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Chapter XXI

“Marshall, you are walking a Weiner dog around. You are Marshall Mathers, Eminem, Slim Fucking Shady, and you’ve got a little dachshund on a leash like you’re Paris Hilton,” Dre said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
“Fuck off Dre, so he’s not a pit bull, what’s it matter?” Marshall replied scooping the dog up and sitting down with him on the couch.
“I still can’t believe you have one of those dogs. People are gonna be talking man,” Dre remarked steadily.
“Well, if they don’t like it, they can go fuck themselves, I don’t really care.”
“So how did you get her to come with you?” Dre asked, knowing that was what Marshall was all riled up over.
“I didn’t, she just showed up, she didn’t want to come initially, I told her where the extra ticket was and she just showed up. I really didn’t think she would come.”
“And so that’s why you’re just so thrilled to be here in the studio with me, when she’s waiting for you back at the hotel, right?” Dre was insinuating again.
“If you’re waiting for me to tell you that we’ve been kicking it, you got another thing coming,” Marshall said, giving him a sideways glance, putting Oscar down on the floor.
“You sure you haven’t?” Marshall looked away.
“Ah, see, you was lying!” Dre laughed and Marshall just rolled his eyes.
“I wasn’t lying, it only happened once. We’ve kinda been keeping our distance from one another lately.”
“Oh? And why is that? Oh wait a minute, the divorce came through, I see what this is all about.” Things were steadily falling into place.
“Yeah, basically,” Marshall mumbled, watching Oscar wrestle with his stuffed BoBo.
“You gonna get back together with her, or what? I mean, she doesn’t seem like the one night stand type, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Man, if you want to, go after her, and don’t think twice about it. Cause man, when you start thinking, bad things happen. Smoke starts coming out cha ears, you get all beady eyed and pissy for weeks at a time.”
“I don’t get pissy,” Marshall retorted.
“Yes you do, it’s worse than when my wife gets her period, and that’s saying something.” Even Marshall had to laugh at that one, he knew Mrs. Young’s wrath all too well.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know, I’m still trying to figure it all out. I mean, we got into this big fight the other day, and I’m not sure where we stand. I mean, she wants to move out.”
“Well, you can’t blame the girl. You’re not gonna need her soon, she’ll be out of a job.” Dre replied nodding.
“You forget that I didn’t need a cook in the first place,” he replied, eyeing Dre suspiciously.
“Oh right, and who are you Emeril? Please, maybe she staved you off from having a heart attack a few years earlier than you were supposed to.”
“All right, maybe I did. But that still doesn’t erase the fact that I have no idea what the hell I’m gonna do about this.”
“You ain’t gonna get any work done today, is you?” Dre asked.
“No.”
“Then take your ass and your wimpy dog back to the hotel.” Oscar barked indignantly and bit Dre on the leg. All Marshall could do was laugh.

“So where do you want to go first?” Marshall asked the next morning.
“Hum, I was thinking, one of the museums. I’ve never been to one before,” Coral replied, sipping her coffee.
“All right, well, there’s Museum Mile, that has the Natural History Museum, The Metropolitan, the Guggenheim, I think a textile Museum, and possibly one on Jewish history or something, the only other one I remember hearing about is the Museum of Modern Art,” Marshall replied, picking up Cody who was sitting on a nearby chair. The bird squawked happily as it was placed on Marshall’s shoulder and sat down at the table with Coral.
“Cultured are we?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No, I just took Hailie to the Natural History place, and most of them are all on that one street. I’ve never been to any of the real art museums,” he said, giving the bird a piece of fruit to chew on.
“Well, what about the Museum of Modern Art?”
“All right, I’ll call them up and see what they can arrange. We’re not in Kansas anymore,” he laughed pulling out his cell phone.

