Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The end of the term arrived out of nowhere.
Grace had been teaching students from across the world, students who spoke different languages, had vastly different lifestyles and cultures, and yet, she’d felt so relaxed in that room, having hours-long discussions about how institutions evaluate art and Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain.
She belonged there somehow. And so did her students. They all fit together so well.
As she sat in the auditorium while her last section of students scribbled diligently on their final exams, Grace’s mind wandered.
On paper, things were good. Classes had gone well, and she was hopeful about her contract being renewed the following year.
She even had a new course to teach, Feminism in Art, and Marco had already enrolled, despite the fact that he didn’t need it for his program of study and was only taking it for fun.
It was a relief, though. She was going to miss a lot of the brilliant students she’d had in her classes, but at least she’d have Marco and the connection to his mother.
Lucia had agreed to take up the brush again, and Grace couldn’t wait to see her new work.
Additionally, she was back in her apartment with Alma, and things were going well there, too.
Alma seemed to be making it a point to stay in the apartment with Grace more often, instead of sleeping at Obinna’s place every night.
She and Alma stayed up late gossiping like teenagers, just like they had in college—joking about their colleagues, planning out Alma’s future with Obinna, reading juicy details from celebrity news sites even though neither of them cared all that much.
They ate too much cheese and drank too much wine and sprawled across their newly installed floor trying to do different yoga poses, even though they mostly just ended up lying there.
“Corpse pose,” Alma would say, “my favorite.”
Grace felt settled in a way she’d never expected after uprooting her entire life. She felt like she was rebuilding everything from the bottom up, but it was actually working, and maybe…maybe she could be happy in Spain, long term.
The problem was that despite all the things that were finally looking up, she wasn’t exactly there yet.
Happy. Actually, she was miserable most of the time, lost again in the dark hole without Rafael to offer a hand, but this time it was because of him.
Or it was because of her, really. She was the one who ended it, even if it had been for perfectly logical and valid reasons.
Still, her brain kept returning to him—images of his dark eyes searching for hers across the room, the way he’d said he wanted to be with her for real, that it wasn’t just sex to him. She missed him. And no matter how well everything else was going, she couldn’t seem to get him out of her head.
“No need to bother grading that one,” Marco said, handing over his exam paper. “That’s an A+ for sure.”
“Is that right?” Grace smiled. “I seem to remember you mixing up Tzara and Janco on your last quiz.”
“No, no,” Marco chided. “Don’t worry, Profe, you haven’t stumped me with the Dadaists again. I’ve figured it out.”
“We’ll see,” Grace said. Then she whispered, “how’s your mother?”
Marco beamed. His pride in his mother’s artwork was unparalleled, and Grace was honored to be a part of it.
She only wanted to encourage Lucia to keep painting, because the way Lucia saw the world—the way she captured the beauty in the smallest, most mundane details—it was something that gave Grace hope.
“She’s good,” he replied. “I haven’t seen her this excited about something in a long time.
“She’s coming to the student night, right?”
“Of course. She doesn’t shut up about it,” Marco joked with a twinkle in his eye. “Thanks for inviting us.”
Grace nodded absently. Just thinking of the museum was another thing that brought Raf to the forefront of her mind.
Hours of sorting through paintings and planning and talking to each other.
And then there was the time she’d kissed him right there in the middle of the cave.
God, she could still feel his lips on hers.
She hadn’t decided whether or not to attend the opening night.
She’d be there soon for the event for her students, after all, and maybe one trip to the exhibit was more than enough.
But Alma and Obinna were going, and Grace was supposed to be fine.
She also couldn’t seem to help herself from taking every opportunity to get a glimpse of Rafael, even if she kept her distance and didn’t speak to him.
“I’ll see you there, then,” she said to Marco. “And I’ll see you next term.”
He gave her a little wave. “Just wait until you see how well I did on that exam. I’m telling you.”
Grace grinned at him again. “Get out of here before you distract the whole class, Marco.”
