By Chris H.

I worked in the coffee shop across from the big campus. I was used to seeing the Spanish guy meeting the art instructor from the college for coffee. He was obviously infatuated with her. I couldn’t understand it. She was one of the most unpleasant people I had ever had to wait on. Not rude, exactly, but brusque, and she seemed to look down her nose at anyone who had to wait tables. He, on the other hand, was charming and always nice. Even when he was with her, he still took the time to say hello to me and ask me how I was. When he got there before her, he would even chat with me some. His name was Bart, and he was a painter. He would tell stories about growing up in Spain, and talked about living with his father. He always made me laugh. But then, she would show up, and his entire focus was on her. The two of them argued about art every time they got together. Technique this, style that. I couldn’t stand watching them together for long. He was so in love with Liz (her name), and she couldn’t possibly appreciate such a man. Can you tell I have a little infatuation of my own?

On my day off, I liked to head to the art district downtown, and stroll through the galleries along Lincoln Road. You see, I am an artist too, but not a very good one, at least by my standards. My paintings lacked imagination, my sketches were tired. I thought a little about becoming a critic, because I certainly knew what wasn’t good! I had recently taken up sculpting, with clay, and was finding myself a little happier with the pieces I turned out. The fact that the best ones were all of a certain Spaniard didn’t concern me too much. I was still just learning this art form, and his perfect face was one of my favorite subjects, even down to the slight dimple in his nose. I had worked a long time to get that right. Anyway, I digress from my story.

I was off from work one weekday, wandering through the galleries. I strolled into a place, and looked around briefly. A woman behind a desk watched me for a moment, then politely asked if she could help me. I smiled, and said that I was just looking.

“Well, my name is Gloria. If you need anything, just let me know. Hi, Art.”

A voice behind me said, “Good morning, Gloria.”

I jumped. It was Bart from the coffee shop! I would recognize his voice anywhere.

I turned and saw Bart, except it wasn’t Bart. He looked just like him, except he didn’t wear glasses and his hair was pulled back. He looked at me for a second, then said, “Hello, I’m Art Dodge. This is my gallery. Were you interested in a particular piece?”

“No, no. I am just looking.” I couldn’t help staring. I remembered overhearing Bart talking about his brother Art when he was with Liz, but I didn’t know they were twins. When I spoke, I saw him start. He glanced back at me, and his eyes opened wide for a second. He knew who I was. I turned away quickly, very confused. How could he possibly know? What was going on here? There was no doubt in my mind that he had recognized me. How could he possibly know me? There was only one place I had ever seen Bart. That was at the coffee shop and Art had never been there with him. I would not have forgotten that there were two such faces. But if Art knew me, that meant… he had to have been impersonating Bart at least once. Could there be another explanation? It would be really easy for these two to fool someone. I could not imagine two people being more identical. I hadn’t looked at Art for long, but he was exactly like his brother. I had studied that face so many times at the coffee shop, I could see it with my eyes closed and I would recognize it anywhere.

I studied the incredibly ugly painting in front of me very carefully, while I tried to think. Why were they both dating Liz? I felt like running out of the gallery as fast as I could, but I was too curious. What were these two doing? I moved from painting to painting, trying to think. As I examined each work, it occurred to me that these paintings were dreadful. I had seen better work on the old rags I used to clean my brushes. The colors didn’t work together. There seemed to be only random blobs of paint, nothing that would even suggest the subject matter. Perhaps the artist was blind, I thought.

As I continued to ponder the situation, I heard the gallery door open, followed by the click of high heels on the tile floor. A high-pitched little girl voice said, “Hi, Gloria, is Art in?” I turned as I heard Gloria send a message over the intercom. I tried to watch without being too obvious as Art breezed out of the door at the rear of the gallery, and moved quickly to the tall, slender blonde at Gloria’s desk.

“Betty,” he cried, as he kissed her briefly on the lips. He glanced my way, then said, “So, are you ready to go?” as he grabbed Betty’s arm and herded her toward the door.

