Twenty minutes later, Emma was standing in the middle of her room, wrapped in a faded blue towel, watching Laura rummage through her closet.
“You’re wasting your time,” she told her. “I’m not going out.”
Laura ignored Emma and came out holding a blue Chinese styled dress.
“This is the one!” she cried, holding it up in front of an irate Emma. “Now put it on! I have to go get ready, too.”
Laura left Emma’s room. She sat on her bed clutching the dress in her hands. The memory of the first time she wore it came flooding back. It was while she and Cyn were in Hamburg. Astrid had made them all these dresses each in a different color. Hers was blue, Cyn’s was purple, and Astrid made herself a red one. They had all got dressed up one night and put on a little show for the guys, singing and doing little skits. It had been so fun. She hadn’t seen the dress since she last wore it.
Emma sighed. This was not going to be a good night.
Laura was knocking at her door twenty minutes later.
“You look amazing! Perfect for where we are going!”
“Where are we going?” Emma questioned, grabbing her jacket.
“Just to a little party with a few friends of mine. You’ll really like them.”
Emma found it hard to believe that she would actually have a good time, but she put on a fake smile and said, “I’m sure I will.” And they left for the party.
Emma spent the next months trying to convince everyone she was fine. She went back to class and began painting again. She returned to her job and went out with friends whenever she could. But Emma wasn’t fine at all.
She still grieved the loss of Stuart in private, still grieved the loss of her friendship with the others. She hadn’t talked to any of them since George called that April day.
It was as if she wasn’t really living her life, like she was looking in on it from the outside. She constantly lived behind a mask. Whatever it took to get everyone off her back, she would do it.
Nineteen sixty-three came. Emma had graduated with honors from NYU.
“Emma!” Laura cried coming home one day after work in April.
“I’m up here!” Emma called from her studio.
Laura raced up the stairs and found Emma working on a painting. “Put down that brush! I have some amazing news!!!!”
Emma, set down her brush, laughing, then looked at Laura. “What is it?”
“You know my friend, Sam Elkhorn?”
Emma nodded her head in recognition.
“Well,” Laura continued, “he just opened up a gallery and he wants you to be his first exhibit!”
Emma’s eyes widened. “What?”
“He wants to put your paintings in his gallery grand opening!” Laura squealed.
“Laura! How does he know what my paintings look like?”
Laura looked at her sheepishly. “I brought him up here one day while you were at work. He thought they were amazing!”
“Laura!” Emma cried again. “I can’t do that!”
Laura threw her hands up in the air. “Don’t you dare go into your ‘I’m not good enough’ speech! You are good enough! And this would be an amazing opportunity!”
“When exactly is this grand opening?” Emma asked, picking back up her paint brush.
“The 12th,” Laura said. “Your 21st birthday. Perfect way to celebrate!”
And the one year anniversary of Stuart’s death, she thought. “I’m not sure…”
“Emmie!” Laura pleaded. “You have to do this!”
Emma looked at the painting she had been working on. It was of a person, but you couldn’t quite make out the face. It frightened her a bit. She had never showed any of her work in an exhibit before. Stuart and John had always told her she should, but she would just laugh at their silly comments. She wasn’t good enough. There was no way anyone would come to see a whole show of just her paintings.
Laura came and stood beside Emma, looking at the painting, too.
“Talent like this should not be kept locked up in a room like this, Emmie.”
“Fine,” Emma told her. “Call Sam and tell him I’m in.”
Laura threw her arms around Emma in a hug. “You wont regret this!” she cried.
On the evening of April 10, Emma’s twenty-first birthday and the one year anniversary of Stuart’s death, Emma was frantically running around her apartment. Laura, Sam and she had just spent the day getting the gallery ready for the opening. Now Emma and Laura were back at their apartment, getting ready.
“Is this okay?” Emma asked frantically, standing before Laura, in her bedroom, in a plain, a line black dress.
