Page 17 of The Art of Loving Ellie
I try to turn a light on but notice the bulbs must be dead. “Dad, we cannot live like this anymore. When was the last time you even showered?” I grind my teeth and practically hiss at him, “I need you to get up, and I need you to get yourself together,now.” I attempt to push his solid form, but he resists, not giving me any inclination that he’s even heard what I said.
After a few moments, I give up trying to move him, and he finally speaks. “I can’t,” he starts to whimper like he’s going to cry. “I can’t do this anymore.”
My patience is straining like a long cord that can barely hold on to the weight that’s pulling it. My heart breaks for what has become of us, and without warning, the tension snaps. “We are barely surviving. I can’t keep paying the bills around here and going to school. You have to find another job before we lose the house. You’re wallowing in self-pity because mom left, but…” I pause, waiting for any reaction, and when he doesn’t move, I whisper—mostly to myself, “she left me too you know.”
Still nothing. I reach out and grab his dry, pale hand. “Please, Dad. I need you.”
Inside, I’m screaming that I'm so sick of living this way, and how tired I am of the filth, and the mess, and the embarrassment. I just want someone to scoop me up and take care of me for once. Someone to give me a decent shower, some nice clothes, and tell me that everything is going to be okay.
I wait for him to answer me, just as I’ve waited for him to show up and take responsibility for what has been going on under this roof for so many years, but the only response I get is the static of the TV.
As my panic attack subsides, and my vision begins to clear, I see that I’m sitting on a bench that faces the picture of Lake Isabella. I’m nauseated and emotionally exhausted. Closing my eyes, I gently rub my temples. Panic attacks used to happen to me quite often, but it’s been a while since I’ve had one as an adult.
My thoughts refuse to clear, even after my mind has forcefully attempted to push me through this. My biggest fear is becoming a nobody, like Robert, and this mental block I have around painting only drives home the fact that I’m currently living my nightmare—failure. I’m angrier with him now than I’ve ever been with my mother.
Sure, she was never shy about letting me know I was never good enough, but when I look back at my childhood memories, I don’t care about the things she said or did to me. I care that Robert was never there for me. He was devastated when she left, putting me on the back burner, and I still can’t understand how he completely lost himself like that. I had to pick up the pieces of our broken lives just to keep our heads above water.
After giving myself a moment, I stand, leaving the beauty of real-life captured in photos behind, and I’m upset with myself for ruining my visit. I push through the front doors of the museum out into the busy world, and sounds and smells assault my overworked senses.
A woman on her cell phone chats excitedly as she blurs past me in a hurry, and a group of tourists laughs loudly across the street, pointing at this and that. Men, women, and children continue to bustle around me as if I don’t exist, and I glance down toward my feet feeling helpless. Car horns blare, and loud noises come from every direction, surrounding and overwhelming me. I struggle to move my feet in the direction of home as I face reality. I don’t have to fear becoming a nobody—because Iama nobody.
Chapter Six
Iswallow through the lump in my throat as I stare at the beautiful woman looking back at me in the mirror. I hardly recognize her. I’ve ditched my high ponytail tonight for a more classic look; a low bun surrounded by two thick braids.Thank you, YouTube. The eyes staring back at me are a deep blue, accented with smoky gray eyeliner, and a light-gold shimmering eyeshadow.
My gaze travels from my full pink lips, down to the flowing blue, floor length gown that is doing wonders for my slim figure. The shimmer throughout the skirt gives the gown a playful, yet classy look.
I’m hoping the white fur shawl I’ve paired the dress with will help keep me warm throughout the evening. It rests comfortably in the crook of my elbows but can be pinned around my shoulders for better coverage if needed. I’ve topped the look off with some sparkling gold, strappy heels, and I give a little twirl in the mirror smiling at myself as excitement floods my body—Alex is going to freak when he sees me like this.
The team and I have put hard work into this gallery, and I’m incredibly nervous as I head out to the front of my apartment building to hail a cab, praying this event goes off without a hitch.
When the cabby pulls up to Lillian Artem, I can see people in the busy lobby congregating and checking in. Everyone looks so nice in their fancy dresses and suits, and I’m glad I decided to splurge and get a more expensive dress. I tip the driver, and head inside to find Alex and the event crew.
A beautiful young woman takes my name when I approach the velvet rope blocking my entry to the event. She points me to the left after I’m admitted, and I’m greeted by Madeline who stands in front of a large coat closet helping to take guest’s belongings after they are checked in. “Everything looks perfect, Ellie.” She reassures me with a genuine smile, and I smile back, surprised by this gentler side of her.
Taking the elevator to the fourth floor, I make my way through a crowd of people that are in the front room. This area is separate from the sculpture garden, which is outside on the large terrace.
The space I’m in houses an exhibit that was here prior to our party, and people are chatting and looking at the different pieces throughout the room. Three floor-to-ceiling windows look out at the terrace, and the door I’m looking for sits in the center of them, facing the garden.
“Excuse me,” I say as I walk through men and women drinking champagne and talking so loudly I can hardly hear myself think. I open the glass door that leads to the garden and suck in a breath of fresh evening air. It’s a cold, November evening, and I’m afraid my fur shawl is not going to be enough to keep me warm.
“Ellie!” I turn to see Alex as he swaggers over to me, and it appears he has already had a glass or two of champagne. I giggle uncontrollably when he grabs my hand, giving me a twirl that causes the bottom of my dress skirt to flare out around me.
“You’ve officially gone mad!” I laugh at him and take in his ridiculous attire. He sports a three-piece, eggplant-purple suit that’s perfectly pressed and paired with a blue, yellow, and orange striped bow tie. His white collared shirt is fitted perfectly underneath his suit, and I know just by touching the fabric and seeing his choice of brown dress shoes that his outfit is expensive.
“What, you don’t like it?” He strikes a pose for me, showing off his bright white smile and perfectly styled blonde hair.
“How did you know that I’ve always wanted to meet Barney in person?” I smirk patting his shoulder and move past him to see the rest of the setup.
“Hey, Barney is fuchsia!” he calls out, following after me. Catching up to me quickly, I turn to see tenderness gleaming in his eyes. “You look absolutely stunning, Sugar.”
Heat finds my face at his compliment. “Thank you,” I say with a shy smile, rubbing my hands nervously over the front of my gown.
Looking around at the elegance of the space, I’m amazed at how well this has all turned out. Seven round tables face the three glass windows leading back inside, and each one is covered in a white silk tablecloth, with differing floral centerpieces adorning each table.
String lights dance their way left and right above our heads, giving the space a magical feel. There’s a DJ set up in the corner, who's playing something soft and gentle while people wander around the cloth covered art that’s been hidden from view until it’s time for the showing. The buffet and drinks are set against a half wall that faces out towards the city where the sun is slowly going down, making the cityscape look both alive and alluring.
“Thank you,” Alex whispers to me, bringing me in for a hug. “You really helped bring all this to life.”
