Scot on the Rocks

had never once made it to one of Millie’s art openings.

“No,” I said, trying to smile and act normal. “He’s not.”

“These young men!” she said, facing the group. “They all work way too hard, if you ask me! Brooke, sweetheart, what is he working on that he couldn’t be here?”

“He’s not working,” I said. I smiled my fake smile and everyone else smiled their fake smiles back at me, like deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, okay,” Millie said, breaking the silence with a nervous smile creeping onto her lips.

No one moved. Christian and his father were smiling so hard I thought that one of them might actually hurt themselves, and Millie and Vanessa were staring hard at each other, seemingly trying to communicate to the other through their clenched teeth. Jack looked as if he was about to say something to me.

“Douglas broke up with me,” I said. Okay, granted, maybe it wasn’t the sort of thing you just blurt out in polite company, but everyone knows that when confronted with a deer caught in your headlights, you are supposed to speed up and hit the deer really fast. It’s a fact.

“Oh, Brooke,” Millie said as she inched toward me for a hug.

“It’s okay,” I said, tearing up slightly as Sidney tried to put a diplomatic arm around me. “I’m okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Sidney said, and as soon as the words left his diplomatic mouth, the waterworks began. Full force. Running down my face uncontrollably. Hoover Dam breaking style. I couldn’t hold back. The tears just came and came and came and there was nothing anyone could do to stop them. I began simultaneously gasping for breath and wiping my running nose with my already used cocktail napkin. I tried wiping the tears away with the back of my hand to no avail — the tears just kept on coming and they wouldn’t stop. Sidney offered me his handkerchief and I blew my nose into it. I thanked him and tried to blow my nose delicately and all ladylike, but it instead came out sounding more like a foghorn.

“I’m fine. I’m totally fine. I mean, all men cheat, don’t they? So, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“He cheated on you?” Christian asked, clearly incredulous that a man had cheated on a goddess like myself. He handed me his own handkerchief and I blew my nose into it. Loud.

“Yes, he cheated. But, who doesn’t, right? Didn’t Halle Berry’s husband cheat on her?” I asked the group. Sidney nodded his head yes sympathetically as only a diplomat could. “And, she’s the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. You can’t compete with Halle Berry. And didn’t Marc Anthony leave his wife for J. Lo? That guy was married to Miss Universe! You can’t get better than Miss Universe! And look at me! I’m just a mere mortal!”

“But she’s J. Lo,” Vanessa said.

“I know,” I agreed. “But this is just a minor setback in our relationship. You see, it’s no big deal. Because I’m okay and it’s okay. I’m going to get Douglas back. Yes, sir-ee-Bob. I’ll get him back. You don’t have to worry about me. Not one bit. We are going to get back together. Possibly not until after my ex-boyfriend’s wedding, but what does that matter? Right?”

“You’re going to your ex-boyfriend’s wedding?” Christian asked. I blew my nose into his handkerchief again as I nodded my head yes.

“Yes,” I said, louder and more forcefully, as if I were about to announce something like, “With God as my witness, I’ll never go hungry again,” or “Tomorrow is another day,” or something of similar import. “I am going to my ex-boyfriend’s wedding. And then I’m going to get Douglas back.”

“Of course you are,” Millie said.

I tried to give Sidney and Christian their handkerchiefs back, only to have Vanessa intercept my reach, saying, “Why don’t we have these cleaned before we return them to you?”

“I’m so sorry I made a scene,” I said, turning to Millie.

“Not a problem, everyone here will think that it was performance art,” she replied with a wink as she walked to the middle of the room to introduce the artist.

“So, this is some exhibit,” Christian said and everyone quickly nodded their heads and brought their drinks to their mouths for a sip. “Jack, we’ve all been talking about what we think this exhibit means. What do you think the exhibit’s all about?”

“Oh, yes. The exhibit,” he said, looking around quickly at all of the paintings. “It just looks like kids growing up in Texas to me.”

Christian and I laughed at Jack’s pedestrian interpretation as Millie introduced the artist — a twenty- something woman with her hair tied into a loose ponytail and ripped jeans. She had long bangs that fell into her eyes and a piercing just below her lower lip.

“When I began creating this collection,” she said, “I was looking to make a statement.”

“Good thing you didn’t embarrass me,” Vanessa said through clenched teeth as the artist spoke. I wanted to apologize to her for making a huge scene at her mother’s art-exhibit opening, but all I could think about was: Please say peace in the Middle East. Please say peace in the Middle East.

“It’s really just all about my upbringing in Texas back in the eighties,” the artist said. “The pure unadulterated childhood I had before computers ruled the world and everyone had a cell phone.”

“Did you ever study art history?” Christian asked Jack.

“Afraid not,” Jack replied.

“Then how did you know what the artist was trying to say?”

“Some things are just up-front and uncomplicated,” Jack replied as Christian nodded his head.

“And, of course,” the artist said, concluding her speech, “it’s a statement about peace in the Middle East.”

I smiled to myself and grabbed a tiny piece of caviar on a potato pancake to reward myself for being so damn smart.

“You’re getting back together with him?” Jack asked me in a whisper.

“Of course I am,” I said, dabbing my cocktail napkin at the sides of my mouth.

“But I thought that I was coming with you to Trip’s wedding?” he said, brushing his shaggy brown hair from his eyes. His eyes seemed bluer than usual.

“You are,” I said, and he looked back with a puzzled look.

“So, I thought that meant that you changed your mind,” he said.

“About what?” I asked, tearing the cocktail napkin in my hand into two pieces.

“About getting back together with Douglas. I thought, I mean — the costume shop — wasn’t something going on there? You know, between us? Why are you still talking about getting back together with him?”

“You’re coming with me to the wedding, Jack, but it’s not like I’m ready to throw away two years of my life just like that.”

“He did,” he said.

“I know that, Jack,” I replied, pulling him closer to me so that the people around us wouldn’t hear. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Does he want to get back together with you?” he asked.

“He does,” I said. Jack looked back at me, expecting me to say more. “He does. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“He doesn’t know it yet?” Jack asked.

“So, are you two enjoying the show?” Millie asked, swooping in from behind us, glass of champagne in her hands.

“It’s really amazing,” Jack said.

“Peace in the Middle East,” I said.

“That’s what I love about art,” Millie said, her eyes melting into the painting we were standing in front of. “Just when you think it’s one thing, it merges into something else. Something familiar can become something entirely different right before your eyes.”

“My first impressions are usually dead on,” I told Millie. I mean, come on — peace in the Middle East, people! “And I find that I usually don’t change them.”

“Well, sweetheart,” Millie said, slowly sipping her drink, “then you probably miss a whole lot.”