Member-only story
The Bridgers
In this short story, an old composer teaches a peculiar young artist how to drive herself out of the doldrums.
Tourists often asked her which paintings in the museum cost the most money.
She thought they missed the point and would simply shrug.
She had a bachelor’s in art history, but the same loans that enabled a ShopRite cashier to study Florentine quattrocento paintings had become a burden. When she went to the museum to look for work, dreading a possible return to ringing up groceries upstate, the only job openings were for security guards in the galleries. Spurned on by Sallie Mae’s frequent notifications, she accepted.
The museum announced a budget crisis only a few months after she started, followed by a hiring freeze. She had just starting asking about transitioning to various curatorial departments.
After three years on the job, she began panicking. Tourists continued to do things like point at the paintings with the wet umbrellas they brought inside on rainy days. She would run over, yelling, to make sure that wet plastic never made contact with the artwork. Rather than shrink back in embarrassment or apologize, the tourists laughed at the…