CHAPTER FIVE
Gallery Opening
ADALINE
Oxford still feels like it’s testing me.
Quietly every day, like it’s waiting to see if I will fail.
I’m no longer the smartest person in every room, maybe the second smartest or third…
I’m not at the complete end of the totem pole.
There’s an assumption threaded through every lecture that you already belong, that you already know how to keep up.
The first week, I got home with my head buzzing and my notes a mess of half-finished thoughts and arrows pointing nowhere.
The second week, it gets easier. Not because the work gets lighter, but because I get meaner with it.
I stop apologising to myself for not understanding things immediately.
I stop rereading everything twice. I trust that if I don’t get it today, I will tomorrow.
Most importantly, I stop feeling sorry for myself.
Now, three months later, I’ve gotten the hang of things.
Juliette notices the change before I do.
“You look different,” she says one morning, leaning against the kitchen counter while I shove books into my bag.
“Different how?”
“Like you’re not drowning under all that work anymore.” She offers me her brightest smile.
I smile and kiss her cheek in response before heading out for my classes.
Juliette fits into Oxford like she was folded into it on purpose.
She’s been preoccupied with opening up her gallery and having meetings with people who already know her name.
I watch her navigate it all with this calm confidence that still surprises me sometimes, like I forget how much space she’s allowed to take up.
The privilege is astounding, but she uses it for good.
Still, with everything on her plate, she makes me a priority. She packs my lunches every day, drives me to class and back because she doesn’t want me using my motorbike. We’ve become a domestic couple in a way, and I never thought mundanity could feel so exhilarating.
Today is different, though. Nothing mundane about her gallery opening. It’s been all she’s been focused on for the last few months and I’ve seen all the hard work she’s poured into it. She’s been pretending she’s fine about it, but I know better.
“What if no one comes?”
“They will.”
“What if they don’t like it?”
“They already do.”
I rub her shoulders, plastering kisses all over her face, trying to calm her down.
Because I know any second now people will be flooding through the gallery doors.
She collapses in my arms, and I hold her until exactly what I predicted would happen does.
Hundreds of people start flooding in when the doors open.
Our friends couldn’t make it, but they were here last week to congratulate Juliette on it.
She seems surprised that so many people came, but I think she forgets that she’s a Kingston. This is no surprise to me.
I take a step back while Juliette roams around, introducing her art and speaking with countless people.
The gallery is bigger than anything I imagined when she first told me about it.
White walls, high ceilings, clean light pouring in from every direction.
Her work hangs like it belongs there, like the space was built around it.
I watch Juliette talk to strangers with a different air around her.
She’s unusually shy, and I find it the most adorable thing ever.
I watch her smile like she’s finally letting herself enjoy this instead of bracing for it to disappear.
When she finds me later, flushed and glowing, she squeezes my hand and introduces me to every single person in the gallery.
“This is my girlfriend, Adaline,” she says about a thousand times in the night, and it doesn’t fail to make me blush every single time.
She disappears again eventually when an art collector steals her away to ask about one of her oil paintings.
I sip on champagne, still just watching her and feeling my heart swell up.
Through my peripheral vision, I see Miss Kingston walking towards me.
A few months ago, that would’ve made me throw up.
Now it’s different. She apologised for her behaviour a while ago and we’ve been making great strides since then.
“Hi, Adaline,” she greets me.
“Hi, Miss Kingston.”
“Samantha,” she corrects me.
I nod with a smile. “Samantha.”
“She’s a natural,” she says, gesturing to Juliette, who is standing with that art collector describing her painting. Her arm flailing around and excitement painted all over her expression.
“She really is,” I agree.
“Thank you,” Samantha says suddenly, squeezing my hand.
“For what?”
“For being here for her, for loving her,” she says. “I know how much you’ve helped with this.” Juliette and Samantha are the same in the way that they both have trouble expressing gratitude, so this means a lot more to me than she thinks.
