Reboot Pt. 01

Sarah climbed out of the back seat, smoothed the wrinkles out of her navy sundress, and helped Meaghan from the passenger seat. Meaghan, who didn't much care for western maternity clothes, wore a green shalwar kameez outfit - long cotton tunic over loose cotton trousers - that looked like it could have come out of Sumita's closet.

Meaghan led the way to the gallery, with Sarah on her arm, and Sumita followed. It was a few minutes after seven, and the showing was scheduled to start at seven thirty. Meaghan wanted to get there a little early to make sure she had time to talk to her friends before the crowds showed up.

As soon as they walked through the door, Meaghan got a wave and a hug from a short, round-faced, dimple-cheeked woman in a black dress and a black bob. After that, there was a tall, skinny guy in red skinny jeans, a white shirt, and an awful lot of mousse; and then an older guy with close-cropped gray hair and beard, in blue jeans and a casual charcoal blazer. After the initial greetings, Meaghan introduced everyone. Sumita learned that the woman and the younger guy were two of the three featured artists, Delia and Andy, and the older gentleman was Marco, who owned the gallery.

The L-shaped gallery was just bare wood floors and white walls, with moveable partitions for hanging space. The partitions were arranged to break the big empty space up into secluded areas where the paintings could stand out, individually or in groups of three or four. A scattering of small round bar tables by the front door held glasses of wine and plates of cheese and fruit.

Sarah and Sumita wandered together and looked at the art while Meaghan chatted with Delia and Andy. Delia's paintings were all abstract cityscapes, angular and brutal. There was a touch of color here and there, some warm cream in a stone wall or a hint of blue in an expanse of black metal, but the palette was mostly gray, and the jagged, crystalline cities were completely devoid of life. No people, not even a bird or a tree. No living chaos to disrupt their rigid order. They left Sumita feeling sad and cold. Sarah stopped to admire one. Sumita moved on.

Andy's work was multi-media, integrating pages of magazines, advertising posters, old street signs, and other random junk. It looked to Sumita like the collages her daughter used to make in the third grade. Judging by the price tags - about double Delia's - there was a market for that sort of thing. Sumita shook her head - she could at least appreciate the artistry of Delia's paintings, even if she didn't like them. Andy's work she didn't get at all. She moved on again.

When Sumita turned the corner, she saw a tall, thin man from the back, obscuring the painting on the opposite wall. He wore boot-cut blue jeans over worn cowboy boots, a black leather belt, and a white oxford shirt, with his light brown hair short, in a military officer's cut.

There was something familiar about the figure, like Sumita had met him before, but she had no idea where. She walked over to stand next to him, and when she did, her breath caught at two separate shocks.

First, the painting. The colors and the mood were different, but Sumita recognized the artist the instant she saw it. It had to have been painted by the same hand that created that wonderfully sad painting in Sarah's office.

Second, the man, who wasn't a man at all. In profile, Sumita could see that she was a woman, beautiful and intense, even with the androgynous attire and haircut. Her strong, angular face was set in an annoyed frown, and her pale, icy blue eyes were fixed on the painting. Sumita wondered who she was, and why she found the painting so annoying.

"What do you think?" Sumita asked the woman. "Of the painting, I mean."

"I think the lighting's wrong," she replied impatiently, without turning to look at Sumita. "It's those new LEDs. Too much blue. Makes the colors look all flat and dull. Marco promised me full-spectrum lights."

The next moment, Marco bustled around the corner, holding a box of bulbs. "Sorry, sorry," he said. "Just let me go get the ladder."

He disappeared behind another corner, the track lights on the ceiling went out, and he returned with his ladder. A few minutes later, he had replaced half a dozen bulbs, with the woman helping steady the ladder and passing new bulbs up to him.

When the lights went back on, the woman visibly relaxed. "Thanks, Marco," she said. "That makes a huge difference."

"Anything for you, love," he replied. "It was on my list, but there's always so much to do..."

And then he was gone, finding the next thing on his checklist, and Sumita and the woman were standing side by side again, looking at the painting.

"Do you see how the colors come alive now?" she asked, this time actually looking at Sumita. The mask of annoyance had melted, and her expression was all warmth and enthusiasm. "This is what it's supposed to look like."

