Self-Portrait with Boy by Rachel Lyon

Author:Rachel Lyon [Lyon, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

After calling Cherrystone Clay enough times I began to get a sense of their schedule. The gallery opened at ten. Jessie took a lunch break around one thirty. If I called between one forty-five and two fifteen the chance of Fiona answering the phone was a little higher.

I started being more strategic about my approach. If I was working at Summerland I would take my own fifteen-minute break when I guessed Jessie would be out getting her salad, and run over to the subway entrance at Borough Hall, where there was a pay phone. If I was at the 24-Hour Photo I’d try the pay phone by the bus stop on Fulton Street. If I was at KCA the journey was shorter: there were two pay phones on the wall by the art room across from the elevator.

Sometimes they were occupied and I’d have to go back to work without talking to anyone. More often I’d get through, but not to Fiona Clay. I had hung up on Jessie, an art handler, an intern, a junior staffer I didn’t know, and Chuck Cherrystone himself before at last I recognized that quiet, commanding voice. I was in Fulton Mall. A preacher was yelling. He was an African guy, a Jew for Jesus, tall and thin in a gray-and-white pinstriped suit and a down jacket left open to the chill. He was standing on a milk crate around which he’d arranged a display of pamphlets. A small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk: a couple of bored shopkeepers, skeptical women with baby carriages, and an outspoken grandmother who seemed to have taken it upon herself to argue with his premises.

I had called and hung up so many times, and was so distracted by the preacher, that I almost hung up on Fiona Clay when she said hello.

Fiona! I blurted. I’ve been trying to reach you.

Who is this?

Lu! Sorry, it’s Lu. Lu Rile.

Lu Rile.

You came to my studio for a visit back in September.

I remember.

You saw my Self-Portrait #400 and told me I should print it large.

Yes, well—

I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. I wanted to let you know that I printed it large and it’s magnificent.

Jessie delivered the message—

It’s better than magnificent, Fiona. I don’t know if Jessie told you this. I told her to tell you but I don’t know if she— Listen, I don’t overuse this word: It’s a masterpiece. It’s my only masterpiece, but it’s a masterpiece.

Across the street the Jew for Jesus was getting heated up. One! Sovereign! God! he yelled, thumping a copy of the Old Testament. Existing in three persons! Father! Son! and Holy Spirit! Perfect in holiness! Infinite in wisdom! Unbounded in power! Measureless in love!

Are you . . . in a church?

I’m on the street. I’m in Fulton Mall. I am—on my lunch break. There’s a guy out here. It doesn’t matter.

Lu, I’m sorry, I’m sort of in the middle of something.

No no, I’m sorry—but I’m so glad I caught you. Please listen to me.

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