Free Chimera by Stephie Walls Page A

wrap my head around what I’ve committed to.” I laugh but it’s obvious I’m not joking. Luckily, they overlook my nervous anxiety.
    “Ferry, what about you?”
    “I’ll email you if I think of anything. In the meantime, I’ll start working on getting you the information you need. And, Bastian, I’ll send over what we have on Kaleidoscope Dark if you’re good with that?”
    Knowing what we all need to do, the call ends. My immediate thought is to call Sera, but my fingers dial Nate instead. I can’t begin to repay him for putting up with my ass the last five years, but maybe telling him his faith in me has opened a door will give him a little bit back. Not one other person has stood by me, never wavering. Even my parents gave up. I don’t even hear from them on holidays anymore. They buried me and Sylvie that day. Nate is it.
    “What’s up, man?”
    “Nate, you’re not going to believe the call I just got.”
    “Damn, Bastian, your voice is shaking. Are you okay? I’m not far from your house. Do you want me to come by?”
    “No. I mean, you can, but I don’t need you to. I just got off the phone with Tara Winford.”
    “Is that the art chick?” Leave it to Nate to completely oversimplify Tara’s clout in the art community with his ignorance. I roll my eyes and smile. God love him.
    “Yeah, one of the most influential ‘artchicks’ in the country. Anyway, she asked us to do an exhibit of KD.”
    “Your food thing?” Jesus, I don’t know why I bother sometimes.
    “Yes, Nate. The project with Ferry.”
    “That’s fucking great, man! When is it? Are you going to put anything else in?” The excitement in his voice radiates through the phone. I feel his happiness for me.
    “In about two months. Ferry’s going to put in a collection, and I’m going to try to provide some work, too, with KD being center stage.”
    There’s a long pause. Nate’s mulling something over in that little brain of his, but he isn’t quite sure how to say whatever is on his mind.
    “Just spit it out, Nate.”
    “Do you have anything else to put in?” His voice is small, as though he is afraid his words will destroy me.
    “Actually, I’m almost done with a canvas now, but other than that, not really. I’m going to have to get moving. I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew, but if I can come up with two to three more, it won’t be a train wreck. Well, if they’re any good it won’t.” My face scrunches at the thought of failure as if it’s not a possibility, when in reality, it’s a very real one.
    “Congrats, Bastian. I’m proud of you, man.” I already know he is. I could wither away in my house and never paint another damn thing and Nate would hold me in the same regard.
    Sera’s my next call, I can’t wait to tell her, talk to someone who understands the gravity of the conversation I just had, but any thought of exchanging joy comes to an abrupt halt when Sera answers the phone. She utters hello in an unrecognizable, broken tone—she’s either currently crying or has been crying recently. Tara flees from thought, my only concern becoming comforting Sera.
    “Hey. What’s wrong?” I receive heavy breathing as a reply before a labored verbal response.
    “I’ve had a tough day. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have answered until I wasn’t acting like a girl.”
    “Do you want to talk about it? I’m a pretty good listener.”
    “I need to get out of my studio. Do you want to go get some coffee or something? I need some fresh air, so maybe someplace downtown with a patio?”
    “Uh, yeah…sure. Let me throw on some shoes and I’ll come pick you up. How about that little cafe on Coffee Street that you like so much that has the balcony that overlooks Main? Rulatta’s?”
    “That’d be great.” Her voice hangs in the air. “Thanks, Bastian. See you in a few.”
    Driving to her studio, every thought runs through my head of what could possibly dim Sera’s light. She’s always so upbeat and