Chapter Thirty #2
Gone are the days of being alone, for now I walk beside you.”
When I finish reading the poem, I look out into the audience, searching for one person in particular. When I find Auntie Joyce with tear-stricken cheeks and an approving smile on her face, I’m happy.
The servers come out of the kitchen, brandishing trays of covered plates.
“Dinner is being served now, and in a little while we will open the gallery for your viewing—and buying—pleasure. In the meantime, please enjoy this documentary made in Tanya’s honor.
I believe that the only way a person can truly die is if we stop talking about them.
Everyone featured in this documentary had wonderful stories to share about Tanya.
I encourage each and every one of you to continue telling those stories.
Thirty years from now, I hope your kids, your kids’ kids, and their kids all know who Tanya was.
She’ll live on forever in all of us. Thank you. ”
Micah waits off stage for me, so I take his hand and let him guide us to our seats.
The lights dim as the documentary plays.
It starts with Micah’s very first interview, the one we did in Tanya’s house. The audience is immediately enthralled by his story.
It cuts to him working on her portrait, with me peppering him with questions about his artistic choices.
Throughout the video, the footage keeps cutting back to Micah painting the portrait of Tanya. I start chiming in more and more as it goes on.
One of the last interviews Micah and I recorded was one of my own. My heart starts to race when I see my face on the screen, hoping I didn’t gaslight myself into thinking the footage was good when it wasn’t.
“Can I ask you a question?” Micah asks off screen.
“That is kinda what we’re doing here.” I laugh.
“You right. Did Tanya give you that necklace?”
In the video my hand flies up to rub the very necklace lying against my chest as I grab the same necklace in real time.
“She did. How’d you know?”
“A lot of times when we talk about her, you touch it. I don’t even think you realize you’re doing it. It seems like it just comes naturally for you.”
On screen I rub the necklace three more times before answering him. “She gave it to me three years ago. Actually, it was the night of your gallery opening.”
The camera can’t see him now, but the look of confusion on his face when I said this is still fresh in my mind. ”Really?”
“Yep. She gave it to me and told me it was her mom’s good luck necklace.
She made me promise to give it to the next person when I felt like I didn’t need it anymore.
And I used to think how could she possibly think I’m deserving of this?
Why would she pass this down to me of all people?
But I haven’t taken it off since. And it’s taken me a long time, but I finally understand that I’m the exact right person to carry on this legacy for her. ”
Evie reaches over the table and puts her hand over mine. “I’m so proud of you,” she mouths.
“I love you,” I mouth back.
The video progresses through more confessionals. The interviews with Tanya’s family keep the audience laughing and lighthearted.
“How would you describe Tanya in one word?”
“Dramatic,” Cora responds.
“Iconic,” says John.
“Oooh, um, I’d say carefree,” Aaron says during his interview.
June and Tiara interview together. “One word for Tanya?” June says. “I don’t even think there’s a singular word that exists that fits her.”
Tiara smiles at her mom. “Indescribable?” she offers.
“That feels like cheating, but I’m gonna take it,” June says.
“Impossible!” Auntie Joyce yells. “She was impossible. Impossibly kind. Impossibly funny. Impossibly driven. Impossibly everything.”
“Do you have a favorite moment with Tanya?” I ask.
June, Cora, and Auntie Joyce have the most stories to share. Auntie Joyce shares one about Tanya getting caught smuggling a stray dog into the movie theater as a kid.
June shares a story about Tanya driving June’s husband’s truck into a mud pit by accident once and coming home covered head to toe in what they thought was shit.
Cora gives details about Tanya’s wedding. The audience bursts into tears when she describes how happy Tanya and George were and how she thought they’d last forever.
Janine, Daria, my parents, and Micah’s parents all have videos throughout too, each one pulling at every heartstring in the building.
When the documentary is over, I make my way back to the stage.
“Thank you, everyone. As you might have noticed, Micah was working on something throughout that video. We’d like to share that painting with you all now.”
Micah pulls the cover off his painting and there’s a wave of shock and awe that runs through the crowd.
Ella stands up and starts slow clapping. It doesn’t take long for others to follow. I force Micah to take a bow as the claps grow louder.
“This painting is titled The Many Faces of Tanya and it is available for bidding. Once again, thank you, everyone, for being here tonight. Tanya loved her life, and she loved you all, so I know she’s smiling down on us now.
Oh, and she’s also reminding me to remind you all to keep bidding on those auction items.”
Victor is the first person to approach me after my final speech. He’s of course wearing a suit, but this one is forest green, a nice change from his usual.
“Victor, I didn’t know you had color in your closet,” I tease.
“Well, I thought I’d dig this one up in Tanya’s honor.” I look at his lapel to see he has a pink flower pin that closely resembles the one he donated.
“And you succeeded.” I hold my hand out to him. “Thank you, Victor. We could not have done this without you.”
He looks at my hand briefly and then pushes it away and pulls me in for a hug.
Now he’s messing up my makeup by making me cry! I’m back to not liking him.