“Wait, Art,” she said, “I told Liz that we would meet her and Bart at the restaurant for lunch, but she hasn’t been able to get in touch with him. Do you know where he is?”

Art stammered, “No, I don’t know… No wait, this was the day he was supposed to go out to the Keys, wasn’t it, Gloria?”

“I don’t know, Art. I didn’t know I was keeping up with his calendar, too,” Gloria replied, in a very sarcastic tone.

“Oh, I think it was. Betty, let’s go…”

He grabbed her elbow again and moved her toward the entrance. He managed to get her out the door, but I could still hear her protests as the door closed behind them. I stood there, trying to process what I had just seen. Art and Betty, Bart and Liz. Were these women friends? I heard the squeak of the gallery door as it opened again.

I turned as I heard Gloria exclaim, “Bart! I thought you were going to the Keys today. You just missed Art and Betty. She wanted you and Liz to have lunch with them.”

She had the same sarcastic tone to her voice, and I wondered if she always talked that way.

“Oh, really? Do you know where?” Then he noticed me. He didn’t seem to pay any attention to Gloria’s next reply as he moved over to me, and said, “You are Carrie, right? From the coffee shop?”

I still don’t know why I did it. But instead of saying yes, another voice from within me said, “No, I am not. Do I know you?”

His face froze for an instant, then he said, “Oh, I… I am sorry. You look so much like a waitress named Carrie at the coffee shop next to the college.”

“Oh! You know Carrie? She is my sister. We are twins. My name is Cassie,” I blatantly lied as I reached out my hand. He shook my hand, and I could see the tension leave his face. I said, “It seems we have something in common. I just met your twin brother.”

“Yes? Well. I have to say, that you and your sister are as close to identical as any twins I ever saw,” he smiled.

“You say that after looking in the mirror every morning?” I replied.

He laughed, and after a few seconds I joined him. I wasn’t sure if I was trying to hide from him that I knew the secret he and his brother kept, or if I was angry with them for doing such a thing to any woman, even Liz. We exchanged a few pleasantries, and then I fled from the uncomfortable situation.

I usually hit several galleries on my weekly excursions, but on that day, I caught the bus and headed straight home. As I sat on the bus, I tried to think. As much as I was attracted to Bart, I couldn’t help thinking he must be trying to pull something on Liz. I just couldn’t figure it out. She was a college instructor, so I assumed she probably made a decent salary, but not enough to set up for some kind of money scam. Still, the art in the gallery was miserable stuff, which made me think some sort of con game had to be going on. And how did Betty fit into the scheme? I had to find out, but I wasn’t sure how to do it.

My first chance came the next day. I was waiting tables as usual, when Liz came into the shop. She sat down, and after a few moments, I walked over to her. She ordered the same plain black cup of coffee she always did, but before I left the table, I said, “My sister met Bart yesterday, and his brother Art.” She looked at me with an irritated glare. “Oh. I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yes, we are twins, just like Art and Bart. She said she saw Art with a pretty blond at his gallery, then met Bart. He mistook Cassie for me. Bart, that is. Do you know who the other woman was?”

“Yes, she’s my sister and Art is her fiancé,” she snapped. “I don’t know what Betty sees in that sleazy man. I am sure he is only after her money.”

“Oh,” I replied. I smiled, then moved away from the table. I was so disappointed. Bart and Art had to be in this together, and they were playing Liz and her sister, just to get the sister’s money. This charming man who I couldn’t get out of my mind was really only a con artist. When he arrived to join Liz, I took his order, but left before he started his usual charming conversation with me. I was angry him and I wasn’t even the one due to take the fall.

I watched them talk, as I usually did. He gazed at her, almost nonstop, and I couldn’t help wishing that I was in Liz’s chair, with those warm, spice-colored eyes staring deeply into mine. A customer then distracted me, and as I corrected a mistake on their order, I missed what must have been some heated words between Bart and Liz. All I saw was Liz as she stood up, tossed her paper napkin on the table and stomped out of the shop. The napkin ricocheted into Bart’s lap, and he managed to tip the table over as he tried to stand up and chase Liz. He stood there in the huge mess he’d made with the saddest look on his face. I finished with my other customer, then grabbed a broom and dustpan and made my way to the table. Bart had begun to clean up the mess; he picked up the table and when he saw me, he began apologizing.

