Seine or Insane

     Tiffany heard the repeated F - bombs exploding all around her - almost one hundred times in rapid succession like a fireworks finale - and was somewhat shocked to realize that she was the guilty culprit of these epitaphs usually foreign to her own vocabulary. She clapped her hand over her mouth to physically muffle the sound since she couldn't force her brain to make the outburst stop. When she finally wrestled control of herself, she smiled ruefully and wondered what the punishment would be if her mother was witness to this display of verbal cluster bombs. " Soap in her mouth ? " "No dinner ? " No, probably that look of disappointment that seemed to inflict the most damage and the promise of at least a week's grounding would be her sentence. Her mother was a gentle creature and " Jesus, Mary, and Joseph " was the worst phrase Tiffany ever remembered her using - and that was a rare occurrence. Luckily, Mom wasn't in Tiffany's situation or present to hear her reaction to this impossible difficulty. The punishment aspect wouldn't be brought to fruition - Tiffany was about twelve years beyond the age that those threats influenced her behavior. Instead, she chanted her Mother's most powerful incantation of " Jesus, Mary, and Joseph " in a whisper that was a cross between a salty sailor's outburst and a prayerful appeal to this trio. She forced herself to focus and concentrate how she had gotten into this mess - and how she could extricate herself from it.

            Tiffany was almost a polar opposite of her mother in many respects and resembled her more outgoing and bolder father. She received the dreaded look of disappointment from Mom when she came home with a few streaks of purple in her dirty-blonde hair and a Sunflower tattoo on her left shoulder - shortly after her eighteenth birthday. Tiffany thought she had paved the ground for these changes by mentioning beforehand she was going to do this, but Mom cried shocked tears anyway. She asked, " What are people going to think when you're ninety years old and have a saggy flower on your arm ? " Tiffany replied, " They'll probably have more ink than me. " Dad silently nodded agreement while not looking up from his tablet. The purple streaks were now green and she was considering expanding her skin decoration with a butterfly tattoo on her back. She did share a special hobby with her mother, though. They both loved antiques and liked to forage together and separately for as yet undiscovered treasure. Tiffany had been named for the beautiful blue and red rose stained glass window that graced Saint Peter's Church on State Street in Albany. Her mother declared that her Tiffany and the Church Tiffany were the most beautiful things she had ever seen. This thrill of the hunt provided trophies for Tiffany's Washington Park apartment and merchandise to sell for her booth in Hudson. She had a taste for the funkier , modern and weirder things than the items her mother trained her to look for in their tramping about the countryside, but she could appreciate the classics as well. This addiction to the chase of beauty and the lure of the big payday caused her to forgo an invite from co - worker Adam for a third date. Tiffany wasn't sure if Adam was worthy enough to start hauling around to auctions - yet she briefly considered he might come in handy lifting anything heavy. Friday was a wild - looking day - hazy with smoke from the Canadian wildfires and a full moon to boot. She seemed to have better luck in strange settings and decided to fly solo in going to the country auction in Schuylerville. They auctioned antiques on Friday and livestock on Saturdays. Like Forrest Gump's chocolates, you never could tell what you'd get. She bolted from work after quitting time and slogged her way through the northbound Friday traffic on the Northway to exit 14 , then took Route 29 to Route 32 to Schuylerville. She decided against calling her parents - she didn't want to compete with Mom or be talked out of buying something she wanted. She arrived at the auction barn around 5 - almost enough time to preview decently before the 6 starting time.

            Tiffany was astounded by the amount of vehicles - many of them pick - up trucks - that filled the dirt parking lot. She couldn't remember having to park so far away from the barn and in a spot she hopefully wouldn't get her Rav 4 stuck in the soggy turf. The out of the way spot did afford her the privacy to slip off her black pencil skirt and heels to swap for a pair of denim Daisy - Dukes and a pair of sandals. It was beastly hot and she wanted to preview in comfort. She was greeted with friendly shout - outs of     "Tiffany !! " or " Hey Tiff !! " from many of the attendees who were fellow travelers in the auction , estate sale or show circuit. She " high-fived " many of her acquaintances on her way to the preview stage. She believed in being friendly with her potential competitors, while her mother talked to no one. She greeted all - rich, poor, young, old, handsome, homely, and everyone across the political spectrum. Tiffany put her game face on and started pawing through the assorted offerings - the good, bad and ugly. As she wound her way around the stage, the lighting bolt and tingling sensation struck when she came across something great. The painting was propped up against the fold - down table, almost as an afterthought. She grabbed her weapons of choice from her bag - her jeweler's loupe and black light - as she zoomed in for a better look. 

