I see a red wine glass and a long wooden table. Surrounded by four white walls and a mass of Finnish artists, I pour large glasses of pinot noir and hand them to the gallery's patrons. I am bartender for the night, standing in front of Pentti Sammallahti's best work pretending that I'm not nervous and that yes, of course I've been working at the gallery for more than three days.

 A tall man in brown leather loafers walks up to me holding a glass, and asks for another round. He points to the piece behind me, Sammallahti's 1994 photograph "Two Dogs Kissing," and asks me to tell him more. My voice stutters, unsure of how to begin discussing the piece. I look around frantically for my boss, knowing Todd would have the perfect thing to say. Unable to see him, my blue eyes meet the patron's and I comb my brain for all the information I remember about the piece and its artist. My voice begins, and the conversation flows.

Discussing the humor in the Finnish photographer's work, me and the man in the leather shoes laugh loudly and he tells me he wants to buy the photograph. I shake his hand and lead him to gallery manager, telling him the piece will look fantastic next to his Sage Sohier. Todd walks up behind me and swings his arm around my neck, "Way to go kid," he whispers into my ear so leather shoes won't hear. "Let's sell another one, okay?"

As the clock ticks forward and the sun sets over the Willamette River, I talk to photographers, lawyers, members of the Portland City Council, asking about their lives and their children, while leading them over to various works to discuss the juxtaposition, the humor, the beauty of each work. My voice grows stronger with each conversation, and I learn from the patrons, listening to their opinions, their knowledge, and I examine the pieces in new ways through each conversation. At the end of the night, the wine bottles were empty, eight pieces were sold, and I carved a place for myself in a gallery that I originally felt so intimidated by. 

Putting my coat on at the end of the night, I wipe my eyes and reapply my lipstick, grabbing my stuff to go. Todd saunters over to me holding his reciepts and smiles: "There's another event next week, you're going to be there." I smile and nod, "Okay, Todd. I'd love to."