“Carrie, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make such a mess…”

“Bart, don’t worry, it is ok! People do this all the time!” A small plot was forming in my mind. It was hard for me to stay angry with him. He couldn’t possibly be only after the money. That face was just too hurt. The plot that was growing larger in my mind made it easy for me to blame the whole scam on Bart’s brother. Yes, I told myself, it was all Art’s idea, and Bart was only protecting his twin. Bart kept apologizing and he tried to help me clean up the mess. I finally put my hand on his arm.

“Bart, don’t worry. Let me clean it up.” He looked up into my eyes. “Besides, I’ve only known you for five minutes.” I winked at him. He looked puzzled for a minute, then his head tilted to one side. “Cassie?” he asked.

I winked again. “Shhh. Carrie had something she needed to do so she asked me to work for her today. Please don’t tell me you and Art have never done the same thing.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Then he smiled and said, “sure, but not since we were kids.”

Oh, liar! I thought. “Look,” I said, “I get off from here in a half-hour. Let me buy you dinner. No arguments. I am not my sister. I can afford this. And you look like you need a shoulder to cry on.” He protested a few times, then agreed. “Ok,” I said. “You can pick me up at this address at 8:00. That will give me a chance to clean up a little.” And to figure out what I would wear, and where I could possibly afford to take him for dinner. He smiled, although it was a sad smile, and nodded. I rushed home after he left, showered and slipped on the only dress I owned, the standard sleeveless black dress; accompanied by the silver necklace and earrings that completed my “dating uniform.” Simple but elegant, I hoped. I watched for the blue Mustang convertible out the window. I didn’t want him to see my apartment, especially with the sculptures of him all over the place.

I saw him pull the car up to the curb, and I raced down the stairs to meet him. I met his eyes as I emerged from the doorway onto the street. His eyes widened when he saw me. “Carrie? Uh I mean Cassie? Wow! You look terrific!” I was enjoying the idea of this new persona I had created. I could make Cassie be anything I wanted her to be. And Cassie was not going to be the shy quiet waitress that Bart knew! I linked my arm through his and boldly kissed him on the cheek. “Bart, you look great too!”

The brown sport coat he wore brought out the color of his dark eyes. I wanted to take those glasses off of him, but, well, maybe I would have the chance later.

“I have the perfect place in mind. Do you know Caffe Abbracci?”

I couldn’t afford this place, but I didn’t care. I had called around and they had a reservation available. Someone had cancelled, and I was lucky enough to call at the perfect time. He protested about the price, but I scoffed.

“I told you I am not my sister. She is a starving artist. I am in marketing. Uh-uh, not another word,” I said as I put my finger to his lips.

Bart knew I had won, so he just smiled and opened the door of his car. He helped me in, then drove us to restaurant.

Our conversation mostly consisted of me asking Bart questions about him, his brother and his family. He didn’t seem in a talkative mood, So I finally asked, “Now Bart, this evening is supposed to be to cheer you up. What happened today between you and …her name is Liz?”

He didn’t say anything at first, then he started to explain. “Ay yi yi!! It is huge mess! My brother is marrying Liz’s sister, Betty, next Saturday. Art doesn’t really want to marry her; she is just rushing in, and he can’t say "no" to her. Liz hates Art. She will throttle him if he hurts Betty. And now she’s pissed at me for not stopping the wedding. But I don’t know what to do. I can’t talk to Betty. Nobody can talk to Betty. She just goes nuts if anyone even suggests the wedding should be postponed. I really care for Liz, and I don’t want to ma… to hurt her or her sister in any way.”

