She takes a deep breath and turns around to face me with a smile. I know she’s playing strong and I’m proud of her for not letting that event take her down.
“I’m doing fine. I need your help…” she begins walking towards the living room, follow by me.
“I wanna know what happened, Malu. And don’t even begin by saying it was nothing.”
She lets her head down, takes a deep breath and nods in agreement.
“I did everything as planned. I went there, explained that I’m not happy so I want to change majors, that there’s no way I can get through this shitty course they want me to take.” She begins her narrative, and I don’t interrupt her. “First, the Judge yelled at me. He said his money doesn’t grow on trees and I’m going to finish to course one way or another. When I said I wouldn’t, he jumped over me saying he wouldn’t take it.”
“Did he hit you?”
“Yeap. He gave me thirty days to find an apartment I can afford with my own money, since I’d never be able to afford a place like this. He suspended my allowance, my tuition and everything else. Oh, and he also said I’m a whore who doesn’t belong to that family anymore.”
“You’re not a whore” I replied feeling irritated.
“The first virgin whore in history” she says laughing and I help but laughing of her sense of humor. “If you had had sex with me, at least there would have been some truth in it.”
“You deserve more than some guy with relationship issues.”
“Save it, Rafa. Who says I even want a relationship? I’ve told you already that I don’t believe in any of this eternal love shit.” She shakes her frog bracelet to remind me of where she stands.
“If you didn’t believe in it, you wouldn’t still be a virgin.”
“I must stop hanging out with you. All the guys who want to bang me are afraid of being punched by you.” I can’t help but laughing of what she’s saying. “I don’t know of one single relationship that has worked out or of a love story that has lasted forever. This is soap opera material – or movies, for that matter. Love is a son of a bitch invented for delusional fools.”
“What should I do with you, Malu?” She’s the most honest person I’ve ever met.
“How about helping me figure out my life? I don’t know what to do. After my life is settled down again, I’ll find some hot cutie to take me to bed and solve this inconvenient issue.”
“Damn it, Malu.”
“Damn you what? I’m sick and tired of this shit. I know you hold your horses because of that. You think I don’t feel your little buddy all agitated when I’m around? This way, when one of us is need of a more intimate care, we may turn to each other as we already do when we need someone to talk. You won’t have to search for skanks on the streets anymore.”
“Foul mouth.”
“Stubborn.” She smiles and I can’t help thinking about everything she just said. “Well, but before pleasure, I must decide what to do. I have to move out from this apartment.” She looks around with sadness. I know how much she likes this place, where she’s been living for so long.
“You can stay at my place…”
“No way” she doesn’t even let me finish.
“But Malu…”
“Rafa, no. You have your own life. I don’t earn a lot at the bar, but I can always ask Tito to let me work more hours.”
My face shows how unpleased I am at the same time I try to think of a way of finding her another job. Suddenly, an idea emerges.
“Let me take a look at your atelier.”
“What? Why?”
“Just because. Come on, move this pretty ass and open the mystery room door. I want to check it out.”
She unwillingly leads me to the bedroom she keeps locked out, as if she’s hiding a big secret there. When she opens the door, the smell of paint and thinner hits us. She walks in and opens the curtains, while I wander around surprised at what I see.
I thought there would be average paintings. For what Malu has told me, she’s never taken art classes and everything she knows, she’s taught herself or learned by watching videos on the internet. She uses her sixth sense to lay on canvas what’s on her imagination. However, to my surprise, her work seems really good. Of course, I’m no art expert, but to the best of my little knowledge, I could see great potential. I head to a pile of paintings in a corner: landscapes, people, a boy on a surfboard trying a maneuver, half the face of a sad woman with black tears running through her cheek. Those paintings bring up different feelings for me. I immediately reach for my phone in my pocket and call Hellen.
Hellen’s a friend of my parents who owns an art gallery. By the age of fifty, she possesses an incomparable sincerity. She’d be able to take a look at Malu’s production and evaluate if we could get anything for it.
“Have you ever shown anyone these paintings? Like, selling or something like that?” I ask Malu while I wait in line.
“No, never” she replies, to which I shake my head turning my attention to the phone.
“Hi, Hellen. Rafael Monteiro here. How are you? I’m great. Sorry for bothering you so early, but I need your professional opinion. A friend of mine has some paintings and today she’s finally agreed to show me. I’m no expert, but I thought them quite good. Could you take a look and give us an expert opinion? She has to decide if she’s still going to pursue a career in arts and we’d really appreciate an evaluation from a professional. Sure, I’ll text you the address right away. Looking forward to hearing from you. Thank you.”
“What was that?” she asks looking confused.