“You did right by her, Dani. Know that.” He kisses my forehead before heading back to his table.
Moments later, Ella, Tony, and Michael sneak up and squeeze the life out of me in a group hug.
“Y’all are the worst,” I huff as I try to regain my breath.
“And you love us anyway,” Ella sings.
I really do. These people have become like family to Micah and me and I’m never letting them go.
“She doesn’t really have a choice. We’re locked in,” Tony adds.
“But also, you did not tell me how many fine women would be in attendance tonight,” Michael says as he surveys the room.
“And why would she do that when none of them would want your ass?” Ella teases.
“Who asked you, Two Scoops? I’m leaving here with at least one number tonight, watch.”
“It’s Tanya’s homegoing and you worried about getting numbers. Degenerate,” she tsks.
I interrupt. “Right. Michael, have you met Christian? And Ella, have you met Evie? I really think y’all would get along.” It would most likely be disastrous, but I’m willing to risk it for the sheer entertainment potential.
I point out their doppelg?ngers and tell them to introduce themselves at some point before I head over to the auction area to check the lists.
Bailey is going to walk away with Tanya’s mom’s music box. That is so perfect for her.
One of Tanya’s cousins is taking Victor’s glass-covered rose.
Auntie Joyce is going to win Micah’s portrait of Tanya. I couldn’t be happier with that turnout.
Christian is standing off to the side with a sour look on his face.
I walk over to Evie and tap her on the shoulder. “What’s up with him?”
She snickers, so I know she’s up to no good. “He’s just mad because no one has bid on his little date.”
“No one at all?” I say, shocked. Christian may be a bit much for my tastes, but he’s attractive. I can’t believe no one would bid.
“I mayyyy have paid whoever came up to his clipboard to walk away.”
I slap her arm. “You ain’t shit. That money is for charity.”
“Please, I’m good for it. But that look on his face is worth its weight in gold.”
We cackle when Christian perks up at the sight of another woman walking over to his bidding table, all to deflate as she walks away quickly.
“Oh, and by the way,” Evie adds, “I was told to give you this tonight.” She reaches into the breastplate of her dress and pulls out something small and folded.
When I unfold it, I realize it’s a small swatch of sandpaper. My head flies up, searching for Micah, but I don’t see him anywhere.
“Who told you to do this?” I ask, though there’s only one person it could be.
“Mmm, I was told if you asked that to simply say, ‘I’ll be your sandpaper.’ So, that’s all I got for you.”
My vision becomes blurry, but I don’t wipe the tears away. I wear them like a medal.
While I’m searching for Micah, I bump into Slater, and I’m shocked to see who he’s with. “Hi, Slater. Thanks for coming. And, Kelly. I am … surprised to see you here.” She looks stunning in a gold floor-length dress.
“I misjudged Tanya, so I wanted to show my support.”
“It took you this long to realize you misjudged her?” My curiosity is too great not to ask what convinced her to come.
She pushes her shoulders back. “It took a young woman hugging me while I cried in the remnants of my kitchen after I had been nothing but rude to her for me to realize I had misjudged Tanya. She couldn’t have been so bad if she had a hand in raising you.”
Wow. I wasn’t expecting her words or her genuine expression. “Well, in that case, I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” She smiles.
Throughout the night, I’m handed swatches of sandpaper from the people I hold dear. I’ve collected so many that my clutch is about to pop. Another swatch appears in front of me and when I turn to find the presenter, it’s none other than Micah.
“May I have this dance?” he asks.
“Of course.” We glide onto the dance floor, staring into each other’s eyes while Janessa Howard strums a beautiful melody on her violin.
“If you had told me at the beginning of the night that my purse would be filled with sandpaper, I wouldn’t have believed you.
” The swatch he gave me is still in my hand, pressed against his shoulder.
He smirks. “I just wanted you to have a reminder of who your sandpaper is. But I still like a good, jagged edge.”
I’m learning to like them too. They’ve gotten me here, after all.
Once the auction portion is over, the gallery is open for people to walk through and observe or buy pieces.
Micah managed the gallery portion of the night, so he handled the final walkthrough. Now, I can just sit back and enjoy the art with Micah’s hand in mine. As I’m walking through the rows of paintings, I’m stunned speechless by a new one.
It’s the portrait Micah started of me years ago, finally finished. It’s titled The Art of Loving You.
He wraps his arm around my waist and I melt into him. “Just so you know, the video we made isn’t for sale,” Micah whispers in my ear.
I spin around so I can look him in the face. “Micah, I—” I cut myself off.
“It’s called The Art of Loving You because loving you is an art form in its own right. And I do love you. I need you to know that. You don’t have to say it back. In fact, I don’t want you to. I want to keep earning it.”
I get choked up on my words, but I manage to push them out. “You don’t mind that I’m not ready?” It’s not because I don’t feel it, but because I’m not ready to voice it.
“Nope. You take your time because whenever you get to the finish line, I’ll be there waiting for you.”
I kiss him so deeply that people around us start to cheer.