. I think Tanya’s loss has the power to change the trajectory of our course entirely.
Dani takes a deep breath before trailing her fingers along Tanya’s desk and walking to the other side of it.
“What do you think she wanted us to find here?” she asks, eyes roaming.
“The note said we’ll find her life where we find her art. Maybe she just wants us to go through her stuff. See if we learn any secrets about her.”
We have no idea where this scavenger hunt will take us, only that the possibilities are endless, which in Tanya-speak means we could end up anywhere in the world for all we know. Our first clue was the note Victor gave us from Tanya about art imitating life.
She snorts. “Even on her deathbed, she was the most dramatic woman I know.”
“My junior year of college, I applied for this fellowship in New York and I didn’t get it, which was fine, except I lost out to a guy in my class that I hated.
When I bitched to Tanya about it, she sent a string quartet to my place to play sad ‘get over it’ music. Drama wasn’t on her, it was in her.”
Dani stares at me with wide eyes before doubling over with laughter. “I’m sorry, but that’s funny as fuck. Did you let them play the whole song?”
“I mean.” I pause. “Yeah, they were really good. But still—”
Her sharp laughter stops me short and it just keeps going.
“Aight now.”
“I’m sorry,” she says between giggles.
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m not.”
I start looking through Tanya’s bookcases, picking up a random pen to throw at Dani when I hear her giggle again.
“Ha, look at this.” Dani holds up a letter for me.
It seems that Tanya liked to keep her desk clear in favor of shoving everything inside the desk drawers, so Dani and I are sitting on the floor across from each other going through each one.
I scan the letter and then read through it thoroughly three more times to make sure I’m not seeing things.
“Is this a love letter?”
“Yep,” she says around a smile.
“From Prince?”
“Prince.”
“Thee Prince?”
“The artist formerly known as,” she responds.
I shake my head. “That’s wild.”
She rummages through the rest of the papers lying at the bottom of the drawer. “It looks like it was only one and I don’t think she responded. Imagine turning down Prince!”
“You think George up there putting hands on Prince for his wife?”
George was long gone before Dani and I came around, but the very fact that he got Tanya to marry him tells me that George did not play around.
Dani sighs dreamily. “Either that or she’s charmed her way into the weirdest, but somehow rightest, poly relationship.”
“Now you sound jealous,” I mock.
Her eyes jump like she’s been caught with her hands in the cookie jar. “I just can’t believe she knew Prince and didn’t introduce me.” She shrugs, accepting her lot in life, and continues searching the drawers.
The drama is strong with this one too.
We look through a few more interesting mementos of Tanya’s before I have to stand up to stretch my legs.
My foot hits the wall as I stand, sending one of the hall-of-fame photos crashing to the ground.
“Shit,” I curse. Dani starts to help me, but I tell her to stay where she is so I can clean up the glass. As I’m sweeping the last piece, I notice something sticking out of the back of the photo.
I pull it out and unfold it. It’s a note, written in Tanya’s handwriting.
During Halle’s senior year, she was the lead in a play with her boyfriend.
They broke up during rehearsals because he cheated on her with her understudy.
I went to the opening night of the play and watched her act out a scene where she was supposed to pretend to cut his hair off.
She didn’t pretend. She cut that boy’s 4B curls in front of a packed audience.
Everyone gasped in shock. I gave her a standing ovation.
I flip what’s left of the frame over to find a picture of Halle Hewitt, a famed Broadway actress, and one of Tanya’s past mentees.
Did Tanya write a card to go along with every one of these photos?
I hand the picture and card to Dani and grab another off the wall.
Opening the framed picture of music producer Finesse, I find a similar card with a handwritten memory.
Words aren’t needed between Dani and me. We both know all these pictures are coming down. One by one, we remove each memory from its cage, as if we can jump inside them like the chalk paintings from Mary Poppins.
We go until there’s only two photos left: mine and hers.
“You read mine. I’ll read yours?” Dani proposes.
Without another word, we swap.
I motion for her to go first and she clears her throat.
“Micah had been getting pretty big commissions for a while, but after he booked the Ravens one, he knew he was never going to go broke again. I asked him what he was going to do with his check, and I’ll never forget the look of pure elation on his face when he said he was going to buy his mom’s daycare center.
I think that’s the proudest I’ve ever been of him. ”
I can’t speak. The words are frozen to the back of my throat. I was expecting a funny recollection or even something kind about my work. I’m blown away and honored that her favorite memory of me was how she viewed me as a son and a man.
Placing my hand on my chest, I look up to the ceiling. “Thank you,” I croak, hoping that wherever Tanya is, she’s listening. My voice comes out hoarse, but I push through, powered by Dani’s reassuring smile. “My turn then?”
She nods.
“Okay, Dani smelled like cheese fries and bad manners.”
“It doesn’t fucking say that—”
She reaches to snatch the card from me, but I hold it high above her head. Standing on her toes brings our lips dangerously close. I can smell the strawberry Tic Tacs she ate in the car on her tongue.
I expect her to back down from the chemistry that has always brewed between us, but to my delight, she holds strong. Her eyes flutter to my lips briefly before she locks her gaze with mine, a silent challenge laid before me.
Not this time, Dani.
Not until you’re truly ready.