“Hellen owns an art gallery. She’s stopping by in a couple of minutes. Apparently, she’s been looking for a new artist to exhibit in her gallery for about months now, since the one who was booked decided to leave everything behind and move to Paris.
“Exhibit?” Malu sounds strangely scared.
“What? Isn’t that the goal when someone paints?
“Oh… I don’t know.” She looks at me apparently lost. I pull her closer to hug her.
“What about this? Hellen stops by to take a look at your paintings and tell us if you have a chance of turning this into a career. Then, we’ll see what to do about the house situation. When your grandparents died, haven’t they left you and your brother some sort of trust fund?
“I suppose so, but the Judge has always told me I could only get access to it by the age of twenty-seven.”
“Do you have any paper attesting that?”
“I don’t know” she looks at me, takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “I don’t even know what a paper like this looks like. What kind of shitty Law student am I?”
I look at her and can’t help but laughing of her frustration.
“Come on, my dear foul-mouthed girl. Show me where you keep your papers and I’ll search for it.”
Chapter five
“And maybe I wanted to give up, but maybe, just this once, I should move on.”
Ana Carolina
Malu
All that fear that I hadn’t felt when facing the possibility of starting over hits me now that Rafa has called that art gallery woman. Holy shit! I’m not ready to show anyone my amateur artwork. It’s hard enough to have him wandering around and touching my stuff, let alone having a stranger here.
Feeling my whole body trembling, I go to my bedroom where all my papers are. I feel stupid for not having any idea about my rights. At least, I’m organized regarding my paperwork. I come back to my atelier to find Rafa standing still, looking at one of my paintings on an easel. Curious to know what’s that he’s looking at so closely, since the easel was facing backwards, I get into the bedroom holding a folder in my hands and stop right next to him. Hum… shit.
“Where did you find this?” I ask, putting the folder over a stand, suddenly feeling shy.
“In that corner over there.” He points to some paintings which were leaning to a cupboard. I don’t even remember putting them there.
The painting he’s looking at is a self-portrait in watercolors. It’s a nude, wherein I’m lying down on a canopy bed with red satin sheets, displaying an uneven Chanel haircut style in my natural color: black. I had my breasts exposed and my hips covered by a thin almost-transparent fabric. Beyond the red sheets, the spotlight was on my tattoos: colorful flowers on my right shoulder, a sentence in an infinity shape on my wrist and a rose starting from my left ankle going all the way down to my foot.
My face had a serious look, with languid eyes and parted lips. It’s definitely a sexy portrait, but I’ve never considered sharing it with anyone.
Without saying a word, I come closer and lift the painting up to put it back where it was.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Putting it away. You were not supposed to see it.”
“Why not?”
“Just because. I haven’t painted it for showing publicly. There are some things that are personal.”
“That’s your most beautiful piece. It’s sexy, sweet, inspiring. You must show her” he says in a low voice, which makes me stop midway. I lean my head down and he comes closer, holding my arms from behind.
“No… I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me feel… exposed.”
“It’s beautiful, Malu. If there’s one painting, she should see, that’s the one. You must share your art with others.” He says precisely the one thing that would be able to convince me at the exact moment the doorbell rings. He takes the painting off my hands, put it back on the easel and, holding my hand, walks towards the front door.
A petite old lady with blond hair up on a bun is standing at the door. She’s wearing a beautiful green dress, low heel shoes, and an elegant handbag. Her makeup is impeccable and, when she sees Rafa, she opens a welcoming smile and hugs him, who, in turn, leans down to kiss her on the cheek.
“What a pleasure to meet you again, my dear. You’re using your hair short now, so handsome” she says making him smile.
“That’s my pleasure, Hellen. It’s been many years since we’ve met in person, hasn’t it? You still remember me with long hair.”
“Actually, last time we’ve met in your father’s place, your hair was neck length, and you were still rebelling against adulthood conventions.”
Rafa laughs loud and hard before inviting her in. She stopped right in front of me, measuring me from head to toe. Shit. I should be wearing something more… adequate? She then smiles.
“And who are you?”
“Er… Malu.”
“How exotic. Just Malu?” she asks me, making me feel a bit embarrassed for not introducing myself properly. If the Judge could see me now, my manners would make him pass out.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Maria Luiza Bragança, but nobody calls me that. Just my father.”
“Nice to meet you, Malu. Hellen Torres.” She shakes my hand and pulls me for a hug. After greeting me, she turns back to Rafa. “Is your girlfriend the artist?”
“We’re not dating”, I reply quickly, before she gets things the wrong way.
“Malu is a friend of mine, Hellen. She’s leaving Law School because painting is what she really likes. I’ve found a whole world of paintings in a bedroom she uses as her atelier. I’d like you to take a look at them to see if her skills have trade value enough for her to consider a full-time dedication.”
