* * *
You’re welcome, Nadine says.
* * *
How strange, to hear Mia speak so many words.
* * *
It takes some distance from Mia, hours and days spent without her, for Nadine to hear more fully what was said. She’s on the A train home late at night, alone in a fast-moving car, when she understands. Mia was thanking her for her ignorance.
It’s not easy, trying to get rid of a thought like that, and when Nadine tries, the opposite happens, a cramp in her stomach and a new thought, a worse thought, a word: disturbed. That’s what she is to Mia, isn’t it? She’s the soldiers, the thing you see every day but don’t see, the thing you pretend is normal even though it’s sick. The disturbance.
* * *
At the end of their last session, Nadine is sitting on her bed, knees to her chest, closing her eyes so as not to hear the clicking. She makes her fingertips remember touching Mia — the back of her neck, her shoulders — while she makes the rest of her imagine how tomorrow will feel.
* * *
Nadine’s closed eyes accelerate the clicking; Mia is seeing, it seems, something she has never seen before. And she must be touched, because she is doing what she does when she’s touched — she clicks.
* * *
Mia leaves that day like she’s going out for milk. See you later, she says.
* * *
Mia’s words on her voice mail months later are garbled. Nadine hears June 5th, hears 6 p.m., hears really, really hope you can make it. Listening to Mia’s voice again, Nadine feels like she’s looking at an old photograph of herself in which she’s wearing clothes she never owned and someone else’s face.
* * *
At the gallery, after hours on a Wednesday, Nadine is standing erect looking at herself, and herself is looking right back at her from the wall. The opening was wonderful, I was sad you couldn’t make it, Mia says. And then: Everyone wanted to meet you.
* * *
She looks at Mia straight in the eyes then, and there is a feeling deep inside her, the pull of a magnet toward metal. It is hard — physically hard — but she resists the pull. She sees Mia’s need to reach for the camera, to click the moment away.
* * *
So … on to the next project? Nadine asks. Not really, Mia says, shakes her head lightly. And then: I’m kind of exhausted. Mia seems to be saying something, and this is the kind of moment that used to get Nadine’s heart beating faster with potential. If only she asked the right thing the right way, if only she managed to open the moment, reveal what’s inside. Well, you’ve been working hard, Nadine says. Mia nods but looks down, says nothing at first, then: I’m never exhausted from hard work. She’s definitely trying to say something. A small voice inside Nadine is whispering, See? It’s always been here, but Nadine tries hard not to listen.
* * *
Have you read the reviews? Mia asks. Nadine doesn’t know anything about any reviews. No, she says. Don’t, Mia says, and chuckles, those critics did not go easy on me. Okay then, Nadine says, I won’t. Oh, I’m joking, Mia says, of course you can read them. Nadine resists the urge to take Mia’s hand as she says, These are beautiful, Mia, they’re all beautiful. She feels a bit strange saying this, she doesn’t mean to suggest she herself is beautiful, of course, but Mia is nodding now, closes her eyes, says, I’m very happy to hear you say that. There’s a moment of silence before Mia says, The critics are right, though, that’s the worst part; I’m always reaching for something and not quite getting there. What is Nadine supposed to say to that? Look at you, she wants to say. Dare to look at you, and maybe you’ll get there. But she says nothing.
* * *
Outside the gallery they hug, and a car screeches and comes to a full stop for no apparent reason. For a moment they both look at the driver, then Nadine looks at Mia and shrugs, and the car is back on its way. They hug again, because it is easier than saying goodbye, and at the end of that hug Mia grabs Nadine’s shoulders, looks straight into her eyes, says, Thank you. Nadine shakes her head and looks down.
* * *
Then there is nothing to do but for Mia to take her hands off Nadine’s shoulders, and when she does there is a sensation between them, a balloon letting go of the air inside it. Nadine wants to stand there with that feeling a bit, but she knows that if she does the next thing that happens will be restlessness, Mia’s restlessness. And she knows this: she needs to leave before the restlessness comes, or restlessness will be the last thing they ever share. Goodbye, then, Nadine says, and Mia says, Bye, and her eyes seem to tear up a bit, but Nadine isn’t sure, it might be from the wind. And on that thought Nadine turns around and walks away, hoping that Mia is standing there looking at her. If she is, she is no doubt noticing the composition — the widening of the street toward the end of the block, the sprawling streetlights and brown skies, Nadine’s back getting smaller — and she is squinting and gently biting her lip, regretting that she doesn’t have her camera.