“You look great, Emmie, but it’s missing something.” Laura reached into a drawer and pulled out a violet scarf. She got off her bed and went over to Emma, tying the scarf in Emma’s long hair. “There, that’s better. It really brings out your eyes.”
“I’m so bloody nervous!!” Emma cried. She looked desperately at Laura. “Do you think anyone will come?”
Laura laughed, pulling a cardigan over her red cocktail dress. “Of course people will come! And they are going to love you.”
“I sure hope so,” Emma muttered, following Laura out of the bedroom.
They took a taxi to the Elkhorn Gallery, and Emma was shocked when she saw a line of people waiting to get in.
“And you thought no one would come!” Laura teased as they got out of the cab.
The grand opening was a huge success, as were Emma’s paintings. Everyone raved at how life-like they were. From the minute she set her foot in the door, someone was always at her side.
Finally, about an hour into the show, Emma managed to steal some time to herself.
“Can you believe this?” Laura cried, walking up to Emma with two glasses of champagne in her hands.
Emma took one of the glasses and took a sip. “It’s pretty unbelievable,” she agreed. “In fact, it’s fucking crazy!”
Laura laughed. “You’re gonna be big, Emmie girl.”
Emma downed the remaining champagne in her glass. “I’ll believe that when I see it!”
Just then, someone pointed out a pigeon that had flown into the building. It landed on one of the rafters in the ceiling and looked down on the crowed, cooing.
“Look Emma,” Laura laughed, glancing at her friend.
Emma was staring at the bird; her face pale, her eyes moist. Laura looked back up at the bird and almost fainted.
“It’s him,” Emma whispered, grabbing Laura’s arm for support.
The two friends watched as the pigeon with the red head swooped overhead and then escaped through an open window.
Later that night Emma was awoken by a tapping she heard up in her studio. She pulled back her covers and slipped her feet down on to the cool hardwood floor. Climbing the stairs, the tapping grew louder, her heart beat faster. She pushed open the door and peaked her head in. She didn’t see anything at first. The room was dark, the moon casting eerie shadows on the ground. Emma cautiously walked forward.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d ever get up here.”
Emma almost jumped out of her skin. A man was standing in the shadows. Dressed in leather and wearing a familiar pair of sunglasses and a black scarf carelessly around his neck, he walked forward.
“Don’t scream!”
Tears immediately sprang to her eyes. “I’m dreaming,” she tried to convince herself. “This is not happening.” She looked at the man standing in front of her. “Stuart?”
He smiled. “In the not-so flesh.”
“Oh my god!” Emma whispered. “Oh my god!”
Stuart started walking closer until he was standing inches from Emma.
She reached out a shaky hand and touched his face, her hand quickly pulling back. His skin was warm.
The tears were streaming down her face and Stuart reached over, brushing them away. “Don’t cry, Emmie.”
“Oh Stuart!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck.
“It’s been a while, Emma.”
She let go of him and looked in his eyes. “Bloody hell! I must be crazy!”
Stuart poked her in the ribs. “You always were.”
“The company I kept didn’t help much!”
They laughed for a minute and then Emma got quiet. She walked over to her couch and sat down. Stuart followed her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, patting her leg.
She fiddled with a loose string on her nightgown. “If this is a dream, you’ll be gone when I wake up. Why did you take so long to come, Stuart?”
Stuart pulled Emma to him, wrapping his arms around her shoulder. “Because it’s taken you a year to finally realize that I’m gone and I won’t be coming back.”
“You’re here now.”
“It was time. We made a promise to each other, remember?”
“I remember.”
“I never back out on a promise.”
“Have you seen John yet?”
“Yes, have you?”
Emma shook her head. “I haven’t seen anyone since I left a year ago. We used to write, but soon the letters stopped coming all together.”
“Oh, Emmie.”
“I’ve come to terms with the fact that that is no longer my life and I can never be part of it again.”