         The painting was large - about 3' x 5' - and looked very similar to the famous French neo - impressionist painting by Georges Seurat entitled, " A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of LA Grande Jatte. She studied this painting , which was started in 1884 and completed in 1886 , in her art appreciation class at SUNY @ Albany. It featured Parisians dressed in Victorian clothing - many carrying parasols - relaxing in a park by the Seine just outside Paris participating in various activities on a Sunday afternoon. Forty-eight people - men, women, and children, three dogs, eight boats and a monkey on a leash were painted in various positions and were picnicking, boating, fishing, and just enjoying the scenery. She remembered it was painted in the pointillist style using miniature dots and brushstrokes to make the colors more vivid. The gaps in her memory bank were filled in when she discreetly looked at her phone and saw the original was much larger. It perhaps represented a repressive society with the rigidity of the figures, possibly depicted prostitution with women fishing by water, and had a painted white frame. She discovered that many studies had been painted before the final version was completed. Tiffany went back to her examination and determined this was a well - executed painting from the late 1800s, that it wasn't touched - up or signed, and the gilt Newcomb - Macklin frame alone was worth about $1500. It would likely be another artist of the period copying Seurat's work or the less - probable chance it was a study by Seurat himself. Tiffany felt an almost unhealthy and proprietary attraction to the piece and had no interest in continuing her preview of the other items for sale. She reluctantly left to find a crowded seat and hoped her competitors hadn't observed her fawning over this treasure and would be tempted to out - bid her. Of course this large sweaty crowd was all here because of the painting, she figured. How much would she have to pay ? Who would take it away from her? These were the two questions that were floating around in her brain as she played a quick game of Scrabble on her phone, waiting for the bloodbath to begin. 

         After things got started and about an hour into the action, she had a knot in her stomach from anxiety and impatience from the brutal, slow- paced selling of the items. Paintings on velvet, ugly lamps, cheap furniture and other mind - numbing items were hammered down and sold by the auctioneer - whom she called Mister M. Finally, Mister M announced, " We're going to sell what everyone is here for !! " The crowd broke into thunderous applause and Tiffany clutched her bid card - number 202 - tighter. She had a pleasant shock of surprise when the large blue pick - up truck was offered up. She had barely noticed it , but it was described as a low -mileage 2022 Ford F-150 Lightning Lariat with many bells and whistles that sold for over $70000 new. Mister M started the bidding at $15000 - with somebody taking the bait - and continued up with only $20 increments, with him progressively getting more sweaty, hoarse, and red - faced during the process. When he hit the $25000 mark, she grew alarmed he was going to hurl or keel over. He soldiered through until the competing bidders mercifully stopped at $39500 and the audience gave a standing ovation. The barn suddenly emptied out of most of the disappointed bidders, but Tiffany grew concerned when Mister M sat in the front row, gulped down water and was fanned by his wife. All she needed was for him to have a heart attack and the auction would come to an abrupt end without her prize being offered up. She felt a guilty pang about being less concerned about his welfare than her obsession . To her relief, he seemed to be okay and he waved away the worried with a " thumbs up " and let his son Rusty take over the sale. " I'm just like Gollum with his Precious, " she said with a soft rueful chuckle when she saw the auction would continue. Just then, Johnny the auction - runner walked in front of her. She grabbed his arm, whispered in his ear, and slipped a $20 into his hand. He nodded and walked over to the painting. He held it up for bid after two other things were sold . To her utter disbelief and astonishment, nobody else stuck their hand in the air after Rusty took her opening bid of $100. She danced on her tiptoes in anticipation as Johnny brought the treasure over to her. They both received a shock of static electricity as the painting changed hands. They laughed and Tiffany hurriedly made her way to the check - out. She forked over $110 for the painting and buyer's premium. The parking lot had greatly emptied and the Strawberry Moon was peeking out of the smoky sky. Tiffany lowered her back seats and carefully balanced the painting - which took up most of the space - on a packing blanket. She was in a euphoric mood and barely remembered the drive home to State Street - one hand on the wheel and the other on the painting.  

         Street parking was ample and Tiffany was very careful when she extracted the work of art from the back of her vehicle. She locked the car and lugged all her items to the apartment and unlocked the front door. Moose, her tiger - striped cat, meowed a greeting that was friendly but reproachful while she wrapped herself around Tiffany 's legs. Moose had been left extra dry food but was " hangry " for the wet stuff. Tiffany set the painting down in the living room, locked the front door and prepared a plate of Moose's favorite smelly meal. She set the dish down for the ravenous cat, giving her a few pets as she did so, and looked lovingly at her diminutive feline. She had gotten her at a barn sale about a year ago. There hadn't been anything worth buying, but the farmer pushed the idea of her taking a kitten from the litter of eight. Moose was the runt but marched right over for her to pet. He said, " She doesn't do that with everyone - you better take her home. Her mother is the best mouser I ever had. " Tiffany couldn't resist and hoped Moose wouldn't be catching any rodents. She had been tempted a few times to give her to her sister Violet, though. Moose attacked a couple of plates, vases, and a Steiff stuffed bear on separate occasions. She inherited her mother's love of the hunt but only had a few opportunities for a passing insect . Tiffany grabbed an apple from the bowl and the pair ate their communal supper. She remembered the painting and she went back in the living room and lay in front of it to study it better. She fell asleep on the floor, bone- tired from the day's exertions. 