Sumita really did see. The style was the same as the one in Sarah's office, abstract figures made of simple, almost random shapes, but the effect was quite different. There were two figures in this one, facing each other, and the colors were warm reds and oranges and yellows. This was a lovers' quarrel, full of anger and passion. After almost a year of feeling little beyond loss and grief, the raw energy on the canvas hit Sumita like a slap in the face.

"You must be Jenna," Sumita said. "I'm Sumita. I work with Sarah and Meaghan."

"Oh, yeah," Jenna said. "Sarah told me about you, the new superstar dev. She's really excited to get to work with you. I think she was getting a little bored with the rest of her team."

"Um, okay," Sumita said. "I just hope I don't disappoint . . ."

She turned back to the painting as her voice trailed off. Jenna turned back toward the painting as well, standing closer to Sumita than was really necessary. The two stood together in silence a while, looking at the painting through two very different pairs of eyes. Sumita found it unsettling standing next to this strange, intense artist while looking at her work hanging on the wall.

"So what do you think?" Jenna asked Sumita. "Of the painting, I mean?"

Sumita felt a nervous flutter in her stomach, and she frantically tried to think of something intelligent to say. Jenna's closeness became much more unsettling. Just when she was about to stammer something incoherent, Sumita saw Sarah and Meaghan walking around the corner, and her mouth opened of its own accord.

"I don't know what they're fighting about," she said to Jenna, "but the make-up sex is going to be amazing."

Jenna stood dumbfounded for a moment, and then Sarah and Meaghan were upon her, full of hugs and good wishes for the showing. Sumita slipped quietly behind Meaghan and politely added her own words of encouragement after Meaghan's and Sarah's.

Customers had started to wander in by then, so Jenna was kept busy talking about her work the whole evening. When two of Jenna's paintings sold in the first twenty minutes, Sumita sought out Marco and put her claim on the lovers' quarrel. Argument, it was called, and it was the biggest, boldest, and most expensive of Jenna's pieces in the gallery. Eight hundred dollars, plus another two hundred for framing and delivery. Sumita handed over her credit card without a second thought. She hadn't intended to buy anything, but the instant she saw that painting, she knew she wanted it. She needed that kind of passion in her life again, even if it was only a piece of canvas on her bedroom wall.

The crowd thinned out and then vanished after a couple of hours, and Sumita found herself standing behind one of those little bar tables, the wine glasses all empty and only a few sad little grapes remaining on the fruit and cheese plate. Meaghan was sitting on a bar stool that Marco had fetched from the back, with Sarah standing right next to her, massaging her back. Jenna finished up her chat with Marco and then walked over to join them.

"Hey, sweetie," Meaghan said to Jenna. "Looks like a good crowd tonight. I'm kind of annoyed nobody else turned up to support you, though. Not even Kate."

"It's fine. You two showed up, and that's what's important," Jenna replied. "Excuse me, you three," she said, nodding gravely to Sumita. Sumita returned the gesture.

"Anyway, I sold all seven, including Argument," Jenna said, looking quite pleased with herself. "I thought Marco was crazy when he priced it at eight hundred, but somebody bought it."

"Oh, sweetie, that's great!" Meaghan said, and then Sarah joined in with her own congratulations. The conversation flowed out naturally from there. Sumita didn't say much, and she did not mention that she was the one who bought Argument. The lights went off in the back of the gallery while they were chatting, and then Delia and Andy both walked out the front door, waving to Jenna as they left.

"So, Molly Moon's?" Jenna asked. That was the traditional after-showing spot for Meaghan and Jenna's mostly absent artist friends.

"I'd really love to," Meaghan replied, "but ice cream doesn't agree with baby this month, and I'm pretty much falling asleep here anyway. We should get home. Sorry, sweetie."

"It's fine," Jenna said. "I totally understand. You need to take care of little Sprout. I'm just happy you made it to the showing."

Sarah helped Meaghan down from the bar stool.

"What about you?" Jenna asked, turning toward Sumita. Her voice was warm, friendly, and casual, but there was a hint of mischief in her eyes. "I really don't want to go for ice cream all by myself."

"I, um, I'm not sure," Sumita replied, flustered. "I drove Sarah and Meaghan here, so I should take them home."

"We're fine," Sarah said. "We can walk."

"Are you sure?" Sumita asked. "Meaghan looks pretty wiped out."

"It's not too far, and it's all downhill," Meaghan replied. "Walking will be good for me. Work some of the kinks out of my back and help me sleep."

