by Ani San
‘Have a nice run, miss Nord.’
The porter, Frank, held the door for me as I came downstairs. I had given up trying to make him call me Sara. He was from Kenya, but spoke perfect English, and was always helpful and polite. It felt safe to live in a building with 24hour porter service, though it also felt a bit grand. But Alfred put me in this apartment because it was close to the university and owned by B&B, and I didn’t turn down free lodging in this neighbourhood. I put on my sunglasses and earplugs, and looked up to the clear sky. I was determent to make today a perfect day.
I forgot to text Mary-Ann. After my run, and the afternoon with Alice, I fell asleep on the couch watching some mindless sit-com. Alice had been tiresome, asking about why I left so suddenly and what I thought about Christopher and Andrew. I tried to be evasive, and directed the conversations over to her. I was exhausted
I spent all Sunday painting, trying hard to block out any thoughts of Christopher. Being in my studio always relaxed me and cleared my mind. I hadn’t even thought about Mary-Ann until she called me Monday morning.
‘Sara, I’m still waiting on your answer. Have you made up your mind?’
I had tried not to think about it. I didn’t tell her that.
‘I’m sorry, Mary-Ann. I forgot.’
‘You forgot that a movie star wanted to see your paintings?’ she laughed. I didn’t care to respond.
‘Well, they didn’t. His assistant called me both yesterday and the day before that, to hear your answer. I was told to emphasize that she would join him if that helps. I told her you were still considering. So, can I tell them you agree?’
I hadn’t really decided that. I didn’t understand his angle. What did he want? But I longed to see him again. And if he didn’t come alone, he wouldn’t be such a temptation. It might be ok... I told her yes. But they had to call in advance, to make sure I was here. At least that was the reason I gave Mary-Ann. The truth was I needed to be prepared.
The call came a couple of hours later. A woman called Anna Turner was on the other line asking if they could come the next day, Tuesday, around noon. They gave me less than a day to prepared, so I spent the rest of Monday afternoon cleaning the apartment. Honestly, it wasn’t that much work. I had an ex-boyfriend who taught me to keep things tidy, and the habit stayed. My studio though, was another story. I had paintings everywhere. Some finished and some half painted. Sometimes I get stuck on a piece, so I put it to the side and work on something else until inspiration hits again. I used a couple of hours hiding them and tidying up. Paint bottles, brushes and palettes went into a small closet by the window. I choose which pieces to show him, and stacked the other ones away. Tuesday morning was spent trying to find the right outfit. I must have changes at least five times. It was stupid, I know. But whatever his intentions were, I wanted to look good. The last thing I put on was black pants and a red tunic with wide arms and high neckline. I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to hard. I tried to look professional. I even gathered my hair in a knot and applied light make-up. Nothing over-the-top.
My nerves hit when the caller buzzed. My hand was actually shaking as I pushed the intercom on the living room wall.
‘Yes?’ At least I still had my voice.
‘Miss Nord, you have some visitors. A Mr Petrelli and Miss Turner.’
‘Thank you Frank, please send them up.’
I stood rubbing my hands while waiting for the knock. On the way to the door I glance in the hallway mirror, and pushed back a stray hair. I took a deep breath before opening, only to swallow it as I open the door and saw him. He was even more beautiful than I remembered. I cleared my voice.
‘Mr Petrelli, nice to see you again.’
I meet his eyes, challenging him to say something about our last encounter.
‘Good morning Miss Nord. It’s good to see you again.’
He doesn’t kiss my hand this time, but direct me to the woman beside him. ‘This is my assistant Anna Turner.’
I wasn’t sure I liked Anna. She was smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Anna Turner was a short, middle-aged woman with black hair tied to a hard knot in the back. She was wearing at black skirt and white blouse, and gave a strict impression. Her shake was firm, and she scared me a little. Other than the usual ‘How are you’ phrase, she remained silent and in the background.
‘Would you like something to drink?’ I asked courteously as we moved through the hallway. My mind was counting the limited options I had, and I was smacking myself inside for not buying some lemonade or soda yesterday. It was probably a good thing Christopher turned down the offer.
‘Thank you, that’s not necessary. I am sorry to say we are in some hurry, it seemed I was booked for another meeting today, so we don’t have much time.’ He glanced at Anna, who dropped her eyes toward the floor. Somehow he seemed annoyed with her.