            Tiffany woke up five hours later with a dull headache. She had a series of bad, weird dreams in which she couldn't rouse herself enough to waken, like a drowning swimmer attempting to surface. The first one was of herself at the auction downing a "Drink Me Bottle " like the heroine in " Alice's Adventures in Wonderland ", by Lewis Carroll. She was shrunk to a few inches in size. The second was the sensation of being pushed through a tiny opening. The feeling was probably not unlike the experience a baby would feel as it's pushed through the birth canal. As her eyes opened and adjusted to the dimly - lit room, she realized that she wasn't lying in front of the painting as she remembered. As she looked around, the unspeakable horror dawned on her that she was looking at her living room from the vantage point of the painting. Worse yet, looking at the figures and scenery all around her, she discovered that she was now trapped in the painting. This is when her F - bombs started flying fast and furious. 

              Tiffany alternately yelled for help, punched the air, and tried to walk out of the side of the painting, to no avail. She looked to see if her actions prompted any movement or reaction from the figures. They were as motionless and devoid of expression as when she viewed them from the outside. She repeated her efforts of walking all around the painted park, looking for any opening. She didn't dare go in the water, though. She wasn't a good swimmer and wasn't sure if she would dissolve since she was part of the painting. She sat down, exhausted, on the empty blanket in front of the couple with a parasol and monkey on a leash. Two dogs and a man with an orange sleeveless shirt and blue cap were in her immediate vicinity. She pulled her knees to her chest, closed her eyes and sobbed for a long time. She felt the sudden, sharp stab on her Sunflower tattoo and piercing needles on both her calves. With horror, shock and pain she saw that the leashed monkey had jumped on her shoulder and took a big bite. The two brown dogs had torn into her legs with their sharp teeth. She almost fainted at the sight of her own blood. These attacks stopped as suddenly as they started because a crowd of the painting figures gathered around her and started hitting her with their parasols. They were yelling, " Tuer " and " Putain " . Tiffany had taken Spanish and didn't understand French, but she knew it wasn't good. She sunk into a state of helplessness when she was grabbed by the mob and lifted into the air. She was crowd - surfed to the lake with chants growing louder and angrier. The paint was starting to crack on their faces due to their extreme hatred and agitation. She thought of her parents, Violet and Moose as she resigned herself to her fate. Just as they lowered and prepared to throw her in the water, the figure in the orange shirt jumped between her and the horde as a shield and yelled, " Arre'te !! " The crowd was shocked into sudden silence and inaction. Then there was a great ripping noise coming from the left side of the painting. Moose, with green eyes blazing and tail twitching, had sunk her claws into a spot a few inches away from Tiffany. Tiff's quick instincts kicked in and she dove through one of the two puncture marks, with Orange Shirt right behind her. She found herself standing in her living room - restored to her human self but bitten and bleeding. Her French protector in his newly human form said, " Hello, I am Claude, " in broken English and French. Suddenly, two of the women with parasols - one dressed in orange and one in black - had started to crawl out of the openings. Moose reached in and speared the pair with her sharp talons and devoured them before they could get all the way through. There were horrible shrieks and crunching noises that Tiffany would never forget. However, that powerful message and Moose's presence guarding the holes sent the rest of the figures in rapid retreat to the far corner of the park. They huddled together in a frightened mass as Tiffany patched the two claw marks with duct tape. Claude helped her shrink - wrap the masterpiece and helped carry it to the car to lock up for safekeeping.  

           Tiffany and Claude sat on the stoop across from Washington Park and watched the sun rise through the foggy haze of the wild - fire air. They stayed in the apartment only long enough for Tiffany to attend to her wounds and call her parents in order to drive her to Albany Medical Center. She hadn't told them what had happened, only that she was okay but needed medical attention. Tiffany hadn't a clue what kinds of examinations or interrogations the future held, but it would be far preferable than the nightmare she had just experienced. Surely, more information about this sinister copy of the wonderous painting would be forthcoming. She mused about the therapy she'd likely need. Claude held her hand and looked intently in her eyes as he murmured, " Mon ami, Mon ami", as Moose purred loudly in the blanket on Tiffany's lap.