“Now, Bart. It just sounds to me like Liz is worried about her sister. Why doesn’t Art want to marry Betty? Nope! Don’t answer that! Never mind. We are supposed to being forgetting about them tonight! I think to cheer you up, we need to have a wonderful meal, dance some, you do dance, don’t you? and just don’t think about them for one evening. Then the next time you think about it, you will have a clear head and you will know just what to do! Tonight, let’s just have fun! What do you say?”

He glanced at me as he drove, then laughed a little. “I can see how you are good at marketing your ideas. Ok, tonight we will have some fun. I promise I will not think about them, only you.”

Ahh, if that were only true, I thought.

We arrived at the restaurant in what seemed to be the middle of a party. We were seated promptly, but it was hard to concentrate on the menu with all the activity. There was a band playing Latin music, and dancers on the large dance floor. I was a little confused as it was supposed to be an Italian restaurant, but our waiter quickly explained that on weekends, Brazilian émigrés usually occupied the place, and the dancing and partying went on late into the night. We stared at the menus for a few minutes, then ordered drinks from our waiter. As we waited, we watched the dancing. I was amazed at what I was seeing. The band began playing a new song, and Bart shouted at me across the table, “Do you mambo?”

“I don’t know. I never tried,” I shouted back.

He stood up and held his hand out to me. I gulped, took his hand and stood up, hoping I wouldn’t kill myself. He was smiling at me, with that warm friendly look I had seen on his face so often when he talked to Liz. I looked away from him for a few seconds, because I was afraid what I felt for him was plastered all over my face. I put on a huge smile then leaned toward him and said, “So, do you know how to do this?”

He just tugged my hand and pulled me toward the dance floor. He placed one hand on my hip; the other held my hand firmly. He pulled me towards him and said in my ear, “What’s wrong, Cassie? Don’t know the dance? Come on, just follow, you can do it!”

He suddenly dropped his hand from my hip, and before I knew what was happening, he reached his hand high in the air and spun me. I whirled around, then felt his firm grip on my hip as he regained control of my movement. An involuntary laugh escaped my lips, as his hands firmly told me where I was supposed to go. He looked in my eyes as I giggled, and a huge smile broke across his face. He said something, but I couldn’t understand what he said. I shook my head, and pointed at my ear. He tossed his head back and laughed, then nodded and whirled me around the dance floor.

I watched our feet for a few seconds, trying to grasp what I was trying to do. I felt his hand move from my hip, then felt his fingers under my chin. He pulled my face upwards, and his hand found my hip again. “Look at me,” he mouthed. I looked at his face, still lit with a huge smile, and it was at that point that I no longer heard the music. My feet were moving with the rhythmic sound, but I was feeling the music more than hearing it. I wasn’t much of a dancer, but I knew that he was making me look good. With his eyes fixed on mine, and his hands and feet guiding me, I felt like one of those ballroom dancers in a competition.

When the song ended, he pulled me to him, and held me for a few seconds. I was completely breathless, and I could feel his breathing from the exertion of the energetic dance. I wanted to dance again, but at that moment the band announced that they were taking a break. With his arm still around my waist, he guided me back to our table.

As we sat down, he said, “You dance well for someone who doesn’t mambo.”

“It seems I had a very good instructor.”

We talked a bit more, then ordered dinner. We talked and ate, enjoying the perfect evening. The band started playing again, but the music was quieter, more appropriate for dining, although some couples still gently swayed around the dance floor. We talked as if we had known each other forever. When our waiter brought our dessert, he asked us if we planned to stay for some more dancing. “The next set,” he said, “ will be more great dance music. You should stay! It is lots of fun, and you two looked great together on the dance floor before.”

I looked at Bart. “Do you want…” we said simultaneously. We both laughed, and said, “Yes!” together.

We finished eating, and waited for the band to resume. The band began playing another mambo tune. Bart stood up and offered me his hand. I stood and took it and he whirled me onto the dance floor. His hand on my hip was sending an electrical current through my body, and I danced with a wild abandon, as if I knew that this was the only way I would ever have him. The dance was long and as it ended, I fell into his arms, exhausted from the effort. He held me, then as the band began to play a slow song, he began slowly swaying and we danced, our bodies touching and my head nestled just under his chin. We drifted slowly around the floor; the only music I heard was from the heat of his body next to mine. The band finished the song, and we separated and clapped.

