Chapter 14

    Anna looked up at the middle-aged man as he introduced himself.  He didn't look like your typical artist, lanky and dressed in all black. Instead, the artist was dressed in a light blue polo and black tailored pants; With his graying blond hair gelled back, he looked more like a corporate worker than the artist she expected. His height was imposing but his somewhat paunchy build made him look less intimidating. 

   After they made introductions, he led them into his apartment, in brief, confident strides. His home looked nothing like she had envisioned. She had expected a very extravagant place, but the apartment was cool and understated.   She kept on thinking about his familiarity and couldn't help but blurt out the question that had been plaguing her mind since they arrived.

     "I'm sorry, but have we met before?" She asked as he offered them both a glass of white wine. She rejected the wine in favor of water.

     He smiled at her question before shaking his head, "I don't think so, but since we are all in the same industry it's possible that we might have met before."

     That seemed more likely, Anna thought, setting the thought aside to focus on the task at hand. They made it round the studio, viewing the pieces he had put together to be displayed. They talked about style and setting while Anna measured some of the artworks.

    They discussed which pieces would be at the entrance and the ones that would be placed as centerpieces, market demands, and most importantly budget. All through their discussion, Ara took measurements of the proposed artworks and checked the state of the art pieces.

    Anna thoroughly enjoyed the company of the old man, his witty comments and dark humor proved to be entertaining and she found herself laughing, quite loudly she might add, with the older man.

    They had joked around while they worked making the atmosphere much lighter than she had anticipated. He even offered to draw a portrait of her or at least a lazy sketch. She had kindly rejected of course. While she was considered pretty, some people even going as far as calling her a natural beauty, she couldn't tag herself model worthy. Her short stature and wide hips could attest to that.

   They continued to work and when her bladder couldn't take the pressure anymore, she asked for direction for the restroom.

   "The first door by the left."

    After relieving herself, she made her way back to the makeshift studio. In her haste to get to the bathroom, she didn't notice the beautiful paintings decorating the hallway. Most of the paintings were dark and soulful. Just by looking at them, she could tell that the artist was trying to convey love, loss, and yearning.

    Out of all the paintings that were arranged in the hallway, the one that caught her eye stood to be the most magnificent of them all. It was simple, but nonetheless stunning.

    The painting, a contemporary styled portrait, was of a young pregnant woman. With an enchanting smile, Anna could easily say that the young woman is one of the most graceful women she has seen.

     The model was seated on a tall stool, with one of her hands wrapped around her large stomach, the other covering her bare breasts. Her eyes were covered with a white blindfold and a halo surrounded her. Arms outstretched in a beckoning sign, the dark-haired woman was grinning. Anna noticed that Arthur paid attention to fine details, because of the small, almost inconspicuous mole that was at the side of the model's mouth.

    Anna was so caught up with the painting that she didn't notice that Arthur stood beside her.

   "Beautiful isn't she?" She was startled by the sound of his voice.

    Anna noted that he referred to the model and not the painting by his question. She could tell that this model meant more than a muse for this artist, it wasn't her place to ask so she stifled her interest and replied. "She is."

    They stood side by side, Anna basking in the beauty of the painting, and the artist mulling over his thoughts. No words were spoken for a while before they moved to the next painting.

   It was of the same young woman, this time cradling a young boy in an abstract painting. The woman was crouched in front of the boy, her long shiny black hair spilled over him. While you could barely see the boy's face, his posture was that of someone in physical pain. Which led her to believe that perhaps the mother was trying to absorb or shield the boy from the pain he was experiencing.

    While the former painting was in soft hues, this one was more vibrant. The boy was painted in hues of blues and greys, his essence seemed to diminish. Whereas his mother in more vibrant colors. The painting reflected love and pain. Her breath hitched at the magnitude of emotions portrayed by the artist which she assumed was Arthur because it held his peculiar signature.

     As the art enthusiast she was, Anna wanted to know the story behind the painting and she was itching to ask Arthur. She barely knew him and so, it wasn't her place to ask. They went back to work in a somber mood. 

...............
 

  Anna tightened the sash of her robe. She had barely stepped out of the shower when her friend called her. She laughed at her friend's tales, being a wedding planner was way more entertaining than her job. Nicole was telling her about the celebrity wedding she had organized recently.

