Page 25 of Throw Away the Key
“Yeah, let's do it.”
“Emma, you made it!” Joy greeted them immediately at the door as they walked inside. She pulled Emma into a big hug and then turned to Granny. “Here, let me take your coat.”
“Thank you! Joy, this is Ms. Marion, my best friend Zora’s grandmother.” Emma pulled her trench off, smoothing her hands over the front of her black cable knit sweater dress, her knee-high leather boots skimming its midi hem. She’d matched Granny’s energy with a strong red lip.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Marion. Do you accept hugs?”
“I surely do,” Granny gave Joy a squeeze. “Congratulations! You’ve got quite a crowd here tonight.” She gestured around the gallery as laughter and talking voices bounced off of the walls.
Joy beamed radiantly, her brown skin glowing almost golden in the light. Around the room, canvas paintings lined the walls, bright and bold and colorful. Throngs of people were clustered at each one, pointing to different features as SoCa music played from a small DJ booth in a back corner.
“These are incredible, Joy,” Emma craned her neck to take in the vibrance of Joy’s work. Silhouettes of Black women in motion–each brush stroke creating texture and nuance. The first piece inside the gallery entrance was of a woman twirling before a mirror, the skirt of her dress and her mass of curls a vision topped only by the expression of joy on her face. “I’ve always wanted to take up art–I took a few classes in college, but I never got to really see it through. This is iconic,” she breathed.
“Oh, thank you. I'm so glad that y'all came to this installation today. We are really focusing–and when I say we, I mean me and my creative side. We were really focusing on showing strength and resilience and joy in a visually dynamic format,” Joy beamed, gesturing proudly at her work. “If you ever want to join me at the studio, I’d love to have you. I think everyone finds something new about themselves on the canvas.”
“Really? That would be amazing! Now, hear me when I say that I don’t expect that my art would be anything like this–I’m more on a paint and sip level, but I think this would scratch a creative itch that I haven’t satisfied in quite a while, and I’d much rather make some art for my place than buy some random prints.”
“The colors are very powerful,” Granny nodded at the closest piece. “I’d love to join y’all in the studio when the time comes.”
“Of course! I’d love to have you. Emma, if you want to continue down that way, um, Sadie's over there.” Joy pointed toward a corridor at the end of the room.
A flutter bloomed in Emma’s chest. “Oh, okay,” she replied nervously. She hesitated, looking at Granny Marion like a deer caught in the headlights.
“You go on ahead, baby. I'm gonna sit here and talk to Joy and learn more about her inspiration,” she winked at Emma as if to say “you’ve got this.”
Emma swallowed down the urge to protest. “Okay, I'll catch up with you in a bit.”
“Take your time,” Joy smiled conspiratorially at Granny who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. She leaned close to Emma. “She just needs some time to open up. You’ll see.”
Their eyes connected and Joy reached out to give Emma an encouraging pat. They inhaled together, and Joy nudged her toward the back.
“You’ve got this, girl,” Joy whispered.
Granny leaned toward the woman whispering something which was met with raucous laughter. She giggled sweetly, giving Emma a finger wave before pointing toward the mirror painting to ask questions.
Emma shook her head and turned toward the next art installment, admiring different pieces along the wall as she found Sadie looking at the last one. In it, a woman appeared to be sprinting, reaching for the word “Freedom,” which was just out of grasp. Her expression was one marked with pain and hope, that one word felt like a loaded statement surrounded by gradients of color.
“Hey, you made it,” Sadie’s eyes widened as her eyes traveled down Emma’s body before returning to meet her gaze.
Emma’s cheeks warmed and she silently thanked the low lighting in the room. She appreciated the added height her boots gave her, knowing that her dress hugged her generous curves. “Yeah, I said I wanted to come and support, so I'm here,” she shrugged.
“Well, I'm glad you did.” Sadie wore a denim jumpsuit that cinched her waist and accentuated her backside. Its unbuttoned collar revealed a generous amount of skin.
“You look beautiful,” Emma said slowly, trying not to stare, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
“I could say the same about you. Can I give you a hug?”
Emma froze. “Uh, sure.” Her body tensed as Sadie drew closer to her, pressing her lips against the side of Emma's jaw before standing back to admire her. “This dress is everything.”
Sadie’s scent invaded Emma’s senses as she short-circuited from the contact of hands skimming her back. “What was that for?”
“It was something I should have done earlier at the farmer's market.”
“So why didn't you?”
Sadie shrugged sheepishly. “Uh, I don't know honestly. In retrospect, I could have handled that whole exchange better. Listen, do you want to go and talk?”
Emma's eyebrows raised as Sadie pointed back toward what looked like an office door. “Is that okay?”
