Manhattan Dreaming (18 page)

‘I'm sorry, you probably don't want to talk about it.'

‘No – I want to talk about it, it was a long time before I could. And it's my history. We are what our past has made us. I'm good now. Healthy, fit, getting back into life and dating again, I have to.'

Julian didn't seem to take a breath. He was telling me more than he really needed to, exposing himself, like guests do on American talk shows, à la
Maury
, or worse,
Springer
. The kind of shows that would never work in Australia because we're far more conservative. Julian was still talking as the waiter delivered our food to the table.

‘I want someone in my life. I feel like I haven't lived for a long time. And this is nice, this …'

‘Brunch?' I shot in quickly.

‘Yes, I guess. My friends called it a date.'

‘That's funny, so did mine. I like New York for that, you can have a coffee and a runny egg with soldiers' – we both smiled – ‘and it's called a date. It sounds nice but it can still just mean we are friends.'

‘Truth is, Lauren' – Julian paused and put a soldier back on his plate – ‘I'm looking to settle down again. I'm not cut out for the singles scene, or massive amounts of dating. I don't roll like that. Most of my friends are single and out partying, but I can't do that with a six-year-old. I don't want to any more anyway. I like the healthy life.'

‘Me too. I didn't even drink much until I came to Manhattan and people started siphoning cocktails down my throat. I've drunk more in a week than I would in six months back home.'

Julian laughed.

I felt compelled to explain my usual workout routine because Julian was a trainer. ‘No, seriously, I'm at the gym most days, when I can, but I've been working really long days since I started at the museum. I'll fall into a routine soon enough.'

‘You just need discipline and focus – you look like you work out. Athletic legs, toned arms. The routine will come back quick enough, but you have to live as well, and New York is the place for that.'

The waiter returned and topped our water glasses up. Julian put both hands around his glass, looking at it momentarily, and then glanced up at me.

‘I know we've just met, but I like you, Lauren. You're cute, especially in those specs, and I didn't need Wyatt to tell me you're smart and sexy. I figured that out pretty much straight away.' I frowned; we were just on a brunch date.

‘I'm looking for a relationship,' he blurted out.

What had happened to the obligation-free New York date? Someone had been lying to me.

‘What about you?' Julian looked desperately into my eyes.

‘I'm not looking for a relationship at all. I just wanted to have brunch with you, talk about Canberra, that's all. I thought that's all this was.'

‘I'm sorry … it's just that you won't last a week single here, Lauren. Trust me.'

‘I'm not single, really. I've still got someone in my heart and head 24/7 and hope to be reunited with him soon.'

‘Well. At least we sorted that out quickly. I don't want to go on six or seven dates and then realise the woman is on a different path to me. It's happened before with women I get involved with. I let them get close to me and we're intimate and then weeks later they're gone because they don't actually want a relationship. So now I just lay it out on the table straight up. When you've got a child you can't let yourself get emotionally attached to someone every few weeks. I can't let Cindi see a stream of girlfriends come and go.' Julian was sincere and clearly a good catch for anyone wanting what he wanted.

‘Well, it sounds like you're miles in front of the average guy, with or without kids, just by knowing what you want and how to get it. I reckon you could give women some tips too.'

As we walked down to the corner of Spring Street it was an awkward goodbye. I had been so foolish. Kirsten was right, who wanted to sit in New York on Sunday and talk about Canberra?

‘Perhaps we could be friends. Work out together?' Julian said earnestly.

‘Perhaps. Either way, take care, might see you at the museum sometime.'

I walked off, unsure trying to be friends was a good idea.

I emailed Libby when I got home:

She emailed me back a clip from YouTube. It was the scene from
When Harry Met Sally
where Billy Crystal's character is explaining to Meg Ryan that it's impossible for men and women to be ‘just friends' because the man is always thinking about having sex with the woman. I didn't want Julian thinking about having sex with me – I wanted Adam to.

On Monday, Wyatt stuck his head around the partition between our workstations.

‘How was brunch with Julian?'

‘At least you didn't call it a date, like everyone else did.'

‘Sorry, should I not have given you his number? He said you agreed to coffee.'

‘No, it's fine, I did. But I thought that's all it was, coffee and chatting about Canberra. I'm not here to date really, Wyatt. Don't get me wrong, Julian is lovely, a really nice, smart guy, but he's looking for a relationship, and I'm not interested in a relationship right now. I want to focus on my work here, just like you really.'

‘Julian is a good guy, Lauren, but really, men – and I mean
all
men – will say whatever it takes to get near a pretty woman. You'll learn this in New York.'

‘Are you saying that none of them are sincere, then?'

‘Not at all, I'm just saying that if they want to pursue you, they will.'

Wyatt went back to his computer and I looked at my own screen. I felt my ‘Love needs faith' pendant and silently wished and hoped that things could actually pan out for Adam and I. If I did have faith, I'd have to focus on the possibilities and not get distracted by the other options blossoming around me. If nothing else, it was better the devil I knew.

The next few weeks were intense at work: coordinating with staff across the museum, meeting artists, getting lost in corridors that all led to new places and learning to navigate my way around the city. I was busy, and grateful for all the distractions from thinking about Adam.

