Heroic Measures by Jill Ciment

Author:Jill Ciment [Ciment, Jill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-37825-5
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2009-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

Under the table, Ruth settles her hand on Alex’s knee to still his feet, but she receives a jolt of his anxiety instead.

“Alex,” Rudolph says, starting right in on his salad. “You need to concentrate on the new work. May and I have a good feeling about this next show. These FBI pieces are timely. There’s interest. Why confuse the old with the new?”

“Maybe he’s right,” Alex says to Ruth.

“We’re selling our apartment tomorrow,” Ruth reminds him.

“The collectors want high concept these days. We finally have an angle with your FBI pieces, Alex. Everyone’s nostalgic for the Cold War. It reminds them of a time when the worst enemy imaginable was a gorgeous Russian spy in James Bond’s bed, or Rocky and Bullwinkle’s Boris and Natasha. Picture a Saturday-morning cartoon show about a squirrel and a moose and a cell of Jihadists?”

May drizzles an eyedropper of dressing on her salad. “Rudolph’s right. People used to spend hours in the gallery studying the paintings, asking questions. Nowadays, they sweep in talking on their cell phones, and if they don’t get the artist’s intention between calls, they lose interest.”

“This next show could put you back on the map,” Rudolph says.

What map? Alex wasn’t lost to begin with, Ruth thinks.

“It’ll open up so many more opportunities,” May adds.

“They’ll be fighting to get your old work,” Rudolph says.

Beneath the tablecloth, she can feel Alex’s feet finally come to a rest: unlike her, he seems ready to drop the subject of his old work despite their agreement that the paintings can’t move with them.

The waiter arrives with the dinners.

“We haven’t even finished our salads,” Rudolph says, annoyed. “Come back later.”

“The dinners will only get cold,” May says.

“Can you keep them warm in the kitchen?”

“They’ll get dried out,” May says. “Leave my chicken, please.”

“Leave my fish,” Alex says.

“Take mine back,” Rudolph says. “I like my salad first.”

“What are we supposed to do with all the paintings?” Ruth asks, turning to Alex. “Pack them up like the dishes? It’s like moving a museum! We can’t take care of them anymore, Alex. They need to find a home.”

“What Rudolph meant,” May says, motioning the waiter to leave, “is that we’ll gladly store them at our warehouse until we figure out what’s best.”

“That’s what I said,” Rudolph says. He finishes his salad and then samples May’s chicken. “It tastes like lemongrass and KFC.” He looks for the waiter.

“I told you not to send back your dinner,” May says.

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