"Oh, okay then," Sumita said to Meaghan. "If you're sure."

There was no reason for her to go out for ice cream with Jenna. She'd only just met this strange woman with the ice blue eyes. She didn't know anything about her, beyond the few paintings she'd seen. Sumita made up her mind to politely excuse herself and go home. She turned her head back to Jenna, and their eyes met.

"Yes," she said. "I'd love to go for ice cream."

"Great," Jenna said with a big, beaming smile, and slung her bag over her shoulder. The four of them walked out onto Summit Avenue, and Marco shut off the rest of the track lighting and locked the door behind them. When they got to Pine Street, they exchanged hugs, and Sarah and Meaghan turned right, toward home. Jenna and Sumita watched them walking down the hill while they waited for the light to change so they could cross the street. Halfway down the block, Sarah leaned up and planted a big, wet kiss on Meaghan's cheek.

"Looks like those two are in a good mood tonight," Jenna said with a sly grin. Sumita blushed at the public display of affection. In all the years she was married to Rajeev, she never kissed him like that in public.

When the light turned, Sumita and Jenna crossed the street, turned left, and walked up the hill, stopping under the sign of a dog licking an ice cream cone. The line snaked out the door.

"You should see it on the weekend," Jenna said, smiling at Sumita. "It can go all the way around the corner if it's not raining."

Sumita smiled back, and she felt a strange sensation in her chest, excited and happy and panicky all at the same time. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be a teenager going on a first date. She'd dated boys in high school and college, but that was never anything more than awkward. Boys had never really done much for her. Not that this was in any way a date.

She hadn't even felt like this at her first dinner with her husband, with the most important decision of her life in the balance. When they met, they were complete strangers, carefully selected by their families as a good match. By the time dinner was over, they were engaged. Sumita went into that dinner with some nerves, like a job interview, and she went home with a sense of accomplishment and maybe some mild, diffuse happiness, but that was all.

Whatever Jenna felt about Sumita, she didn't show it. She was still glowing with her success at the gallery.

They passed the time waiting in line people-watching, trying to guess whether the pairs around them were dating or just friends. On Cap Hill, the gayest neighborhood in Seattle, the game gets that much more interesting. Most of the male/female pairs were easy guesses one way or the other, but the same-sex pairs were harder, especially the women.

"Okay, they're probably together," Jenna said, pointing to two older men. They were standing right next to each other, much too close to be just friends, and they were wearing matching, color-coordinated outfits.

"I think you're right," Sumita said, leaning closer to Jenna. "They look like an old married couple. What about those two?" She pointed to two women walking up the sidewalk outside the shop, one with long black hair in a ponytail, the other a brown buzz cut.

"I don't know," Jenna replied. "I really can't tell, so I'll go with probably just friends."

"Seriously?" Sumita asked. "They were holding hands."

"Were they? I didn't see," Jenna replied. "My gaydar is absolutely horrible. It's kind of embarrassing. A girl pretty much has to walk up and plant a kiss on me before I know she's interested."

Sumita felt warmth rush into her cheeks, and she hoped Jenna wouldn't notice, but she didn't avert her gaze from Jenna's intense blue eyes. "I'll keep that in mind," she said.

They found themselves at the front of the line, and a pink-haired girl asked what they wanted.

"Single scoop of honey lavender in a waffle cone," Jenna said. Sumita realized that she hadn't even looked up at the menu board to see what flavors they had, and then she realized it didn't matter.

"Same thing for me," Sumita said. "That sounds delicious."

Jenna paid for both of them and they walked outside and across the street to Cal Anderson Park. Sumita took her first bite of ice cream right as they stepped into the park. It was shockingly floral, like a gust of wind on a calm spring day, but the flavor soon mellowed into a delicate sweetness. It was the best ice cream she'd had in years.

They spent the next half hour strolling around the park eating their ice cream, dodging the crowds of young people with way too much energy, avoiding the drug users and dealers, and chatting about nothing in particular. Sumita wasn't feeling very interesting, so she let Jenna do most of the talking. Jenna was only too happy to explain all the little details of her painting technique, and Sumita was surprised at how much she enjoyed hearing about it. After listening to Jenna for a while, she knew more about canvasses and brushes and paints than she ever expected to learn, and she had fantasies in her head about dragging Jenna through the Tate Gallery in London as her own personal tour guide. What she still didn't know, though, was how Jenna managed to draw so much feeling out of her with the simple, abstract shapes in her paintings. She was pleased that it remained a mystery.

