Mary Ellen’s shoulders started getting into it; her arms began pulsing at her sides. When was the last time she’d danced? Her niece’s wedding? That hadn’t felt like this; this was different. This moment—the music, the net of light, the sky, the freedom to move however she wanted—was transformative. It was as though she’d split down the sides and wriggled out of herself, the real Mary Ellen finally set loose on the world.
Suddenly, she found herself dancing in front of Justine. Where had she come from? “Where did you come from?”
“Over there. Having fun?”
“Are you kidding? Look at me. I’m dancing!”
“Yes, you are.”
“Thank you.” Mary Ellen paused her dancing and brushed her hair from her forehead. “For bringing me. And everything else. Teaching me all that stuff, helping me with Birgit.” She took a drink. “I just wish I had more time for taking pictures, you know? Work—” She flapped her hand in the direction of Center City. “Ugh.”
“Forget work.” Justine pointed a finger at Mary Ellen’s chest. “It’s time to start shooting. You need to produce.”
“I know. It’s just such a crazy time of year—”
“Aaahhh.” Justine waved her hand impatiently. “I hate when people say that. It’s always a crazy time of year. Take a sabbatical!”
“A sabbatical? Lord, they would kill me. We’re launching this new positioning platform. You have no idea what a big deal it is. We’re shifting from the word ‘safety’ to the word ‘trust.’” Mary Ellen peered down into her cup, shaking her head, then suddenly looked up and laughed. “Oh my God, is that the stupidest thing you ever heard?”
“Well, you can’t get anything meaningful done in your spare time. You’ll never get the momentum you need. I think you should take some time off…at least a week or two.”
“I don’t know,” Mary Ellen said. “I’ve never done anything like that.” Justine’s determination was making her nervous. She seemed to think she could conjure a serious photographer out of thin air with nothing but the power of her will. “Can I ask you something?”
Justine leaned against the deck railing and raised her eyebrows.
“I guess I don’t…I don’t really get how the gallery business works. The commission part of it. Are you…?”
“What?”
“What’s your… I mean, what’s in it for you?”
“I’m not getting a cut or anything. Don’t worry.” Justine pulled her hair into a ponytail and let it go. “I did really well in my divorce. I just teach to keep from going crazy. And sometimes I see someone who could use a little mentoring, a leg up.”
“Oh. Well, thank you.”
“And to tell you the truth…” Justine turned and looked over the railing to the street below. Then she turned back to Mary Ellen. “Some people in this town have been acting like I’ve been put out to pasture or something, and that’s bullshit. I hated teaching at Tyler. I was so glad to get out of there. Tyler was not the reason my students did well. I was the reason.”
“I’m sure—”
“Put me anywhere. Put me at UArts, put me at the fucking Art Institutes, I don’t care. I can still find opportunities. Women, minorities—” She extended a hand toward Mary Ellen. “People in different…age brackets. I can find the voices nobody is listening to. I can help them be heard. I don’t need to be part of the elite art school establishment to do that.”
Mary Ellen smiled uncertainly, absorbing this new information. Was she a minority? Was Justine insecure? “I can’t believe anyone would doubt you,” she said. “That’s—”
“I know. So listen.” Justine pushed herself away from the railing. “I have a place you could use. For a week or two, whatever you can manage.”
“Really?”
“It’s a pretty great mountain house. I got it in the divorce. It’s north of the Poconos, at the top of a ravine overlooking a creek. There’s no TV, no internet, no cell service. It’s just you and the woods. I think it would be the perfect place to hunker down and work on your ideas.”
Mary Ellen looked around. The thread of the beat was still weaving itself through her chest, stitching her to the other dancers, pulsing through them all like the tides, like the dawns, like the impatient swell and collapse of life itself. She didn’t want it to end, and Justine seemed to be telling her it didn’t have to. “Did you say there’s no cell service? Is there a land line?”
“No. Nothing. I’m telling you, a lot of people would kill for the chance to stay there. I usually don’t invite anyone.”
“Well, in that case!” said Mary Ellen with a laugh. She took a drink, wondering if this was all too good to be true. It probably was.
“So you’ll go?”
“I don’t know. Fine, yes. Why not!” Mary Ellen laughed again, feeling the urge to dance some more.
“Great. This is good.” Justine tapped her upper lip with her index finger. “Just make sure you stay in the same abstract, textural zone, okay? You’ll want to try to develop a visual vocabulary, which will be easier in a limited environment. In the meantime, I’ll work on finding a large-format printer. We need to print everything huge…the bigger the better.”
“Okay.” Mary Ellen started bobbing up and down again, but Justine beckoned her toward the iron staircase. Mary
