“Critique” is the continuation of a previous short story entitled “Collaboration.” You might want to read it first:
This series (“Collaboration & Critique & Collision”) involves subject matter that may be disturbing to a casual reader. As such I have decided to make the content available only to paid subscribers. However I don’t want to limit access to my readership, so if you become a subscriber through this link you will receive your subscription free for the first year.
If you would like to support my work by purchasing a paid subscription, you are welcome to subscribe here:
If you have any questions about becoming a member, please send me a message directly:
Critique
Fatima was scribbling notes on a yellow notepad, flipping back and forth between the pages. "I think we can get this into that gallery we talked about. The one in Chelsea. Remember? Serena loved my work, so how could she pass up my little brother?"
Ahmad summoned a smile that wouldn’t betray the disquieting tightness in his chest. "Yeah, that would be amazing." He shuffled towards the coffee maker, the old machine sputtering to life with a groan that echoed through the loft. He needed caffeine for this conversation, and fast.
“I took a break from touching up your painting to put together a list of galleries we can contact if things don’t work out with Serena. Look, in addition to Blue Door, there’s Brick & Mortar, Hudson View…” Fatima’s eyes gleamed as she tapped her pen against the notepad. “Actually I ran into that new assistant, what’s-his-name at Tenth Avenue the other day. He seemed quite impressed with your portfolio.”
Ahmad poked and prodded, hoping for a miracle, but the old machine was stubbornly unresponsive this morning. "Looks like we're out of luck on the coffee front," he sighed, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.
Fatima hopped down from her perch, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed him. "You don't seem as excited as I’d hoped you would be."
"No, I love it, Fati. I really do.” Ahmad leaned against the counter, rubbing his eyes. "Just tired, I guess." He checked his watch - the coffee shop would be open. Maybe they needed a change of scenery. “You must be hungry? Do you want to go get something to eat? We could beat the line if we hurry.” He glanced out the open kitchen window at the bustling street below. A siren wailed as it went by - all the energy and noise felt like freedom to him.
Fatima was examining the mural, her back to the window and the sprawling, chaotic streetscape. "I wanted to make sure it had structure, you know? Your work is so fluid and vibrant, but it needed some grounding. Like that Elias Rafiq piece at Blue Door. Remember? Serena said it's selling for a fortune." Her hand traced the clean and geometric lines she had added.
Ahmad nodded, suppressing another yawn, the mention of the artist making his eyes sting. He really needed that coffee. "Yeah, I get that. Grounded. And your work does look incredible." Two men were out of their cars and shouting at each other outside the rental garage across the street.
"But?" Fatima pressed, turning to face him, her eyebrows raised expectantly.
Ahmad sighed, pushing away from the counter. "It's just different from what I envisioned, I guess.” The words felt inadequate, a feeble attempt to express the unease that was gnawing at him. “Anyway, hey let’s talk about it over coffee, get some fresh air.”
Fatima's expression had tightened considerably. "Different?"
"Oh maybe that’s not right. I don't know. Your style is so precise and beautiful, not like mine. Maybe it's just me being too attached to my original idea."
Fatima strode past Ahmad, hefting the window shut. “I don’t know how you work with all that noise. It distracted me all night.” She turned toward him with her arms crossed, too close to him to be comfortable. "Tell me exactly what you think is wrong, Ahmad."
"No, it's not that. Nothing’s wrong. I appreciate all the work you put in. Really, I do."
“You think I overstepped.” Fatima’s lips were twisting across her face.
Ahmad sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not that simple, Fati. It's amazing work. I just need to process it."
Fatima's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and disappointment. "You know, I was trying to help you. Make it something truly special."
"And you did. It’s just... I wanted it to be more about the city's chaos, the organic growth."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "So my contributions ruined that?"
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Volt /and/ Fable to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.