Eventually, Sumita's ice cream was gone and Jenna's was down to the last inch-long stub of her waffle cone. Jenna took one more bite and the thing split in half, dripping ice cream all over her hands. Sumita reached into her purse, grabbed a couple of the napkins she stuffed into it at the shop, and wiped Jenna's hands clean.

"Thanks," Jenna said, a little embarrassed at making a mess of herself.

"No problem," Sumita said, smiling warmly at Jenna. She held onto Jenna's hands a moment longer, intensely conscious of the warmth of Jenna's skin and the blue of her eyes, and then let go.

"It's, um, getting late," she said. "Work tomorrow. I should get home."

"Yeah," Jenna said. "Me too."

They walked down the hill back to the gallery together in comfortable silence, neither wanting to say anything awkward and break the spell. Jenna's car was closer, a block from Sumita's. "Thanks for coming with me for ice cream," Jenna said. "A showing's not the same if I don't have anyone to go for ice cream with afterwards."

"Thanks for inviting me," Sumita replied. "I had a great time."

Jenna got into her old green Toyota compact, started it up, and drove off, waving at Sumita through the open window. Sumita waved back and waited until Jenna turned the corner before walking back to her own car.

In bed that night, Sumita wondered to herself what had really happened that evening, if anything had happened at all. She slept soundly, without remembering her dreams, for the first time in a very long time.

~~~

Sarah walked into Sumita's office after lunch the next day and closed the door. Sumita stopped what she was doing and turned her chair to give Sarah her full attention. Sarah almost never closed the door, so whatever it was must be important.

"I'm glad you came last night," she said. "I hope you had fun."

"Yes," Sumita said. "I had a good time. Your friend Jenna is very sweet."

"She asked about you, you know," Sarah said. "I told her you were married for twenty something years and that you only recently lost your husband. Just to make sure she doesn't get the wrong idea. I hope that's okay."

"Oh," Sumita replied. "Ah, yeah. That's probably best."

Sarah gave Sumita a long, searching look, and then made a firm little nod, like the period at the end of a sentence. "I can send you her email address, if you want," she said. "To talk about her art, or whatever. She said you were interested."

"Um, sure," Sumita said.

Sarah leaned forward in her chair and fidgeted with the end of her braid. Sumita could tell she was nervous about whatever else she had come to talk about.

"So," Sarah finally said. "Monday is when Dave comes back to work."

"Yeah, that's what Bhavesh tells me," Sumita replied, relieved to be talking about something else.

"I probably shouldn't say anything," Sarah said, "but I do feel like I can trust you, and you deserve to know. Just please don't say anything to anybody else, okay?"

"Okay," Sumita replied, wondering what exactly Sarah was going to tell her. "I won't say anything."

"Dave is kind of a tool," Sarah said. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me, and I know for certain I don't like him. I don't know if it's because I'm Asian, or because I'm female, or because I'm gay, or just because I'm way smarter than he is, but I always get this hostile vibe from him, like he'd rather not have to deal with me. You have at least three of those things going for you, so you may have trouble with him too."

"That's just great," Sumita said angrily. "Do you know why I left this place the first time? I got stuck with a lead who was a complete ass, and he made coming to work so unpleasant I didn't want to do it anymore. And now it looks like that's going to happen all over again."

"It won't be so bad," Sarah replied. "As obnoxious as Dave is, he's always at least professional, and anyway you probably won't see him that much. He spends most of his time in meetings - that's why Bhavesh keeps him on the team. Most weeks, the only real contact I have with him is our weekly one-on-one. It's never pleasant, but it only lasts half an hour, tops. I just wanted to warn you what you were getting into, so you can be prepared for it."

"Thanks," Sumita said. "It's better to know, I guess."

"Feel free to come by my office and bitch to me whenever you want," Sarah said with a wicked smile. She knew Sumita would be taking up her offer soon enough.

Sumita quietly fumed to herself for a while after Sarah left, annoyed with Bhavesh for sticking her with a difficult lead, knowing full well about her previous experience. There was nothing she could do about it, so her annoyance slowly ebbed away, until her brain got stuck on something Sarah said.