They arrived at the museum around noon and were ushered inside by one of the curators.
“Would you like a guide?” the older woman asked pleasantly.
“I think we’ll be all right,” Coral replied smiling warmly.
“Well if there is anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”
They were left to their own devices and wandered off in search of the galleries.
“Now some of this stuff, I just don’t get,” Marshall said as he stood in front of a chair made from a pile of red cording.
“What’s the point?” he asked.
“The point is that it doesn’t have to have function to be beautiful.” Coral explained.
“All right, well, I still don’t get it, but whatever. That is kinda cool though,” Marshall remarked pointing to the chandelier above their heads. Pieces of broken white china were clustered into a magnificent light fixture.
“That is pretty neat, we could fix something like that in the dining room when we get home, you know? You do have that collection of broken stuff in the garage.” Coral reminded.
“You know, you’re right,” but he wasn’t thinking about the light anymore. Coral had said, “When we get home.” Maybe she wasn’t so eager to leave after all.
“Imagine that, every time you break something you could turn it into a beautiful piece of art.”
“Does that go for my heart too?” Marshall wanted to ask, but he knew it was too stupid, corny and very boy band like too, so he didn’t. But he wished he could have found out the answer. He wanted to know if his heart, broken into that many pieces when she was gone would be beautiful too.
“Come on, there’s some paintings I want you to see over here,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him into another room.
He looked around at the paint splattered canvases and was mesmerized by the movement.
“Jackson Pollock. Now I now a lot of people blather about him, but I think he really had something going.” Coral said, still holding onto his hand. He was concentrating on that, that she hadn’t let go, not yet, maybe she wouldn’t. There was always that possibility.
“These canvases are huge, how did he manage to do all this?” Marshall asked.
“Rolled them out on the floor, could get to them easier and be in closer contact with the piece.”
“Wow, it’s all I can say.”
“You know, I thought of his work, when I was listening to your stuff. You got a lot of similarities,” Coral remarked, turning to look at him.
“Really?” Marshall asked skeptically.
“No, seriously. The whole basis for the art movement of Abstract Expressionism was that the artist, let the emotion from inside him create the picture. When most people look at this, they just see a mess, just like you. But when you get closer,” Coral turned to him and took a step closer to him, and he nearly gulped.
“You see the color, and the rhythm and the beat, the swirling of the emotion, feeling, strength. You’re music did that to me. I mean so many people just want to brush this off as ‘something a three year old could do’, and it’s so much more than that. It’s not the fact of the paint on the canvas, it was the feeling behind it. What it took to create it, just like you. People look at your lyrics and say it’s just filth and nothing good in it. That’s because they don’t take the time to look into the music, hear the rhythm and the beat, the tone of your voice, your selection of words, the life you had to live in order to write those songs. And I think that something like this, is even more beautiful than the most detailed painting in the world, and your music is more beautiful than any gospel voice singing Ave Maria, because you have something behind it.” Marshall didn’t know what to say.
“No body’s given me a compliment like that before, I don’t know what to do with it,” he replied after a moment, looking at her finally.
“You can accept it, and realize it’s the truth.” She smiled at him, then stood on her tiptoes to give him a soft kiss on the lips, surprising the hell out of him. When she stepped back she was still holding his hand. He was ready to say something when a curator came in.
“I see you found the Pollock’s, I must say they are some of my favorites as well,” the man said with a smile.
“They’re something, that’s for sure,” Coral remarked, “Hey, do you think you could take our picture in front of this one here?” Coral asked, pulling out her camera.
“Of course I could, you two go stand there,” the curator replied, taking her camera.
“Great, come on Marshall,” she laughed, tugging him back a few steps. He laughed slightly but turned around. He was surprised when he put his arms around Coral and she didn’t protest, but was even more surprised when he looked at the picture later and saw how happy they looked together. He’d even managed a smile.

The few days turned into a week. They went site seeing in the mornings and Coral sat in the studio while he polished off his tracks in the afternoons and evenings before they went out for dinner. Dre was constantly shaking his head when the dog was around, especially when Oscar showed him what he thought of him by peeing on his foot.
“I told you not to insult the dog, man,” Marshall remarked as Dre tried to clean off his shoe.
“That dog is gonna end up with a trip to the hot dog vendors very soon if you don’t watch it,” Dre retorted. Coral shook her head and just picked up the dog, Cody balancing on her shoulder.
In a week they’d been to Time’s Square, the Statue of Liberty, all the Museums they could find, two Broadway Shows, a Jazz concert, the Apollo theater, the Empire State Building and gone shopping on Fifth Avenue. Marshall made a big fuss over buying Coral some clothes, but finally he was allowed to do it. She helped him pick out a suit to wear to the shows, and he helped her decide on a dress.
“You’re turning into a regular tour de France, ain’t ya?” Dre remarked one day.
“What?” Marshall snapped.
“Going to Broadway shows, the theater, what the hell happened?”
“It’s called doing things. There is more to life than going to parties and sitting around getting drunk or wasted. Some of the stuff is pretty cool, if you give it a chance. Personally I didn’t care to much for that last play we saw, but it was one of those modern things, really weird.”
“Man, you’re getting weird. Wanting to settle down, getting a Weiner dog, playing with parrots, going to jazz concerts for cripes sake. You’re starting to scare me.”
“I guess I’ve mellowed with age,” Marshall said, none fazed as he sat at the mixing board.
“Maybe. But your music is still there man. This album, I’m telling you, it’s the shit,” Dre remarked.
“Thanks, I’m glad I decided to come back. I shoulda realized a long time ago, I can’t give this up. If I wait for Kim to give me rights to see Hailie I’ll be sitting in that house for the rest of my life. At least this way I’ll be staying busy.”
“It’s a good way to look at it.”
“Yeah, and if that house is gonna be empty, why sit in it.”
“You’re moving into dangerous territory again man. Did you talk to her yet?”
“No.”
“You need to.”
“I know I do.”
“Hey, you guys finished up yet?” Coral asked, knocking on the door.
“Uh yeah, lets go get some dinner,” Marshall nodded, getting up out of his chair.