Bart then said, “I am so sorry, Cassie, but I really need to leave. It has been a fabulous evening, and I really don’t want it to end, but…”

I smiled, and nodded. “Yes, it is getting late and we should be going.”

I paid the bill, hoping that I had only gasped inwardly as I saw the amount. But it was worth it. I was so happy, and Bart was still smiling. He put his hand on my back as we left the restaurant, and I felt the same thrill at his touch. A gentle sigh of great contentment escaped my lips as he opened the door of his car and helped me into the seat.

He got in and said, “You were right, Cassie, this is just what I needed. I had so much fun, and I thank you for giving me such a fantastic evening.”

I closed my eyes, smiled and said, “the pleasure was all mine.”

We talked a little as he drove me home, but I don’t remember much except the warm glow I felt. He pulled the car up to the curb near where he picked me up, then walked me to the door of my apartment. He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it, then took me into his arms and kissed my lips very gently. His warm lips sent a tingle all the way to my toes. His tongue slipped across my lips and briefly entered my mouth. Then he pushed me away from him. I so wanted to take his hand and drag him upstairs, confess my feelings for him, but I knew that his heart was still with Liz.

“Ah, Cassie, me has desconcertado por completo. Thanks again for a wonderful evening. Good night,” he whispered, then he watched as I opened the door and disappeared.

I fell into bed that night, completely exhausted, but I didn’t sleep well. I kept thinking about what he said. I had grabbed my Spanish/English dictionary as soon as I came in the apartment and tried to translate his comment. He was confused? Why did he say that? I tossed and turned all night. Bart, why did you kiss me that way?

---

Part 2

I felt badly about deceiving Bart, and I knew that it had not been a good idea to get so close to him. I could still feel where his hand had been on my hip, as if it had burned a mark into my flesh. For several nights, my dreams were filled with the images of sweeping around a dance floor. In my dreams, I could hear his voice as he whispered, “Good night…”

I went to work for the next few days without seeing him or Liz. I remembered he said that Art was to marry Betty the following weekend, so I assured myself that the wedding plans were keeping them away. I felt deprived by his presence; I wanted to see him again, and tuck away one last memory of my special night as Cassie. Work was as tedious as always, and now I couldn’t even afford the materials to do any sculpting to ease my tension after my extravagant self-indulgence. I thought the pleasure of the evening would be enough, but I found that I longed for more.

I didn’t see him again until three weeks later. When he first sat down, a thrill ran through me, but as I looked at him, I realized that it was his brother Art. The long curly hair was pulled back, and he didn’t wear glasses. It was uncanny how much they resembled each other. I walked over to his table and asked him what he wanted.

He looked at me, and smiled sadly. “Just black coffee. And… I came to apologize, Carrie.”

“You are Bart’s brother, right?” I replied, “Why do you want to apologize to me?”

He closed his eyes, and said, “There is no Bart, there is only me, Art. How can I explain this? I was engaged to Betty, but I thought I loved her sister. I invented Bart so I could see Liz. Then Cassie came along and… I don’t know how everything got so screwed up. Does Cassie ever mention me? I mean Bart? Ahhh, what a mess I’ve made.”

I was stunned by the revelation. And what had he said about Cassie? He was Bart, no, Art… I put my hand on the table to balance myself. My eyes were closed and I don’t know how long I stood there.

His hand touched mine as he said, “Carrie? What’s wrong?”

He stood and, as gracefully as the man I knew as his brother, he upended the table. We bent together to pick everything up; he apologized profusely, as I tried to tell him to stop. As we finished cleaning, he sat down. I couldn’t think. How could I tell him Cassie was as real as Bart was?

He asked, “Can you talk to me for a few minutes?”