We go trough the living room and straight to the studio. I was kind of nervous to show him the pieces, not quite comfortable with other people assessing my work. My workroom is wall to wall with the kitchen, and is the biggest room in the house besides the living room. Almost the whole inner wall consisted of large windows, but with a boring view against the neighbour apartment block. I usually keep the curtains closed, the big triple light bulb in the ceiling gave me enough light. The floor was covered in brown paper. I didn’t think B&B would appreciate permanent paint stains in their apartment. I had three easels in the room, and paintings both on them and on the floor leaned against them. I let both Christopher and Anna pass me by the door. She goes to a corner and stand there with a notebook in hand, while Christopher walks around, looking at each and every one. He waves me over, pointing at a big blue painting, with a trace of mountain edged, similar to the one he apparently bought.
Some text was written along the line marking the border between rock and ocean. He read it out loud:
‘If you get far enough away you'll be on your way back home. That sounds familiar. Tom Waits?’
‘Yes,’ I said, surprised that he knew that.
‘Is this from the same series?’
I nodded, knowing he was referring to the one at the exhibition.
‘But this has text on it, I don’t think the other one has.’
‘It did, but only one word, and it was in small letters.’
‘Really? I didn’t notice. What did it say?’
‘Origin.’
‘But you named the painting Ice?’
‘Yes, May-Ann insisted we named all our paintings so it is easier to separate them. I found Ice more suitable because it is a cold place.’
I showed him some other paintings with warmer colour. I didn’t want him to think that I only focused on the cold and gloomy. But I realized as he read the text on several other ones that almost all the text had some sort of melancholy. None of them was happy, happy, or sunshine and love. I must seem depressed to him. I wanted to explain that I wasn’t this person, I was happy most of the time. Or at least partly happy. I had baggage like most people. And the painting gave me an opportunity to ventilate. But I didn’t tell him any of this. He wasn’t here to hear about me. He was here to look at my art. Like it mattered. He kept me by his side as we talk about every painting in the room. I was about to explain the last one as Anna coughed and made us both turn. She looks at Christopher and pointed discreetly to her watch. He ignored her and turned towards the painting again.
‘I like this one. In fact, I like several of these. But I wonder, do you do commission paintings?’
‘I don’t know. What did you have in mind?’ I asked. I could paint just about anything, even portraits and landscape, but I was most comfortable painting abstract. I liked putting emotions in the painting instead of just what the eyes see.
‘I have a room that is in desperate need of a centrepiece.’ He held my gaze, and I couldn’t look away. ‘Is that something you do?’
‘I might. It depends on what you want.’ Did he get the double meaning? His crocked smile said that h
e probably did. Anna coughs again from her corner, but neither of us bothered to turn.
‘You could paint in the same style, I like your work. But I would like you to paint the picture while in the room, to make it fit right in.’
‘In your room?’
‘Yes’
‘At your house?’
‘Yes’
‘I don’t know. I have never done that before.’
‘Well. Why don’t you think about it and give me a call. Anna, would you please give Sara my number.’
She gives me a note as we exit the room.
‘It was nice to meet you. Goodbye, Miss Nord.’
Anna extends her hand and I grab it lightly before letting go. I was about to do the same towards Christopher, but he leaned against Anna and whispered some words. She glanced at me, and she didn’t look happy as she exited the door. Christopher was still inside as the door closed. Suddenly the hallway seemed too small. The atmosphere changed. He was standing to close. I could smell him, and the scent was even better than I remembered. It was intoxicating. He put his arm on mine, and an electric pulse rushes through my body. I take a step backwards, not thrusting myself near him.
‘Wait. I just have to say something.’ He comes closer again. His fingers interlocked with mine. They felt warm.
‘I would like to apologize for what happened during the exhibition. I didn’t mean to come on so strong. I shouldn’t have…’ His voice trails off as his eyes flicker, and suddenly fixating on something behind me. I was too dazed to say something. His touch made my body quiver, sending heat all over. I tried to move my hand away when he snaps out of it. My movement makes him come even closer.
‘I’m sorry. I… shouldn’t have kissed you.’
‘No, you shouldn’t.’ I could barley hear my own voice. And while I said the words, my eyes flicker to his lips, begging them to kiss me again. He was so close that I could feel his breath against my skin. I lift my chin and bite my lip, silently pleading him. I knew it was stupid, irresponsible and undignified, but I didn’t believe he was here because of the paintings. And all I care about now was that I wanted him. My body wanted him. He leaned closer, letting his lips trace my forehead, and I could feel him inhaling me. I lift my chin, and his lips trailed downwards, closer to the mouth. Just before reaching it, he sighs and steps back. It was agonising. I had never been so disappointed in my life. Well, of course I had, but it didn’t feel like it now.