“Well, you both know how hard it is to make a living with art in this country” she says, following Rafa to my atelier, “but…”
She gets in and comes across that painting Rafa had placed over the easel, but now facing the door.
Hellen suddenly stops talking and walks towards the painting, watching it in silence. With my whole body trembling, I feel a lump in my throat that won’t let me breath. I leave the room in pursuit of a cigarette and some water.
After drinking a whole glass of water in one gulp, I move to the balcony, where I light my cigarette and lean on the grid to look at the view. I’m not ready to hear someone saying my paintings are bad. Not at all.
I stay there for some time until Rafa joins me at balcony and holds my hand.
“Put out that cigarette and come with me.”
“No… you can tell me later whatever she said.”
“I can’t decide your exhibition details for you” he says. Suddenly I’m taken over by a choking cough episode. “I’m so tired of asking you to go easy on the cigarettes.”
While he stubs my cigarette out in the closest ashtray, I look at him jaw-dropped in complete disbelief.
“Holy fuck, Rafa, maybe the smoke’s clouded my brain. I could swear I heard you say ‘my exhibition’.” I say, air quoting and laughing, completely skeptical. He can’t be serious.
“Shhh! I’ll have to do something about this foul mouth of yours. That would probably scare all you potential clients” he says, popping my eyes out of my head. “She’s totally charmed in there with everything you’ve already done. But that painting you wouldn’t let anybody see is the one that Hellen is in love with. Come, she’s waiting.”
We walk towards the atelier to find that Hellen has a notebook now and she’s making an inventory of everything there.
“Oh, my dear! Such a talent! This one is my favorite. Have you named it?”
“No regrets” I reply, making her smile with sparkling eyes.
“Oh, that’s perfect! I’ve called in my assistant Jacques. He’s on his way and we’re going to make a full inventory of all these pieces for the exhibition. July 6
th
No regrets“Name? Drop” I reply, making her smile again. “It’s a surf slang, meaning going down the wave from crest to base” I explain, to which she smiles even more. Hellen takes her phone, still making notes and, suddenly, she’s talking to someone.
“Nuno, my dear! Hellen here! I’ve just found what you were looking for.” She listens for a while and speaks again. “You’re not going to believe this. I’ve found a new artist. She’s exhibiting in July, but one of her paintings is exactly what you had asked me before. You know I usually don’t choose favorites, but, in this case, I thought I better call you first. Check your email.”
She waits for a couple of minutes, and, suddenly, she’s speaking again.
“Isn’t it? It’s even more wonderful in person. Do you want to make an offer? How much? Oh, Nuno. Well, let’s wait for the exhibition then. No, my dear, this is definitely one of the names of the new generation of visual artists we’re talking about. What you’re offering me is dirt-cheap. We can start talking on twelve. But you know that in the exhibition, that would be at least eighteen.
Hellen proceeds to an intense discussion until, finally, the man gives in and she hangs up looking satisfied.
“Well, first sold painting.”
“Already?” Rafa and I ask at the same time.
“Sure, pumpkins. I’m not here to play!” She smiles and gives gentle pats on my cheek. “My commission is twenty percent. We’ve sold Drop for sixteen thousand and five hundred. Nuno is a regular client, and, by the end of the day, the money will be at the gallery’s bank account and I’ll transfer you share.
She keeps talking and I feel dizzy.
“You said sixteen thousand?”
“That’s right. Jacques must be almost here, he’ll bring a contract and take your information, including your bank data. It’s a good thing your lawyer is here” she says with a smile and goes back to her inventory.
I leave the room and go back to the balcony, reaching for a cigarette pack in my pocket. I’m about to light it when Rafa comes closer, takes the cigarette out of my lips and throw it away.
“Are you okay?”
“Sixteen thousand?” I ask, to which he nods smiling.
“Yes. You do have a bank account, right?”
“Just a joint account with the Judge” I reply, still dizzy.
“Well, after I check that contract and they’re done here, I’m taking you to a bank to get you one. This amount of money will be enough to rent an apartment and pay your bills for some time. With an exhibition in the horizon, I don’t see any reason to be worried, for now.”
I’m sitting down, facing the view from the balcony, looking ahead without actually seeing anything.
“Sixteen thousand?” I ask again, making Rafa laugh.
“Congrats, miss Artist. I’m proud of you” he says, taking me to sit on his lap, holding my body in a tight hug.
Here, with my body next to his, I come to the conclusion that, even when it seems that it’s better to just give up, moving forward might be the best option.
Chapter six
“Being happy is to stop being a victim of problems but become an actor in history itself.”
Charles Chaplin
Malu
Only one hour left until the exhibition opening. Even now I can’t believe that time has passed so quickly. During this period, with Rafa and Helen’s support, I managed to get my life back on track.