“It’s the easiest thing in the world,” I tell her, and she pulls me into a hug. Eventually she leaves and I go back to staring at Juliette.
Once the night draws to a close, I wander over to Juliette, who seems positively exhausted.
“Hi, is that the most famous artist ever?”
“Hi, baby.” She smiles, immediately resting her head on my chest.
“Not a single piece left,” I beam. “Do you miss them?”
“A little, but I know these people will appreciate them.”
“You’re the most talented person I know, you know that, right?” I kiss her forehead, watching her blush. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Stop it.” She hides her face.
“How about I take you home?” I encircle our fingers together.
“I have to tidy—”
“Your mother said she would deal with that.”
“Really?” She asks excitedly.
“Yes, baby.”
The drive to our apartment is fairly quiet.
Juliette holds my hand as she tries to keep her eyes open because she still doesn’t trust me with driving her car.
Once we get home, I hold her hand again and try to get her to walk in slowly, but she’s so tired that she just stumbles into our apartment.
That exhaustion seems wiped out when she sees everything.
“Baby, oh my god,” she utters in pure disbelief.
I spent the whole day decorating the entire apartment.
There are fifty balloons for the fifty pieces of art displayed in her gallery, a banner congratulating her, gardenias scattered around the floor and a bouquet placed on our dining table.
I also spent the whole day prepping all of her favourite foods and getting all of her favourite snacks.
Samantha knew and generously offered to tidy the gallery so I could bring her home for this.
“Congratulations, baby.” I smile widely and she jumps in my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist.
“Baby! You already threw a party for me last week!” She plants a kiss on my lips.
“This is just for us.” I kiss her back, feeling her giggle into my lips.
“This is amazing,” she says.
“How about you look at what’s behind your flowers and see what’s really amazing?” I whisper in her ear.
She squeals before jumping off me and running to the dining table. I watch as she rummages through everything and finds her gift, wrapped in baby pink paper and a cute little bow that took me two hours to tie because I’m stupid.
“Open it.”
Before I can even say anything else, she’s ripping into the paper like a little kid on Christmas Day.
“Oh. My. God.” She breathes out.
I’ve been planning this gift for weeks. I picked up tutoring again to make extra cash for it and just told Juliette that it was for experience.
Juliette is used to lavish things, not that she has ever expected or asked for these things from me.
She’s much more of a giver than a receiver.
I write her letters, make her gifts and buy dinner when I can because lack of money doesn’t mean I don’t show effort.
I wanted this to be something different, and it all happened the day that I went thrifting.
I found it in a small vintage shop tucked away on a side street, the kind of place you only notice if you’re already looking for something specific. I stepped into it because something was telling me to, and I’m so glad I did. Because I found the perfect gift just sitting there.
It’s a Back to the Future DeLorean time machine replica. Not some cheap plastic replica either, but detailed and heavy metal. The kind of thing that feels important in your hands. It cost just under five hundred, and my stomach flipped when he told me the price, but I didn’t hesitate buying it.
I thought of Juliette when we started tutoring and she told me about the movies, explaining them as if they were sacred to her. Every two weeks she makes me rewatch the movies with her and it just makes me fall in love with her more and more.
“Adaline,” she says. “This is insane.”
“You like it?” I ask smugly.
“I love it,” she says immediately. “I love it. But what the fuck. How much does this cost?”
“About five hundred.” I feel a little shy telling her, because that amount is like pennies for Juliette.
She stares at me. “What? No. No, absolutely not. You shouldn’t spend money on me like that.”
I shrug. “You’re always spending money on me.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
She opens her mouth, closes it again. “Because I want to.”
“So do I.”
She shakes her head, half laughing, half seemingly overwhelmed. “This is too much.” Her consciousness of my financial situation is adorable and I love it.
“It’s not,” I say. “It’s exactly enough.”
She pulls me into a tight hug.
“I can’t believe this,” she says in the crook of my neck.
“You deserve the world, baby.”
She looks at me, eyes earnest with a smile, and says, “I already have it.”