Twelve Ways to Be Distracted

I had enough cash to stop treating the next week's food as a negotiation, but not enough to confuse one good purchase with a profession. Mia and I took paid framing and collection-care jobs while the portrait was investigated further. Nia, twenty-seven, photographed works for owners who wanted good records. Bea, twenty-six, managed a small gallery and knew the difference between a buyer asking a question and a man enjoying the sound of himself asking it. They joined us at a private gathering where somebody suggested I must have become an expert overnight. Mia said I had become the owner of one very useful question. Nia took a picture of my expression before I could improve it.

Later Nia straightened my sleeve, kept her fingers there and asked if I was always so easy to surprise. I said the condition had recently become much worse. She invited me for a walk when there would be nothing to photograph except whatever we chose to remember. Bea asked me to dinner on another evening, where she wore green and let me discover she could make an ordinary story funnier by asking exactly the question I had hoped to avoid. I told both women I was dating without an exclusive promise. They could decide whether that suited them. Bea said she appreciated the answer and would appreciate it even more if I stopped rehearsing it like a sales condition.

Ava was thirty and reviewed a proposal from a dealer who wanted the portrait on terms that made it very easy for him to become important without paying us. She explained the problem, charged for her work and left us with a much better question to ask. At a friend's dinner later, Ava watched me lose an argument with an unfamiliar corkscrew and rescued the bottle without rescuing my dignity. Her hand touched mine as she passed it back. She said it was reassuring to discover the mysterious man still required ordinary help. We met personally another night, and her goodbye kiss gave me something much more interesting to remember than the wording of the dealer's proposal.

Jade was twenty-five, worked as yacht crew and had a dry opinion about men who described every good day as a new chapter. Faye was twenty-four and sang original music at small events. They joined a birthday evening where I arrived in a shirt Mia had helped me choose and discovered that buying better clothes did not teach me how to receive a compliment. Jade adjusted the collar and said I could start with thank you. Faye drew me into a dance and asked whether I was going to inspect the floor before agreeing to move. Later Jade invited me to a quiet meal, and Faye asked me to hear her own music when neither of us was working. I accepted without pretending the invitations meant less than they did.

Tess cooked for private events and was twenty-seven. She knew Lea and had watched me remain after a gathering to finish putting away chairs. Tess said a man who could be useful after everyone stopped watching deserved a better meal than the one I was proposing to make myself. She invited me out, wore red and caught my glance before I could hide it inside a conversation about ingredients. I said she looked beautiful. Tess smiled, leaned close and told me she liked an answer that did not need three introductions. The kiss outside afterward left me pleased enough that I forgot where I had put the car keys and had to return for them without inventing a sophisticated reason.

Joy owned a bookshop and was twenty-eight. Iris taught adults and was thirty-one. They came to see the portrait during an agreed private viewing, then stayed for a conversation that became much more enjoyable after we put the valuation papers away. Joy asked what I read for pleasure. Iris asked whether I had discovered a way to enjoy looking without estimating what the thing might later be worth. On separate evenings afterward Joy took my arm on a walk and Iris invited me to dinner. Both women kissed me goodbye; neither let the invitation become an excuse for me to talk only about the work. I began to understand that being liked by several people made attention more necessary rather than less.

Lena was twenty-nine and translated private correspondence. We paid her to help with letters connected to Ada's estate and kept the family's private material within the permission they had given. Some weeks later she invited me to a music evening as a person rather than a customer. Lena wore blue, sat close and laughed at the moment I tried to describe myself without mentioning a painting. She said I could begin with the fact that I had come. Her hand found mine, and I discovered how much easier a quiet evening became when I let a woman ask a question without planning the impressive answer before she had finished it.

Lea enjoyed our dates and did not need to pretend she was unaware of the others. Once, after a very good supper, she asked whether I was making room for a future with someone or simply furnishing the present with possibilities. I told her about the years I had lost, the work that had swallowed evenings and the people I kept assuming would wait. Lea said a second beginning sounded wonderful, but the other people inside it were living their first one. She leaned against me and kissed me gently before leaving. I sat for a while afterward, pleased by the affection and less pleased by how much work remained inside the question.

Mia asked her own version while we were alone after a long day. She took off her jacket, rested a hand at my shoulder and said she liked me enough to want an answer that existed outside the company. I admitted I liked her and Lea in different ways and had been hoping the future would choose the moment for me. Mia smiled sadly and said an entire extra decade had apparently failed to cure the habit of waiting. We talked, kissed and agreed that the next part needed clearer words before it received another pleasant evening. Her shares were not a reward for patience, and her skill was not something I could expect to remain available simply because she had once wanted to be close.