I mumbled, “Sure, I am due for a break, just let me tell someone.” I wandered back to the kitchen, desperately wondering what to say. There was no Bart? I had been infatuated with a person who didn’t even exist? The irony of my role as my own twin hit me as I was telling the shop manager that I was going to take my break now. I started giggling, and as I thought about it, my laughter increased. I stopped long enough to get myself under control before I went back to talk to Art. I walked back to his table, and sat down.

He said, “Carrie, I am sorry, I deceived you too. I don’t know what to say.” He paused. “How can I get in touch with Cassie? I have to apologize to her and try to explain.” He shook his head. “What was I thinking?”

I sat down at his table. “Bart, uh I mean Art, oh, crap,” I mumbled as I moved my hand over my face. “Um, I guess there isn’t an easy way to say this, so I will just say it. I am afraid I am guilty of fooling you, too. You see, I don’t have a sister Cassie, either,” I replied, not daring to look in his face.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then, “But, why? Why did you need a twin?”

I blushed and tried to explain, “ Oh Bart, uh Art. I knew you recognized me in the gallery that day. But I had never met you. I mean, I had only met Bart. So how did you know me? The only thing I could think of was that you had taken Bart’s place here at least once. So I made up Cassie on the spot. I still don’t quite know why. Oh, crap this sounds so ridiculous. Gosh, I am sorry…”

“Let me get this straight, you told me, no Bart, that you were Cassie, wait a minute, are we still in Miami? I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

I looked into the depth of his brown eyes and said, “Art, can you forgive me? I am really sorry.”

He looked back and didn’t say anything, and then a smile broke across his face. “Forgive you? For doing the same thing I did? But, jeez, Carrie, that night out… that must have cost you a month’s wages. Please let me make it up to you.”

I protested, but he shook his head. “Don’t argue, I’ll pick you up at nine tonight.” He picked up my hand and kissed it. “Now, I really have to run, but thanks for listening to me.”

He forgot to pay for his coffee, so I just paid for it myself. I watched him walk away, and couldn’t believe that I was actually going out with him again. And this time, Liz was out of the picture… The smile never left my face for the rest of my shift. I rushed home when I got off from work and frantically searched for clothes to wear.

He arrived at my apartment a few minutes early. I was a little afraid to let him see my place, but at the same time I wanted him in there more than anything. I let him in, while explaining that I wasn’t quite ready to leave. I left him in my “living room,” while I rushed around, trying to get ready. Then I heard his voice.

“Carrie, is this me? These are very good. I mean, it looks just like me, well more like Bart… You did these?”

I looked out from my bedroom. He had lifted the cover that I had tossed over my sculptures of Bart. “Oh, shit,” I mumbled under my breath. “What? I can’t hear you with the water running,” I yelled.

He didn’t look up at my words. He was picking up the pieces I had done and looking at each one carefully. I watched him for a moment. He didn’t seem too alarmed, so I went back to getting ready for dinner. When I emerged from my room, he looked up at me and said. “Wow. Carrie, you look… beautiful.”

He stepped over to me and took me in his arms. His lips found mine. I wanted him to rip my clothes off right there. He stopped and whispered in a husky voice, “We better stop this right now and go to dinner.”

He turned away, then said, “We had so much fun the other night, I got us a table at Caffe Abbracci again. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No! That sounds great!” I said, thinking I would rather stay here with his arms around me.

We went to dinner, danced and had another marvelous evening. When he brought me home, I invited him upstairs. I stumbled around in my kitchen, trying to make some coffee, but then felt his presence behind me. I felt his hands gently touch my arms, and he turned me around. I looked into his brown eyes, and he smiled then said, “Funny how you can’t see what is right in front of you sometimes.”