“That was good food, I’ll have to remember the recipe. I bet Jackie could use that for the restaurant.” Coral said nodding.
“Yeah it was.” Marshall replied quickly.
“You okay?” Coral asked.
“Yeah, fine. You want to go for a walk? Thought we might go over to Central Park, we’ve never been there before,” Marshall said as he waved for a taxi.
“All right, but we better make it quick, it looks like it’s going to start snowing soon,” Coral said as she slid inside the taxi that Marshall held the door open of.
“We won’t be too long. Just a short walk.”
As the taxi pulled up at the park, a light snow was falling and the street lamps were lighting. Marshall paid the cabby and they got out, the snow muffling everything around them.
They walked along, snow falling in Coral’s hair and flushing her cheeks. They talked and laughed and were just happy to be around one another.
“I’ve really enjoyed this Marshall, it’s been a nice, a nice trip, nice week, nice company. It’s all been.”
“Nice, yeah, I know.”
“You ever take Hailie to the zoo here?” Coral asked.
“Yeah, she loved it, it’s a beautiful place. You should see it in the spring, it’s something.” Marshall was hesitating about something.
“You know, the other day, when you were talking about those paintings and my music,” he asked.
“Yeah?”
“Well, it kinda reminded me, you know of that picture you have on your wall. Just talking about art and stuff, it just kinda led me to thinking.”
“Really? Thinking about what?” He took her by the hand and led her down one of the paths that broke off from the one they were on.
“All right, close your eyes, and just hold my hand,” Marshall said after a minute. She laughed slightly.
“What, why?”
“Just do it!” he said eagerly. She didn’t question it but closed her eyes. He led her down a few more paths and then they stopped.
“All right, now open your eyes.” Coral slowly opened her eyes when she saw what was in front of her, she put a hand to her heart.
“You found it, oh my god, you found it,” she breathed.
“When I had the picture framed I had them make a copy. It got passed around and finally they found the artist that did it. I called him up and asked him where he took the photo, and here it is.” Marshall explained.
“It’s perfect, it’s exactly as I always thought it would be, the snow falling, the trees, the lights. Thank you, it’s the most wonderful thing anyone has done for me, ever,” she turned to him, her eyes moist, ready to cry.
“Don’t say that just yet,” he replied, rummaging in his pocket. Finally he found what he was looking for and dropped to one knee.
“Oh my god,” she did cry this time, but laughed as well.
“I don’t really know how to make a proposal sound all romantic, I mean this is me, and I’m not much for pretty words, but I’m gonna try my best to make it as beautiful as you’ve pictured it. What I want to say to you is that, you’ve shown me, how beautiful life can really be. You’ve made my solitude and misery, into a life I actually want to live. One that I want to be a part of and work at. Now I know it’s asking a lot, but I don’t want to go back to that house that is filled with your presence and your laugh, your smile, without you. And I don’t want to go back without knowing that you will be there with me, for the rest of our days and years, spending our time planing a wedding, celebrating Christmases, Birthdays, kids, everything. I don’t want to go back there without knowing you’ll be my fiancee, and later my wife, in that house.” She looked down at him, holding her hand, her heart pounding, her eyes weeping, her body shaking.
“So I guess what I’m saying is, I think we ought to give up on fate, chance and everything else. We should be together, because we want to, and I want to be with you. So, Coral Matthews, will you marry me?”
“With a proposal like that, who could say no?” she asked, laughing, smiling, crying, all at once.
“Then I’ll take that as a yes,” he smiled, pulling the box from his pocket.
“Yeah, it’s a yes.” He stood and opened the box for her and she laughed hardily at the sight.
“It’s as close as native Texas Coral they could find, and worth more than three hundred dollars a week,” Marshall said, removing the platinum band, centered with large smooth piece of bright coral. She laughed again as he held it up.
“So?” he asked.
“Yes Marshall, I will marry you,” she held out her hand and he slipped the ring into place, admiring it for a moment.
“You forgot something,” Coral said after a minute.
“What?”
“You forgot to kiss me.” He nodded, grinned, and the last thing he did, to make it perfect, was to seal his lips against hers, holding her and kissing her as the snow fell around them, the soft lights enveloping the air and illuminating the perfect scene.