The Green Lace Corset, стр. 27
Why was Cliff being so kind—feeding her, keeping her alive? Maybe he wanted her healthy so he could have that one thing Ma said men wanted. Cliff might be not really asleep in the barn but waiting outside to pounce on her at any moment. Every creak made her heart race.
How would she find the courage to go on, a captive in a strange land with a strange man who could at any moment enter the cabin and ravish her? It truly would have been better if he had just let her die.
Sally Sue had no choice but to accept the situation and resigned herself to abide by Cliff. She’d wait until spring before she tried to escape again. Even then, he’d probably track her down. She’d have to look over her shoulder wherever she went.
19
Anne slid the last photograph into her portfolio sleeve with a smile. It had taken six weeks for the museum to schedule the interviews, and finally tomorrow was the day. She considered taking a small original piece or two with her as well but thought it might be overkill.
She had continued to teach at the museum. The board member’s horseshoes had been delivered the other day, and Anne planned to teach the mosaic lesson to her students next week. At home, the sky painting was really coming along, she let go of perfectionism, and remembered not to be a slave to the photo.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Sergio. It was a cute emoji of a guy who looked just like him, pointing and saying, You got this!
She sent Sergio back a thanks and a smiley-face emoji. He called often, but she still tried to keep her distance.
The morning after their Top of the Mark night, he had kissed her goodbye and said, “Amore mio, grazie for una notte meravigliosa.”
She’d kissed him back. “Remember, this doesn’t mean we’re back together.”
He’d whispered in her ear, “I know. I’ll keep in touch anyway.”
She yawned. She’d been so tired lately. She searched through her closet. Should she dress like an artist? She tried on her blue dress, sighed, and texted Fay.
Anne: I’m nervous about the interview tomorrow.
Fay: Don’t worry, you’ll wow the nickers off them.
Anne: What should I wear?
Fay: New blue dress is smashing.
Anne: It’s a little snug today. Why had she been feeling so bloated lately? She had been going to yoga and drinking a lot of smoothies. Maybe it was her time of the month. She thought back; she was a little late.
Fay: Put on some Spanx.
Anne: Lol. You know I’m not that kind of girl. Thanks again for that glowing reference.
Fay: It’s all true.
Anne: I don’t feel qualified.
Fay: Rubbish!
Anne: What do you think they’ll ask me?
Fay: Fredricka’s on the panel. Want me to check with her?
Anne: No! That would feel like cheating?
Fay: Not really. Maybe write out sample questions and practice answers.
Anne: Great idea.
Fredricka, Fay’s boss and the Gallery Noir owner, collected Anne’s work and was always supportive to her. It was wonderful that she was sitting on the panel.
Fay: Keep your answers short and to the point. Don’t ramble.
Anne: Do I ramble?
Fay: Sometimes when you’re gobsmacked about a project, you get carried away. Keep in mind not all committee members are artists, so don’t overwhelm them with lingo. Want me to come over and practice with you? I could leave work early.
Anne: No, that’s okay.
Fay: I know you’ll wow them.
Anne really hoped so.
She dialed her mom. “Hi. I’ve got the museum residency interview tomorrow; what do you think I should wear?”
“You can’t go wrong with a power outfit: white blouse under a navy jacket.”
“Are pants okay?”
“Wear something comfortable, but not sweats.” Her mom laughed. “Fitted slacks are fine. And accessorize with a colorful scarf. I don’t want to be critical, dear, but please leave your backpack at home.”
“Why?”
“It’s not professional. It doesn’t say, ‘I can do this.’”
Anne returned to her closet and saw the corset outfit. She should just wear that. It would wow them for sure. Dry-cleaning it had cost a pretty penny, but if she’d washed it by hand, it might have lost some of its shape. Even after she’d brought it home and tried it on, the memory of her gross mistake with Barn lingered, so she’d lit some white sage and cleansed the green silk.
She considered her black velvet coat for luck, but that would be too much. Instead, she pulled out an old navy-blue jacket. She tried on three blouses and chose the white one that fit best, even though it had underarm stains. Thrift-shop, elastic-waist polyester pants and wingtips from her valet-parking days would do. She chose a flamingo-pink vintage scarf and an old lady–style leather purse her mother had sent for Anne’s birthday. She laid the ensemble over the kitchenette so it would be ready for the morning.
Anne curled on the daybed with her journal to brainstorm questions and answers:
Tell us about your artistic path.
1. BA in studio art
2. Sold canvases at farmers’ markets
3. Group show at Gallery Noir
4. Solo show at Gallery Noir
5. Teaching position at SFMOMA
Why are you the best candidate for this residency?
1. Love SFMOMA
2. Have teaching experience
3. Am creative
4. Can interact well with people
She was so much more qualified than Karl. He probably hadn’t even passed the paper screening. She’d seen him around. He had been volunteering in the museum gift shop. He used to come in and bug her in the classroom until she told him to leave her alone or she’d tell Priscilla. Anne hadn’t seen him for a while.
She’d do another sample question. She closed her eyes, breathed in and out. Pen in hand, she wrote:
What is your artist statement?
I’m an intuitive artist who is inspired to work from my heart and not my mind. As I create I breathe, get into the zone, and lose myself in the process. My collages are inspired by nature, architecture, and cityscapes. I use found objects to make my mosaics.