He leaned over me and his soft full lips brushed mine. He pressed his lips more firmly against mine, then gently bit my lower lip, as he pulled me closer. His tongue flicked across my lips, then pushed into my mouth and met my tongue. He engulfed me in his arms, and pressed my body up against the stove, as his kiss became more insistent. I could feel his hardness against my body, and I ached with desire for him. He gathered me up in his arms and carried me to my bed…

The next morning, I awoke with the sunlight streaming into my face. Art was not in the bed. I sat up, wondering why he would leave. I wandered out of my bedroom to find Art, wearing only his shorts, standing in front of my easel with a paintbrush in his hand. He was completely engrossed in what he was doing. I slipped behind him and watched him paint. He didn’t even realize I was there. It was a very abstract piece, but as I watched him, I realized he was painting us entwined together as we had been last night. It was as beautiful as the experience had been.

I finally cleared my throat. He jumped a little, then turned to me. “Carrie, how long have you been there?”

“Long enough to recognize what you are painting.”

“Do you mind? I… the image was there when I woke up, and I had to try to capture it.”

“Shhh. Why should I mind? It is beautiful. But you must give it to me. I don’t want this to ever be out of my possession.”

He dropped the brush and moved to me. The scent of his body mingled with odor from the paint and mineral spirits. He slipped his arms around my waist and kissed me. I felt the heat rise through me, wanting him to make love to me again as he had last night.

“Bart, oh crap, Art… whoever you are. Wow, that really takes the romance away doesn’t it?

I felt his laughter rumble up through his body. “Whatever you call me. It is still me. Carrie, I don’t know how say this to you, but…”

“Don’t say it. Show me,” I whispered.

Epilog: This was such an exciting night! Art’s wonderful paintings were finally to be shown at Gloria’s new gallery. He was so nervous and yet thrilled at the prospect. He couldn’t stand still as I straightened his collar. He turned around, swept me into his arms and whirled me around the room, laughing almost maniacally.

“Art! Put me down, silly.”

“Ah, Carrie do you know how much I love you?”

“Yes, you tell me that every five minutes.” His face fell. “Oh, don’t give me those sad eyes, you know I will never tire of hearing those words from you.”

He smiled again, and wrapped his arms around me. “Let’s forget the gallery and just stay here tonight. I want to keep you here.”

“Art! We cannot! Gloria would kill us both! Quit it now, there will be plenty of time for that after the show.”

His arms stayed around me as I tried to finish putting on make-up. I dragged him around, trying to convince him to let go. “Art! Unless you want to go to the gallery inside my dress with me, you have to let go!”

“Hmmmmm,” he mumbled against my neck. “I would love to stay inside your dress with you.”

I giggled and said, “You are impossible! Let go!”

I finally succeeded in escaping his grasp. He watched me as I slipped out of my robe and pulled my dress over my head. He turned away mumbling something in Spanish, and then turned back. “We don’t have to stay the whole time, do we?”

“ART! It is a showing of your paintings! Of course we have to stay. It won’t be that late, and I promise, if you will be good, I will make it up to you later tonight.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go, then. I want to get back here as soon as we can.”

We walked out the door, and I yelped as he playfully pinched my behind. “Watch it,” I said, “You have to behave in public.”

The gallery was crowded with people, sipping champagne, and I heard mostly good comments about Art’s work. I glowed with pride as if I had something to do with his talent, and I watched him as he moved from group to group, charming everyone as he always did. I turned to talk to someone, when I felt an elbow in my back. It was Gloria.

“Look,” she hissed in my ear. “It is Liz.”

I turned in time to see Art approaching her. She was looking at the picture that Art painted on our first morning together. They spoke quietly for a few moments, then I heard Art’s voice raised a little above the other conversation, “Liz, I want you to meet someone. Carrie?” he called.

I walked over to them, and as I approached, he put his arm around my waist, and said to her, “Liz, I would like for you to meet my wife, Carrie.”

I smiled and extended my hand to shake hers. She stood there for a few seconds longer than was polite, then slowly placed her limp hand into mine. She couldn’t remember why she knew me.

“Hi, Liz, so nice to see you again.”

She mumbled something, turned and walked out of the gallery door.

“I guess she didn’t see anything she liked,” Art whispered into my ear. Then he began to explain what he would do to me when we got home.

I turned to him and said, “Art, darling. Tonight it is what I will do to you when we get home…”

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