I started planning my own exhibition – going through the work of some of my favourite artists. I wanted to showcase the diversity of Aboriginal Australia. I had to consider also how well the works would sit within the NMAI space. I pulled together some ideas for Wyatt and Maria to consider, including Adam Hill's ‘Despite her race she was a winner' – a painting depicting an Aboriginal female athlete crossing the finish line and breaking the tape. His signature blue skies, flatbottom clouds and graphic design–styled canvas would sit well in contrast with jewellery designed by Darrell Sibosado from the Bard people of Lombadina. His mother-of-pearl carved and set onto silver pendants were gaining international interest for their fashionability in city centres.

I put together a series of images from Elaine Russell's kid's book
The Shack that Dad Built
about life growing up at La Perouse in Sydney. And included some of Julie Dowling's self-portraits, which would add commentary on identity and consider issues around Aboriginal people with fair skin.

These were on top of the artists we were including in the urban exhibition back home. I wanted to combine some of those artists with some new ones here to promote as many as possible.

I also began working with the Community House across the road from the Smithsonian. It was a social services agency that also had an unofficial gallery and performing arts program with exhibitions, workshops and social events.

Together we planned to exhibit Wayne Quilliam's ‘Lowanna' (Beautiful Woman) collection, which would open at the centre after its showings in Germany, France and Switzerland. The gallery had all white walls and one black wall and the photographs would contrast perfectly against both. All I had to do was hang the show when it arrived and the resident curator would organise to get the Melbourne-based photographer to New York.

I was finally settling into Manhattan too. I did the Saturday morning markets with the girls, felt less crazy on the subway, and was being braver about travelling alone later at night.

I also learned to carry change in my pockets for buskers and beggars. Sometimes I stopped to say hello and to listen to local buskers, who added colour and atmosphere to an already thriving city.

I finally established an exercise routine at the gym, taking to the treadmill at the New York Sports Club on the corner of 23rd and 8th Avenues most mornings, sweating and panting and staring out the windows at Breadstix across the road. I upped the incline as I thought about their layer cakes and cheesecakes and French toast. I salivated and perspired thinking about their tiramisu, hamentaschen, apple danish, almond horns, and fruit tarts. But I was strong and only indulged in a fresh orange juice and deep inhale of the pastries after the gym. I remained amused by those who went in and ordered eggwhites on their toast.

At the end of the month a group of Native curators visited from Canada to talk to Maria about touring exhibitions between the various Native museums there and the NMAI. I was asked to give a brief presentation on the NAG – our history, mandate, current exhibitions, acquisitions policies and so on. I was proud to talk about the gallery and the role we played in maintaining Aboriginal culture in Australia, and now showcasing it to the world. There were plenty of questions about artists, mediums and markets, and Wyatt was there and seemed to be completely engaged in everything I said. I felt even more proud, knowing he could easily pass on all the information to others as part of his work from now on if need be. And that was the whole point of the fellowship – the exchange of information and ideas.

After a long but inspiring day we all went to the White Horse Tavern after work to unwind. I felt right at home when I saw a bottle of Australian Yellow Tail Merlot sitting on the bar. The White Horse, although an Irish Bar, had an eclectic interior design, or lack of design, with US flags, Irish shamrocks, four-leaf clovers, hockey sticks, baseball caps and the odd sailor's hat. There were high-backed wooden stools at the long bar and booths to sit in. Christmas lights hung above the bar like they had been there for years. It was another comfortable bar, like East of 8, but with much burlier men – builders and labourers and tradesmen of all kinds, but also men in suits.

‘Gee, it's busy,' I said to Wyatt as we propped ourselves at the bar.

‘It's always busy on Thursday and Friday nights. The music'll start soon.'

‘So this is your local?'

‘Not really, but we come here after work sometimes. It's close, down to earth, the crowd is pretty mixed, so no dramas. By the way, Lauren, I loved your presentation today. It really made me want to go to Oz.'

‘You should, it's a beautiful country, and you'd go mad with all the galleries and museums.'

‘They have critters there, though, don't they?'

‘Critics?'

‘Critt
ers
– you know, spiders and snakes.' Wyatt squirmed in his seat and I thought, here he is, the fabulous gallery guy, frightened of bugs and reptiles. Wyatt really wasn't a blokey bloke at all.

‘Oh, the sharks will get you before the red-backs or pythons.' I couldn't help myself – foreigners were always worried about shark attacks. ‘Seriously, we have poisonous snakes in Australia like the taipan and the red-bellied black and the death adder, but the likelihood of getting bitten is small, especially in the city.'

Wyatt didn't answer, just kept looking at me, and I was concerned I'd freaked him out unnecessarily.

‘Are you okay?' I asked.

‘You have really beautiful eyes,' he said. I remembered I'd left my glasses on my desk at work.

‘Oh, they look better after every beer. Drink up.'

‘This is my first beer.' He picked up his glass and took a sip. ‘But now, ma'am, I think we're all heading to the François Tavern for something to eat. You in?' Wyatt asked.

‘Yes, sounds good, I'm starving.'

We headed out into the New York dusk and went to the François Tavern around the corner. We sat near the windows. The bar had dim lighting and the wooden chairs and tables somehow matched the American flags and rifles on the walls and the tiny kerosene lamps on the window ledge. Everyone was chatting about art and New York and trans-American and trans-Atlantic projects, and I was truly happy with my lot.