Page 71 of Something Like Forever
“Is someone here?” Timasked.
“Oh!” Corey said, droppinghis hands. “You’re going to kill me, but uh… Well, you’ll see.” Hegrabbed his shirt and put it on. When Tim moved for his own, Coreyrushed to snatch it away. “Nope! It’ll be better this way. I’ll lether in.”
“Her?”
“Miyû Mitsuishi!” Corey said. “I told her to come by and checkout the new space.”
“Youwhat?” Tim glanced around in panic.Yeah, he had thrown away a lot of stuff, but that wasn’t the sameas cleaning. They were still surrounded by dust and grime. “Shecan’t see it like this!”
“Shecan,” Corey said, already at the door. “It’ll be okay. You’llsee.”
Then it was too late. Fromof a rectangle of daylight stepped a grasshopper in a shreddedwedding dress. That was his initial impression. Miyû’s hair wasstill pale green, and she wore the same plastic insect antenna,presumably attached to a headband somewhere. That was about all hecould take in, because the camera was out and recording. She ranright over to him.
“Ohayo gozaimasu, Wyman-sama!” shecried.
“Ohio,”he replied. During all the downtime, he had asked Corey to teachhim some basic phrases. Feeling brave, he added,“Genki.”
This seemed tothrillMiyû, who stood next to him andlaunched into rapid-fire Japanese that he couldn’t understand whilefilming every second with her phone on its selfie stick. Shepointed to his bare torso with her free hand, commenting on it andmaking a funny face. He wasn’t sure if she was being flattering ornot. Then she turned to him more formally and asked a question thatCorey translated.
“Mr. Wyman, what does ittake to be a painter?”
“Oh,” hereplied, wishing that Corey had at least briefed him on this. Thenhe might have had time to think of something clever to say. “Youjust have to pick up a brush and use it to get paint on the canvas.That’s all it takes. It doesn’t matter if anyone likes the resultor not.”
Corey translated this.Miyû addressed the camera again, then asked another question. “Isthe goal of this gallery to bring the American dream toJapan?”
“No,” he said. “The idea is to help artistsliving in Japan show youtheirdreams. That’s what we do backhome. I don’t think that’s an American ideal exactly. It’s just theright thing to do.”
Corey translated thiswhile looking proud. Maybe he was doing okay! Tim straightenedhimself up, ready to take the next question, but instead Miyûchatted to the camera before springing away. To tour the crustyrestaurant?
“Thisisn’t good!” Tim whispered, watching as she went to one of thefilthy windows, shrieked, and then used a gloved hand to draw a sadface in the muck.
“It’sfine,” Corey said. “People will think you’re crazy for undertakingthis, but it’ll look even more impressive once the real gallery isfinally unveiled.”
“Yeah,but… Oh god, she’s going into the kitchen!” He followed, which wasa terrible idea, because she got footage of him looking mortified.Where was Marcello when you needed him? He understood this publicrelations stuff. Tim tried to put himself in the older man’smindset. What would Marcello do? Open a bottle of champagne andtell a story that, while dirty, offered a surprising amount ofperspective? Tim only had bottled water available, and the solestory he could think of was when Ben had drizzled caramel over hisown body and called Tim into the bedroom, but he wasn’t sure of themoral. Instead he watched helplessly as Miyû shrieked and recoiledat every mess. Then she returned to him, posing one lastquestion.
“Mr. Wyman,” Coreytranslated. “When will we see you paint again?”
“As soonas I’m done cleaning up this place,” Tim said, eyes darting to thechaos around him. Then he made himself focus on Miyû, whose unusualfashion sense inspired him. “Will you come back when the studio isready so I can paint you? You’ll be the first piece of art createdhere.”
Corey started translating,but Miyû cut him off, squealing in excitementand—presumably—explaining it all for her audience. Then she thankedhim, and Tim was able to reciprocate, thanks to Corey’s tutoring.Like last time, Miyû signed off with a salute, smiling expectantlyand waiting for him to do the same. He did.
Then the camera was turnedoff and the selfie stick compressed. “You really want to paint me?”she asked in heavily accented English.
“I’d love to!” Tim said.“You have amazing style.”
“You arevery talented artist,” Miyû replied. “This isn’t my career. I,ahhh—” She reverted to Japanese.
“Shegraduated from the best art school in Japan,” Corey said, lookingimpressed himself. “With a master’s.”
“Fashion,” Miyû said in English again. “I will launch my ownlabel. First, people must be in love with you.”
“Sounds to me like Japanalready loves you,” Tim replied.
“Japan hasn’t met me yet,”she said with a wink.
Interesting! They had ashort conversation about his plans for the gallery and its opening,Miyû much calmer when the camera was off. He asked about herunusual outfit and learned that everything she wore was of her owncreation. He stopped short of asking if she wanted to have anexhibition here herself. Fashion was an art form too, and there wasno reason they couldn’t incorporate it. Marcello would decide ifthe offer should be extended or not. No doubt he would have otherideas as well. They made plans to meet again, Miyû shaking his handand bowing before leaving.
“That went well,” Timsaid, not hiding his surprise. “Right?”
