Is it supposed to happen like that? You're heartbroken, with a deep sense of worthlessness. You start having these ideas that you're not good enough, that they were right when they left you, and my personal favorite, 'How could anyone love you?' and you sink into a pit that requires a lot of energy and effort to get out of. Those thoughts can become so persistent. Thoughts that according to some therapists are very akin to depression.
And then you meet someone and they successfully manage to get your head off of it. It distracts you from the pain, it fills you with this sense of arrogance and self-important. Feeling that someone can be interested in you when someone else wasn't is very addictive.
It's that colloquial idea, isn't it? That in order to get over someone, you need to get under someone else.
Deep down we know. Everyone knows. It doesn't work like that. When you try to get over someone by getting under someone else you're basically creating a new problem for yourself, and leaving the first one unsolved. So now you've got two problems instead of one.
Getting over someone, it takes time, effort, acceptance, reflection, and more than anything... it takes forgiveness.
Not for them. I didn't do it because Ellen deserved it. And what happened later with Riley, I didn't do it because she deserved it either. It wasn't about them. Either of them. It was about me.
I wonder, if I would've known what I know now would've dealt with things differently? Probably. But then I wouldn't have learned what I needed to learn so, you need to put a price on the lesson.
This price was particularly high. It's the whole reason I'm writing this.
Ellen Dumont.
* * * *
I saw her four days later, at her opening, which Caroline made very clear was mandatory for me. Unlike the party, this time I decided to go all out. I bought a fancy blue dress, high heels, and even wore make-up for once. I kept having to buy dresses because the few I own, I left at the house.
Scott arrived to pick me up at around 8 PM. He said Dumont like's her art opening to be more like parties than actual openings so we could get there fashionably late.
I didn't understand what he met until we were there.
There was loud dark techno music coming from inside the gallery. With the exception of the lights illuminating the sculptures, every light was dimmed down, like a club's. Caterers were walking up and down offering people champagne, wine, and tapenade on toast. The glass walls of the gallery were now covered with a thin black veil, so while I could still see inside, it was a little blurry, so I couldn't figure out where Dumont was, assuming she'd even arrived.
"Names," the bouncer asked.
"Scott Keane and Faye Burton-Brenan," I said.
He took a while to find our names, once he did, he nodded and let us inside. The music was a lot louder than I thought. Everyone had a drink in their hand while walking around or discussing the pieces and Dumont was nowhere to be found.
"I was not expecting something like this," I said.
"Yeah, well, Dumont does like her opening to be... over the top. And it seems to work for her. Most of these will be sold by the end of the night."
I looked around at the sculptures. Ellen had a very peculiar style. It was an odd combination between Rachel Ara and Tara Donovan. She didn't focus on the materials she used. There were sculptures everywhere from wood, to crystal, to cables, to what looked like a statue made out of salt. Instead, her focus lied on the themes themselves. Ellen's sculptures were... well, women. No, that's not quite right. The sculptures were goddesses. There was something on their demeanor that allows you to understand that, while they looked like women, they were much more than that.
That actually explains the names up for auction at the party: Nina, Eola, Grecenth, Aphaea. Now that I think about it, there's something feminine about every name. I bet if I google them, they're all some kind of goddess.
"You like it?" Scott asked softly tapping me with his elbow.
"It's... fascinating."
"Yeah. Dumont can be a prick but no one can call her talentless."
"Yeah. They're beautiful. They're goddesses."
"What?" Scott leaned forward to examine the sculpture in front of him better. He craned his head to the side and asked, "What do you mean they're goddesses?"
"Oh, you figured out they're goddesses?" I heard a voice behind us. I turned to see Dumont having a sip of her champagne.
"They are, aren't they?" I asked.
"Absolutely. It's just that very few people here have been able to notice. I was beginning to wonder if I had overplayed it. This one, for example," she said pointing at the sculpture. It was a tall mix of metal rods, bent and welded together to give off the fading sensation of femininity. She seemed to have small red LED lights throughout her body. It gave her this illusion of power. "Her name is Alectrona. She's the daughter of Helios and Rhode. The goddess of the morning."
"I can see that. The lights on her body make her much more alluring. Like you chose where to light her up very purposefully."
Ellen Dumont grinned. "I did. It took me days just to be partially happy with the decisions I made. You probably know what I mean. You try for days to find the right color and then you apply it and it's so-"
"Disappointing!" I said finishing her idea.
"Exactly."
"How do you know I'm a painter?"
She rose her hands and moved her fingers. "Your hands are too pretty for a sculptor. And photographers always carry a camera with them. Right, Scotty?"
