Chapter 33
Chapter thirty-three
Bess
"To telling The Odour to fuck off for good."
Everyone repeats the toast except for Ed, who simply smiles, and Carlos, who says, "Hear hear. Jolly well done, my girl."
We drink and all gazes fall on A Lettered Man.
He's almost complete. The frame is entirely papered in copies of the letters apart from one shoulder, which I intend to complete tonight in my final time lapse video. "You know, he's as wonderful as I imagined him to be?"
"So, uh," says Lutek, "will there be an auctioneer?"
"No, it'll be a silent auction. The entire thing will be conducted online."
"Conversation over wine and canapés might be a bit stilted if everyone's watching their phones," says Jeanette without her usual laugh. "Won't it?"
"We'll have an hour before the auctions begin to get people well lubricated and in a talking and giving mood. And not everyone there will be wanting to buy the art. When I say silent, I don't mean it'll be an event of complete silence."
Ed blows air through his lips and looks around the room at everyone. "I'm guessing A Lettered Man will be the last thing auctioned?"
"Naturally. It's the big draw card."
"I'm working on a glitter bomb installation that'll explode when A Lettered Man is sold," says Elly. "I'll have a box with a big red button on it with a 'detonation' label, so the whole thing can be cheesy as all hell."
She gives a little laugh and Ed frowns at her.
"What? The auction's happening regardless. All of us – sorry – most of us have stuff going under the hammer."
"Regardless of what?" I ask.
The room goes silent. Again.
"Ed's worried about the letter owner getting difficult," says Jeanette.
"Well I'm not," I say. "At this point the gain's far greater than the minimal risk of that happening."
Elly throws Ed a self-satisfied look.
"Will the box explode?" asks Lutek.
"No, the whole mechanism will be suspended from the ceiling and there'll be several simultaneous detonations for maximum coverage. It'll be raining sparkles of joy."
"Which will work their way out of all our creases for the next week, no doubt," sing-songs Jeanette.
"So," I say into the ensuing quiet, "what do you have to tell me, Ed?"
"Erm." Ed casts a glance at Jeanette. "It doesn't matter. It's inconsequential."
He doesn't sound sure, but before I can ask him more about it, he says, "How's your sculpture coming along, Jeanette?" which is an excellent diversion if that's its purpose.
"Great." Jeanette has been making a reclining naked woman with ample curves and eye-catching areola.
About the size of a real woman, she's so large, Jeanette's had to make her in pieces to fit in the kiln.
"She's nearly done. So far all the parts slot together nicely.
I'm hoping she'll be rather alarming to unsuspecting visitors when they spot her in the garden," she adds with her tinsel-y laugh.
I have no doubt it'll go for a tidy amount. Jeanette is very good at what she does, and something like that is a statement or rather, an experience plenty of people with money and a sense of whimsy will be happy to pay for.
However, it's not distraction enough. Something is clearly going on and I will get it out of him. "Ed –"
Jeanette suddenly gasps and looks between A Lettered Man and Ed.
"What?" I ask.
She puts her mug down and steers Ed to stand beside the sculpture. She positions him so he faces the soldier, then turns the frame to face Ed. "Look at their profiles."
After a moment, Elly says, "Oh yeah. They're almost identical."
Ed takes a step backwards and casts his eyes between Jeanette and Elly. His eyes are large, alarmed. "He doesn't look like me," he says at the same time as I say, "He doesn't look like Ed." I add a snort for good measure.
Something shifts in the room then and Ed scurries back to his original place in our semi-circle around the sculpture.
"He doesn't," I say again and when Carlos says, "He's the spitting, dear girl.
No point in denying it," I scrutinise the face of my soldier and then peer at Ed, who's frowning into his mug and very much looking like he'd rather be doing a suitless spacewalk than standing in this room in this moment.
And I see it. The bone structure's the same. The deep-set eyes are the bloody same. The angle of the nose... "Shit."
"Was that...did you intend to do that?" Lutek asks.
"No," I say. Because I didn't.
"God," says Elly. "They're even pretty much the same height. Look." She grabs Ed's arm, no doubt in an attempt to pull him over to stand beside the soldier again, but he tugs his arm out of her grasp. "Oh don't be a spoil sport, Ed," she adds in a teasing tone.
At which point Ed takes himself off to sit in his chair. He turns it around, away from us, and opens one of his notebooks, his shoulders hunched.
"Ed," says Lutek. "Are you alright?"
Ed writes something in his notebook.
"So," says Elly, her grin decidedly wicked. "You've made your ideal man and he just happens to look like Ed?"
I don't think I like what's happening. I don't really know what's happening, but I don't think I'm equipped to cope with it. Which I also don't like. "I mean. I spend a lot of time with Ed. I guess it was...unconscious? He's, like, my best friend." I laugh. It is short and flat. "Right, Ed?"
Ed offers a half-hearted nod, but doesn't turn around.
It's a logical argument. It makes sense.
I scrabble around for something else anyway.
"You're all artists. Art is always heavily influenced by our real life experiences.
Reality bleeds into art. I needed my sculpture to look like a man.
It's only natural there'd be unconscious bias towards the man I spend the most time with. There's nothing to read into that."
Now Elly looks positively gleeful. "An unconscious bias towards Ed as your ideal man. There's nothing at all to read into that."
Everybody except for Ed looks at me as if there's everything to read into that.
"I need some air," I say. I open the door and look over my shoulder before passing through it. "And all of you can fuck right off."
Except it's me who does the fucking right off. I get in the car and drive home to contemplate whether this is something I need to start freaking out about.