Free Too Far Under by Lynn Osterkamp

never met him, although I had mentioned him occasionally.
Now I’d have to introduce them.
    “It’s a long story,” Brian said slowly. “A
lot of things have changed in my life. I’ve actually been back here
about a year.” He paused briefly as if collecting his thoughts,
then continued in a cheerful tone that rang a little false. “I
thought about looking you up, but it’s been so long and I felt
embarrassed that I hadn’t called. So I was waiting for the right
moment to come along, and here it is.”
    Wow! What were the odds that Pablo and I
would both reconnect in the same week with former lovers from years
ago? Not that I felt any connection to Brian—but anyway, here he
was.
    If there’s any good way to introduce a former
boyfriend to a current one, I don’t know what it is. So I sucked it
up and forged ahead. “Um, Brian, this is my boyfriend Pablo. This
is his work here that we’re looking at. Pablo, this is Brian. He’s
an old friend.” Just like Mia is your old friend, I thought.
    They shook hands and muttered polite, not
very sincere nice-to-meet-yous. To break the tension, I turned to
Brian and asked, “Do you come to Faye’s gallery often?”
    “Sometimes. Not often. But today I came to
see Angelica Townes’ paintings,” Brian said motioning toward the
back of the gallery where her work was hung.
    “So you know Angelica?” I asked.
    “Not well, but I knew her mother and I know
how proud she was of Angelica’s art, so I wanted to see her show.
I’d say she’s talented for a ten-year-old. But you’re the artist.
What do you think?”
    Brian looked genuinely interested in my
opinion, but I didn’t want to engage him in conversation. “We were
here for the opening, but it was crowded and I didn’t get much
chance to look at her work,” I said.
    “Sure. Well, I have to go right now anyway.
But maybe we can get together next week and catch up. Give me a
call when you have some time.” He stuck a card in my hand, waved
and headed out the front door.
    “Okay. See you. Bye.” I stuttered, still in a
daze. I glanced down at his card. “Brian Alavi, Creative Graphic
Design.” A phone number and a web address followed. Did he really
expect me to call? Especially after he’d been in town for a year
but hadn’t called me? That was so Brian. Always needing to be in
control, looking for the perfect way to present himself. Thinking
he could design his life as if it were a book cover or a
brochure.
    I noticed that Pablo wasn’t standing next to
me anymore, looked around and found him talking to Faye over at the
counter in the middle of the gallery. When I walked up, their
conversation seemed to take a sudden turn as if I’d interrupted a
confidential talk.
    “What’s up?” I asked.
    “Faye was filling me in on who bought my
work,” Pablo said.
    “And dishing the dirt on your old boyfriend,”
Faye leaned back against the counter and gave me a big smirk.
    “What dirt?” I asked.
    “Was he a Scientologist when you were
together?” Faye asked.
    I laughed. “A Scientologist? No way! Brian?
He was so conventional he thought vegetarians were weird. You’re
not saying he’s a Scientologist now, are you?”
    Faye nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. He’s a
Scientologist all right. Very involved. He came in here one day
with Mirabel Townes—you know she was the silent partner in this
gallery, so she was here quite a bit. Anyway he gave me a bunch of
literature about the way to happiness and invited me to a free
lecture.”
    “Yes, I heard that Mirabel became a
Scientologist after her daughter died,” I said, remembering what
Elisa had told me.
    “True,” Faye said, “but one thing I have to
say for Mirabel, after she got into Scientology she never tried to
convert me. But this guy Brian is quite the evangelist.”
    “Sounds like you and Brian have a lot to
catch up with,” Pablo said.
    “At least as much as you and Mia,” I shot
back.
    “Touché,” Pablo said with a grin. “How