“What are you wearing to this thing?” Grace asked Alma, holding up the hangers of two different dresses, one floral and one with too many buttons, both admittedly terrible options.
Alma shrugged. “Gracie, you’re the one who should know what to wear to an exhibit.”
Grace pursed her lips. “This isn’t just an exhibit, though, this is a party. This is your area of expertise.”
Alma sighed. “Okay, then, don’t be offended when I say you can’t wear either of those.”
“I’m not offended, but I really need help.”
Of course, Grace also wanted to look good, not that she would admit that to Alma.
Rafael had seen her sweaty from moving furniture, he’d seen her sobbing in her bed, he’d seen her brushing her teeth in the bathroom sink, but for once, she just wanted to look put together, even if there was nothing between them anymore.
Just one time, she could look like she wasn’t a total mess.
“I think we’re going to need to raid my closet,” Alma said.
Grace followed Alma to her bedroom. Raiding Alma’s closet would certainly mean she would look different than usual. Alma was glamorous, sexy, and adventurous, while Grace’s usual attire didn’t come close to any of those things.
“This is what I’m wearing,” Alma said, holding up a low-cut red dress with a slit up the side. Grace could tell it would be form-fitting, too, which meant Alma would look hot as hell, as always. “And Obinna’s wearing a suit with a little red pocket square to match.”
“It’s like you’re going to prom,” Grace said.
Alma ignored her. “You look good in blue because of your eyes,” she said. “I bet there are going to be a lot of handsome, rich guys there tonight.” She gave Grace a wink.
Grace wasn’t sure what facial expression she made in response to that, but she could tell it wasn’t the right one when Alma frowned. “You’re okay, right Gracie?”
Grace tried to put on a smile but kept her eyes trained on the dress.
They hadn’t talked about Rafael. They’d barely talked about anything that had happened at all, which Grace hated.
She was used to sharing everything with Alma, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit how much she missed Raf.
She was supposed to be strong. “I could try this one on.”
Alma eyed her suspiciously for a moment longer. “Try this one, too,” she said, pulling another blue dress from the closet. “I’ve never even worn it, but I feel like it will look great on you.”
Grace hadn’t really considered the parking situation in Sacromonte near the museum, and when she arrived with Alma and Obinna, she realized that this was another challenge Rafael must have been concerned about in this setting.
It was simple enough to park one or two cars on the little curve outside the cave, but enough for a whole party?
It turned out that the road curved around to a dead end, however, one they managed to set up like a parking lot.
There was even a valet who was taking cars and parking them on the hill wherever he could manage, and by the time the three of them arrived in Obinna’s car, there was still a good amount of room where they would be able to accommodate even more guests.
“This is so beautiful!” Alma exclaimed as they headed toward the front entrance, her hand reaching out for Obinna.
It was beautiful. Grace remembered the first time she’d driven up here with Raf, the way she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off the whitewashed dwellings on the side of the road, the view of the city and the Alhambra like a castle in the sky on the horizon. It was like nothing she’d ever seen.
When they stepped inside the exhibit, Grace didn’t even recognize it.
It was so bright it was almost sparkling.
A framed print on an easel welcomed guests to the gallery and offered a brief description of the collection.
Gone were the dismantled frames and scattered boxes.
Everything was in its place, ready to show off.
Alma gave their names to the attendant while Grace was busy staring in disbelief, amazed by how everything had been transformed since her last visit.
The first room was glowing with a light that shined from new fixtures that hadn’t been there before.
They’d worried about the lighting, how to make it easy to see the paintings without everything having a clinical feel, but somehow Rafael had found a balance between brightness and comfort.
There was a new plaque on the wall, too, shiny and bronze and far larger than she would have anticipated.
Alma and Obinna joined her as she read through the text that dedicated the exhibit to the Roma people who called these caves home in the past and in the present.
That was something, at least. Raf and Christian had come through on that promise and the one to have days where the local community who’d heard of it could visit for free.
They also planned to invest in the area as well, though Grace wasn’t clear on the details.
“Ready for some Picassos, Gracie?” Alma asked.