Scott snorted and said, "Leave me alone. You know what, you two seem to be having a great time, so why don't I just go get myself a drink and start doing my job."
After Scott left, Ellen asked if I had time for her to show me something. I answered I had all the time in the world. A little needy, yeah, I know. Not my best moment. She took me to the gallery's second floor. I didn't even know it had a second floor. At the end of the aisle, there was a large crystal double door, with foggy glass. She opened the door for me and showed me the biggest piece of the exhibition.
The ceiling was covered with glass sculptures, shaped as clouds. The different densities, and shades, and forms of the glass made it feel alive. Like the clouds were really moving.
"Wow. this is beautiful. How long did it take you to finish something like this?"
"A few months. More than a couple of cuts, but it was worth it. I'm very proud of how it turned up."
"Can I asked you something private?"
"Sure."
"How much does this one cost?"
She smiled. "That's actually a funny story. If you take a look up there," she pointed at the bottom right of the sculpture. there was a small sticker meaning it had already been sold. "You can see that someone already bought it. That's why the door was closed. The original price was, well, $340.000."
"Jesus!"
"Wait, that's not the fun part. Richard Snear and Andrew Caine, two people you'll get to know well enough, started getting into a dick-measuring contest again, so they got into a bet with each other."
"Why were they fighting?"
"I may or may have not got something to do with that. It wasn't hard, they both own big oil companies and are always at odds with each other. A part of me thinks they might be sleeping together which would actually explain a lot. Either way, whoever could pay more for this piece got bragging rights, so Andrew Caine ended up paying $520.000, just so that he got to say he was a better 'art appreciator'." She said this last part with air quotes and an exaggerated voice. "The best thing is, I want to donate my share of this sculpture to a group who's actually fighting against oil companies."
I laughed. "Amazing."
She turned the lights off, got out her phone, and turned the flashlight on. She pointed the light up and the crystal clouds reflected a spectrum of color throughout the room. It felt like I had been transported to another realm. To another reality. "Come here," she said extending her hand to me.
As I took her hand, Ellen pulled me closer. Our bodies were pressing against each other, but she didn't kiss me. She wanted me to kiss her and she wouldn't make a single move to get any tighter.
So I did. I leaned forward and kissed her, soft and slowly. She was a great kisser. No, not better than her. I don't think anyone can ever be better than her to me at pretty much anything, but Ellen was close.
Looking back, I didn't know it, but the not kissing me thing was red flag number one. I don't mean in general. If someone would rather for you to kiss them when you're just getting to know each other, it could be because they are giving you the chance to reject them if you feel uncomfortable. I know she does that. I mean she's like 5'9 and 140 pounds, so yeah. Guy rules apply to her. No physical strength, no obstruction of space, no overbearing behavior, nothing like that. She once said that her biggest fear was that the people she loved would ever fear her. She's very aware that she could beat up her own brother. And Scott. And her dad. And my dad, if he were alive. And those are all guys, so you can imagine she's very discrete with the way she treats women. So she never grabs a woman by the arm or blocks her exit or becomes aggressive in a way that might be perceived as threatening. And you can bet she never steals a kiss.
But this was not it. I would learn soon enough that Ellen measures her actions perfectly and me kissing her, was just one of those measurements. I know it doesn't seem to make that much sense right now, but it will.
I wrapped my arms around her neck and pushed her closer. She placed her hands on my hips but didn't do anything else. She wasn't doing anything to pull me closer to her, so it was on me to do it.
It felt weird but I decided to ignore it. We kissed for a while until someone knocked on the opened door to call our attention.
"Ladies, sorry to interrupt." Scott said, "Dumont, time for the piano."
Dumont apologized to me and left in a rush. Scott turned around conflicted with how he should react. Finally, he said, "Are you sure you want this?"
"What do you mean?"
"If you do decide to go back to you know who, wouldn't sleeping around make things worse?"
"One, it's just physical. She'd understand. Two, I'm not the one who left, so I'm not the one who needs to come back. And believe me, there's no way in hell she'll ever come back."
We should really be more careful with the words we use. Life has a thing about holding them against you.
Scott nodded and we went downstairs together. I regretted placing him in such a situation. He's my friend, that is true, but he's also her best friend, and in the end, his loyalty belongs to her, so I very much doubted he'd hide this from her. Which at the time it was more than fine by me. At the time I felt as emotionally mature as a fifteen year old girl. I wanted her to find out that I was fooling around with other people. I wanted for her to know I didn't need her, and to know that I was doing better than great without her.
Kinda pathetic if you ask me now. You need to do great for yourself, not to make your ex feel bad, because if you purposefully hurt someone else to exact a misguided attempt on revenge, then you're not that great of a person yourself, are you?