could always use a fresh eye, you know, and the pay is pretty OK too.’
Greg simply nodded, his lips pressed into a firm, thin line.
‘So, if you have a – ’ Blake stumbled, a bit thrown by Greg's lack of enthusiasm – ‘portfolio, or something you can show us … ’
Greg shook his head, ‘No, I don't, but thanks for the offer. Maybe I can get your card,’ he added politely as he felt Karen's hand slip off his knee.
‘Yep, good call there, Greg.’ Stacy was busy ordering another glass of wine. ‘Stick to the arts, don't fall into the corporate trap.’
Karen stared down at the table, refusing to meet Greg’s eyes. Soon after, they asked for the bill, and Blake carefully navigated Stacy out of her chair as they said their goodbyes.
When they were gone, Karen turned to him. ‘Well, you can't blame a girl for trying,’ she said, her dark gaze penetrating his.
‘No, I suppose you can't,’ he said dully. ‘But Karen, I take pictures of buildings, architecture, people in the city …’
‘Well, I’m sorry for trying to help,’ she replied, her tone defensive. ‘I know what you take pictures of, I am so very sorry that my line of work is not … ’ she paused, searching for the right word, ‘ … artistic enough for you.’
Greg put a hand on her arm. ‘That's not what I meant at all. It's just that I’ve only just quit my corporate job, and am starting to get my feet wet, and today I found out that I might be able to get something at the NYT . I’m only just finding my feet, sweetheart, and already I’m loving it. You know I hated the corporate life. So why would you want me to sell out again so soon?’
Karen looked down at his sneakers beneath the table. ‘Because I can’t help but worry about the future – especially in this economy … ’
Greg sighed. ‘I know, I'm sorry. I’ll admit that life is probably not going to be as … comfortable as it was for a while, but we have to give it a little time. And I’ll be happy – I am happy. Surely that counts for something too?’ He waited for her to look up at him again, but she didn't. ‘Karen … ’
He understood that she enjoyed and worked hard to afford the finer things in life. Born and bred on Long Island, she came from a big family, completely different to Greg’s privileged, only child upbringing.
Her parents were great, and were always asking the two of them to come over for dinner, see a show or spend weekends. Karen had three other sisters and one brother, all only a year or two apart in age.
It was just the kind of big, close-knit family that Greg had been envious of his whole life, and he marvelled at how they finished each other’s sentences, how they picked on each other and yet never seemed to get really mad at each other. They had welcomed him into the fold happily, pleased that Karen had met someone so successful, so nice, who treated her so well. Karen herself was the eldest daughter and the most successful out of the whole clan. She had worked her way through college waitressing, and had held off on getting into a serious relationship long after all her brothers and sisters had got married. Her mother, after meeting Greg for the first time, had said, ‘I see why you waited Karen, I see it perfectly.’
Because of her working-class roots, Greg had thought that she would understand better than most that people can be happy no matter what they had, and even without a regular job, he and Karen were still better off than most. He knew for a plain cold fact after meeting Stacy that he did not want to end up like that. Married to a job he had no passion for, the realisation that you could have made it if you’d just tried harder.
No, he’d done the corporate thing and he was not going back, especially now that he felt that – given a chance – he could be successful at something he truly loved.
Karen finally looked up, a slight smile on her face. ‘I still can’t believe they let you in here with those
Greg simply nodded, his lips pressed into a firm, thin line.
‘So, if you have a – ’ Blake stumbled, a bit thrown by Greg's lack of enthusiasm – ‘portfolio, or something you can show us … ’
Greg shook his head, ‘No, I don't, but thanks for the offer. Maybe I can get your card,’ he added politely as he felt Karen's hand slip off his knee.
‘Yep, good call there, Greg.’ Stacy was busy ordering another glass of wine. ‘Stick to the arts, don't fall into the corporate trap.’
Karen stared down at the table, refusing to meet Greg’s eyes. Soon after, they asked for the bill, and Blake carefully navigated Stacy out of her chair as they said their goodbyes.
When they were gone, Karen turned to him. ‘Well, you can't blame a girl for trying,’ she said, her dark gaze penetrating his.
‘No, I suppose you can't,’ he said dully. ‘But Karen, I take pictures of buildings, architecture, people in the city …’
‘Well, I’m sorry for trying to help,’ she replied, her tone defensive. ‘I know what you take pictures of, I am so very sorry that my line of work is not … ’ she paused, searching for the right word, ‘ … artistic enough for you.’
Greg put a hand on her arm. ‘That's not what I meant at all. It's just that I’ve only just quit my corporate job, and am starting to get my feet wet, and today I found out that I might be able to get something at the NYT . I’m only just finding my feet, sweetheart, and already I’m loving it. You know I hated the corporate life. So why would you want me to sell out again so soon?’
Karen looked down at his sneakers beneath the table. ‘Because I can’t help but worry about the future – especially in this economy … ’
Greg sighed. ‘I know, I'm sorry. I’ll admit that life is probably not going to be as … comfortable as it was for a while, but we have to give it a little time. And I’ll be happy – I am happy. Surely that counts for something too?’ He waited for her to look up at him again, but she didn't. ‘Karen … ’
He understood that she enjoyed and worked hard to afford the finer things in life. Born and bred on Long Island, she came from a big family, completely different to Greg’s privileged, only child upbringing.
Her parents were great, and were always asking the two of them to come over for dinner, see a show or spend weekends. Karen had three other sisters and one brother, all only a year or two apart in age.
It was just the kind of big, close-knit family that Greg had been envious of his whole life, and he marvelled at how they finished each other’s sentences, how they picked on each other and yet never seemed to get really mad at each other. They had welcomed him into the fold happily, pleased that Karen had met someone so successful, so nice, who treated her so well. Karen herself was the eldest daughter and the most successful out of the whole clan. She had worked her way through college waitressing, and had held off on getting into a serious relationship long after all her brothers and sisters had got married. Her mother, after meeting Greg for the first time, had said, ‘I see why you waited Karen, I see it perfectly.’
Because of her working-class roots, Greg had thought that she would understand better than most that people can be happy no matter what they had, and even without a regular job, he and Karen were still better off than most. He knew for a plain cold fact after meeting Stacy that he did not want to end up like that. Married to a job he had no passion for, the realisation that you could have made it if you’d just tried harder.
No, he’d done the corporate thing and he was not going back, especially now that he felt that – given a chance – he could be successful at something he truly loved.
Karen finally looked up, a slight smile on her face. ‘I still can’t believe they let you in here with those
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