Divvying the art
We cleaned up the basement in preparation for the boy’s birthday party tomorrow. It’s nice that even though he hasn’t been in his regular school for a while, 14 kids are still his friends. (Or there are 14 mothers who are eager for a couple of hours off on Saturday morning.)
Beth was luxuriating in her newly clean basement, catching up on “Gilmore Girls” while I assembled a hutch from Pottery Barn Kids.
We had to take down one of the art pieces I bought back in the 80s to put up the hutch. I took that moment of relative calm and cooperative domesticity to ask her if there was any of the art she absolutely had to have?
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, most of the art here is mine.”
“I think we bought most of it together, after we were living together.”
“Well, like Rentacolor,” I said. It’s a large painting that hangs in her office. I bought it before I knew her.
She miffed. “If you really want it back. I mean, it’s OK. Some people like to look at it. Or you could just let me keep it on permanent loan,” she sneered.(1)
This wasn’t going well. But then again, any conversation about splitting up assets goes like this.
“There are some pieces I want to take with me like Three Quiet Revolving Things.”
“Which one is that?”
“The one at the end of the basement hall.”
“Oh that. Yeah. I don’t like those,” she said. “But I do want to keep King Edward. And The Sticks.”
I groaned. “The Sticks is one of my favorites,” I said.
“But it looks so good in the living room.”
I’ll miss King Edward. And she can keep Rentacolor in her office, though I may want it back some day. But I’m not giving up The Sticks.
When she left that job, she returned Rentacolor to me. It’s now hanging over my bed. ↩︎