   "The mother in law threw a fit on the freaking wedding day because of flowers, she hates lavender flowers. She insisted on getting yellow flowers because supposedly lavender is dark and sad, like how the fuck is lavender sad?"

   "Seriously, " Anna laughed.

   "I hate lavender flowers," Nicole mimicked the woman in a nasal tone, "at that point the bride got hysterical, if not for tactical soothing by yours truly, the wedding would have been a big disaster."

  "How did you get the yellow flowers since it was too late?"

   "Bribe of course," Anna could hear the smug satisfaction from her friend's tone.

   "So you bribed the hotel to get you yellow flowers?"

    Nicole hiccupped. "Exactly, and when the flowers came, we had to arrange the flowers at the entrance of the hall. The mother-in-law was happy and most importantly, the bride was happy."

     Anna laid down on her bed and stared at her ceiling, relishing the feel of her freshly laundered sheets. "Wait, are you drunk?"

    Nicole sighed, "Not yet, but I'm halfway there though. I wish you were here, with me. Getting drunk and eating chocolates like we usually do."

    Anna shared her friend's sentiment, their college years had been the highlights of her life. They lived like it was their last days but studied when they had to. The girls had spent most Saturday evenings together, drinking and having fun. She hadn't thought about this in a long time.

    "I wish I was there too, but even if I was there you know I wouldn't get drunk with you."

   "Oh yeah, I forgot about the baby," Nicole said sounding hesitant, "actually, I have a confession to make."

    That made Anna sit upright. "I'm listening."

    She took a deep breath, "I'm kinda seeing someone."

   Anna laughed, "since when?"

  "Shortly before you came to see me, but it wasn't serious then."

   "So it's serious now?"

    "Maybe? I don't know. I feel like he's more serious about us than I am, you know?"

   Anna murmured her consent.

   "I know I like Drew, but I feel bad- I don't know how to explain it." Anna was beginning to put two and two together.

    "Why do you feel bad honey?"

     In a small voice, she whispered, "I feel like I'm disrespecting Ray."

     Anna heaved a sigh, "It's been five years Nicky, I doubt Ray would want you to be single forever, and don't forget your promise."

   "I haven't forgotten it, but it's hard, you know? I try every freaking day to act like he never existed, but it's harder than it seems. Some days it's easier, but other days I can feel like I'm drowning in constant sorrow. I still dream of him sometimes," her voice cracked.

   She didn't know her friend was feeling this way and it saddened her that Nicole was going through this alone. Five years ago the love of Nicole's life died and he died with a piece of her. Anna had been there to support her friend and lend her a shoulder to cry on. It hurt her to know that her friend was not as happy as she feigned to be.

     Ray had lost his life shortly after his one-year anniversary with Nicole. He was proclaimed dead after battling with brain aneurysm. One week after his first aneurysm, he had another and this time, Ray did not survive. The one week he spent fighting for his life, in between semi-consciousness, Ray had insisted Nicole make him a promise. To live her life like he never existed.

    Nicole, intent on making his recovery as smooth as possible, was hesitant to agree. The doctors had been optimistic about his recovery and his death come as a shock to all.

   "You remember last month when you came to visit me. How I broke down on his anniversary? Well, it was because I forgot. I forgot about him. On the one day I have permission to mourn him as hard as I need, I forgot. Why did he have to die, Anna? It's been five years, but it still feels like yesterday."

   Anna tried to cut in but was silenced by her grieving friend.

    "I don't want you to say anything, I've heard everything already. I just want you to listen to me." She needed a shoulder to cry on and Anna could give her that. She understood that sometimes all you needed was someone to be there for you.

     So she listened as her drunk friend broke down on the phone. They cried together, Anna blamed her tears on hormones. And after their tears were exhausted, they began to remise about the good times. Anna dropped the call only when she was sure her friend was asleep.

    After her call, she made her way to her kitchen, her appetite raging, she was craving peanut butter and onions, anything that had onions would do. Her doorbell rang, startling her. She wasn't expecting anyone, she checked her phone for any missed calls or messages alerting to the arrival of her visitor. She found none. Perhaps the visitor wanted to surprise her. It was a Sunday evening, albeit not too late to have visitors. The door rang for the second time.

     She looked at her attire, at least she looked decent, although her brown locks were still damp, she was properly dressed. She darted to open the door and was shocked but pleasantly surprised to see the broad-shouldered male occupying her doorway.