“That’s not true!” Stuart tried to tell her.
“Yes it is. I’ve told my mother never to mention anything to me about them. It just hurts too much.”
“They haven’t forgotten about you, Emmie.”
Emma sat up and looked at Stuart. She still couldn’t believe he was here. “How do you know?”
Stuart smiled. “I get around. Just trust me. They still very much remember you.”
“Oh, Stuart! I miss the past so much! Everything was so much easier. I had friends, love, happiness. . .”
“You don’t have that now?”
“Well, I have friends and I love them and they love me, but happiness, I’m not sure I have that anymore.”
Stuart stood up and walked over to a window, clasping his hands behind his back. “You have to want happiness to get it,” he told her, turning his head so he was looking at Emma. “And I don’t think you want to be happy.”
Emma’s shoulders began to shake. “What’s wrong with me Stuart?” she whispered. “I don’t want to be happy.”
Stuart stretched out his hand reaching towards Emma. “Come here.”
She climbed off the couch and padded over to Stuart, taking his hand, letting him pull her in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her, and leaned his chin on the top of her head. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Stay here with me forever.”
“You know I can’t do that,” he whispered.
“I know,” she sighed.
They were quiet for a moment, staring out at the New York City night.
“Remember the day we met?” Emma asked.
“Like it was yesterday,” he replied.
She started to laugh a bit. “I had such a crush on you after that day!”
“What?!”
Emma pulled herself out of his arms and turned around so she was looking in his blue-green eyes. “I thought you were so cute, so mysterious. I would have done anything you asked me!”
Stuart smiled. “Since we are confessing, I had a little bit of a crush on you too.”
“Are you serious?” Emma cried.
Stuart nodded. “I was too shy to do anything about it, and then you got together with Paul, so I let it go.”
“I can’t believe we both liked one another!” Emma laughed.
“Some things just aren’t meant to be,” Stuart explained, putting on hand on Emma’s waist, the other clasping with one of her hands. He began dancing her around the room.
“I love your paintings, Emmie. Your show was amazing.”
Emma leaned her head on his shoulder. “They all loved the Hamburg series.”
“They are amazing.”
“It’s not fair, Stuart,” she whispered. “It should be you having a show, not me.”
He danced her over to a painting. “I want you to look really hard at this. This is brilliant. It is amazing. Must be shown! You deserve all this Emmie. You deserve this.”
The sun started peaking through the buildings.
“I have to go, Emmie . . .”
“No!” Emma cried, clutching the front of his shirt.
He gently pulled her away. “I have to.”
The tears were once again streaming down her face. “Please . . .”
Stuart leaned forward and gently brushed his lips with Emma’s. “I’m always here, Emmie. You may not be able to see me, but I’m here.” He pulled the black scarf that was hanging around his neck over his head and put it around Emma’s. “Goodbye Emmie.”
“Goodbye, Stuart,” she whispered.
Stuart stepped back into the shadows and vanished.
Emma sank to the ground in sobs, clutching the scarf in her hands.
Emma was awoken a few hours later by the hot sun rays shining down on her face. She opened her eyes and slowly pulled herself up, looking around confused. It took her a minute to realize that she had fallen asleep on the hard wood floor of her studio. And then she remembered why she was in her studio.
“It was all just a dream,” she whispered as she stood up, and that’s when she felt the scarf touch her arm. She grabbed it and pulled it from around her neck. It wasn’t a dream! Stuart had been there last night. He had held her, kissed her . . . and he was gone again.
She brought the scarf up to her nose and inhaled his scent. Turpentine, soap and cigarettes. A scent she had grown to love and miss.
“Emma? Are you up there?” Laura cried from the bottom of the stairs.
Emma brushed away the tears. “Yeah! I’ll be down in a minute.”
Taking a deep breath she looked around the room searching for some sign of Stuart, but there was nothing.
“Thank you, Stuart.” she whispered to the air and turned and walked down the stairs.
