Escape From Bridezillia. Jacqueline deMontravel
as I seemed to be under the security guard’s surveillance from my earlier blurts.
“Look at how she’s holding down that hardwood table, practically making a Hulk-impressed dent. She needs the support to show herself truly. She needs the material goods. She asserts yet also retreats, not quite complete, certainly not at one with herself.”
“So I take it you two wouldn’t be meeting up at Pastis later?”
“No!” I laughed. “I’d be much happier taking in a morning run with Mrs. Stokes over there.”
While he glanced back to the other painting, I noticed J3’s build. Strong, he was also taller than I had remembered. Perhaps he just looked better because I’d only been with him a few times. And the first time we met was at a pool, where no one really looks the way they normally do under a haze of sun and through the tint of glasses. In fact, I’m almost fearful to imagine what I must have looked like. I panicked. I really needed to make more of an effort lounging poolside.
Stealing a peak at J3’s watch, I saw the time was just after 3:00 PM. I had to start wearing a watch, but anything other than Cartier would be unacceptable.
“Oh, jeez!”
“Emily? What is it?”
J3 looked concerned. I needed to calm down more. Perhaps take yoga. But I really didn’t like yoga.
“It’s just that I am supposed to meet my best friend—new client actually—but it is Daphne. She has two kids, a catering company, and a kitchen to renovate, so my being a bit late won’t really matter.”
Was this too much information? But J3 just smiled. He even appeared amused.
“Oh, well, I was hoping that I could take you to lunch.”
Really? Lunch! Hmm. Well, I could just blow off Daphne, she wouldn’t care, but then again today was career day, and the only thing marked in my Smythson business planner was this appointment, so it would be in poor favor to skip my one confirmed meeting for a friendly lunch—the hardship that came with ambition.
J3 led me in the direction of the room’s exit. We walked in a comfortable silence.
“Do you know what amazes me?” he asked.
I responded with a curious smile.
“Here I am in the business of interactive, cutting edge computers—noise, novelty, and annihilating your opponent in the most entertaining fashion. And here we are, looking at pictures, sculptures, created from very simple mediums, and yet they have the power to move. You can see more, learn more, and never tire of a painting. There is always something curious and new to be discovered. And, again, all created from very simple mediums.”
“Exactly,” I said, not understanding my response. “Then again, can you get to the level where you find the missing terrorist? Or whatever your best-selling game is that’s ripped off from the latest world crisis.”
Outside the museum we both looked at each other. I began to feel saddened by our coming departure.
“So?” he asked cautiously. “How’s Henry?”
“Yes, well. Henry.” I mumbled, looking down to my hand and then lifted up my engagement ring. “We’re engaged!”
J3 directed his gaze to my hand.
“Wow. Congratulations,” he said, sounding surprised.
“Thanks.”
“Your ring, it’s—” J3 made a sudden pause. “Nice.”
I looked to him amazed.
“That’s exactly how I said it, right after Henry gave it to me! Not that I’m materialistic or anything, but it just took me a minute to find the ring. Not that I’m a big diamond person. Working with my hands, I need to keep my hands free,” I mumbled in my insecure rant. “But it is rather small in diamond standards.”
“It looks like you have it properly safeguarded with all that tape.”
“Right,” I said, putting my hand back down. “It’s a bit big. The ring, not the diamond. So I need to get it resized.”
J3 took my hand, giving my fingers a thorough examination.
“And I see that you’re not one of those girls who goes for the picketed fingernail look.”
I forgot about the appearance of my nails, splotched with paint, my cuticles sanded down from work and packing.
“No. You know, considering that it’s difficult to maintain with my profession and all.”
“Of course!” he said in that “duh” way. “Your illustrating.”
“Painting, really. I’ve decided to focus on my art. That’s actually why I came here. I’ve been commissioned to do a few portraits and am curious about Sargent, using his career as a model for my own. You know, aim high!”
“Sargent,” he pondered to no one in particular. “Interesting choice. Most appropriate.”
“Well, then,” I leaned in awkwardly to give J3 another friendly kiss to the cheek, but this time his face did not warm with a blush. “So great seeing you. How funny that we bumped into one another? At the museum.”
Hello—of course at the museum.
I began to walk away, thinking about my dreaded cell phone that I’d have to use to call Daphne so I could apologize for my lateness.
“Hey, Emily,” called J3, running to my side. “I’m in the city for a few days before returning to L.A.”
“Gosh, you must think I’m such a Madame X, I haven’t even asked you what you were up to in the city.”
“Working, as always. Perhaps I can take you and Henry out for a celebratory engagement evening.”
“That would be great! It’s just that we’re a bit occupied right now.”
“Oh, right. Of course, with the wedding.”
J3 kept my pace, walking with me in the direction of Daphne’s.
“Well, actually we’re in the middle of a move. Or trying to be in the middle of a move. You see, there’s this great loft on Reade Street, but it’s so big and a bit out of our price range. But I so want for us to live there, as it’s now hard to imagine living somewhere less impressive, not that I am materialistic or anything,” I took a moment to remind myself that I wasn’t materialistic. “But we have to think unconventionally if we really want it. And here I am giving serious consideration to letting a fraternity brother of Henry’s named after the Tasmanian Devil move in with us.”
Did J3 have any clue how to interpret my language?
“Tasmanian Devil?”
“Taz, for short.”
J3 watched a couple as they pushed a canopied baby carriage past us, but I gathered he used them as a distraction so he could gather his thoughts.
“You know, Emily, I’ve basically made the Four Seasons my permanent New York address. I mean, they accept packages for me even when I’m not registered, plus the whole ‘Will you be having your freshly squeezed grapefruit and Frosted Flakes served to you at 6:00 AM?’”
“Frosted Flakes?”
“My livelihood comes from video games. Have to start my morning like a kid.”
“Love Frosted Flakes, especially the games. Except not my box’s current game.”
“The IQ test of the great Mesopotamians?” he said with a curious smile.
I nodded, somewhat astounded.
“That one was ridiculous. I felt so inadequate after basically being told that I was stupid,” he said.
“Me too!”