‘Oh god!’ he exhaled. ‘I apologize again. I have problem restraining myself when I’m near you. Sometimes I think you have spellbound me. Like when you didn’t agree to me coming at first. I was going mad. I am used to go for the things I want, and I’m used to getting it. I needed to see you. To see if you were as magnificent as I remembered. And here I am, unable to keep my hands off you. I’m sorry…’ his words trail off as I held up my hands to stop his tirade. What he said didn’t make sense, and didn’t sound real. And it didn’t do me any good to hear them. I was going to have enough agony as it was when he left.
‘I think Anna is waiting for you,’ is all I manage to say.
He stepped away from me, towards the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, about to say something. Then he changed his mind, and turned to leave.
I hadn’t known I was holding my breath until I exhaled, leaning against the back of the door. My mind tried to contemplate what just happened. Is he insane? This is twice now that he keeps seducing me. Me! Ok, maybe I was begging for it, but still. Me! And I hadn’t forgotten about the wife. I should be ashamed of myself. I tried to be. But then I remembered the taste of him, and the shame didn’t stand a chance. I wanted him. I didn’t care that he belonged to anyone else. If I could have him, I wasn’t strong enough to say no. But this whole thing was surreal. I had seen his wife. And I could see myself in the hallway mirror. It wasn’t a contest. I’m a nobody. A nobody who wanted him. He is not yours to have, I try to argue myself. It didn’t help. I didn’t care.
My body sunk to the floor, and I stayed there revisiting the last few minutes. I tried not to focus on the almost-kiss. He started with an apology. That was a waste of time… My eyes focus on the wall in front of me. Why did he stop in the middle of a sentence? Alongside the mirror hang a message board. It wasn’t much on it, besides my mantra ‘Make it Work’, a postcard from Norway, and the invitation to Kiro’s party. That reminded me. Kiro was throwing a costume party on Friday, and I still didn’t have an outfit. I went to get my phone, to call Alice and ask if she would help me. I was desperate need for some distraction.
Chapter 3
«Go to heaven for the climate and hell for the company.»
- Mark Twain
Lara Croft entered the party following a female version of Obi-Wan Kenobi. I was wearing a black tank top and some shorts that were way too short. A belt of sculls was locked around my waste. I had a gun strapped around my left thigh and a knife around my right. Black leather boots went up to my knees. The hair was firmly braided, and my make-up was dark. It was over-the-top. Alice had taken me to a costume store not far from Leicester Square. The shop sign had said the store had 35,000 costumes on storage, too much to choose from. Everything I tried on looked too stupid, too big, or too unflattering. I didn’t like costumes. It was Alice that insisted on the Tomb Raider outfit, after an hour of trying different things. It looked fine in the store. Now, I felt a little naked, especially after handing over my jacket by the entrance.
We were fashionably late, and the party was on the roll. I saw Fred Flintstone hitting on Catwoman just inside the double doors. I recognised both of them, and hoped Tina would get of her high horse and give Matthew a chance. She has been stringing him along all semester. Further in, I saw Cleopatra, some action heroes, a bug, and several not so original Scream masks. People were rallying by a large square red bar, and ordering something took forever. I let Alice in the front, she was much better at getting the bartenders attention than I was. She got us two beers each, and led us to a table by the dance floor.
Kiro had rented the basement of Metro Bar. The place was dark, with walls, chairs and floor all in black. The only colour in the room came from the disco lights, and the red bar. And the costumes of course, though most of them were black as well. A beautiful white angel stood out on the dance floor, and I felt envious of her long, curly blond hair. It looked natural. Alice had tried to convince me to dye my hair black for the evening, but I declined. My chestnut hair stayed the same. The costume was enough.
Mark and Una joined us at the table, dressed like two hippies from the worst flower power era. They quickly started the discussion most from my class were having. What to do over the summer. Most of them were moving out of the city, to where they came from, or to a place of work. Some were moving back to their parents to save money while searching for a job to support the art. I rarely contributed to these conversations. I had no idea what to do. My two-year plan was coming to an end. My degree held no importance, it was just an escape route. I had enough money to stay if I wanted to. But that meant finding a new apartment in London. My deal with B&B was almost up. Alice was the niece of Alfred, but she didn’t know why he took care for me. She had asked one time, and I had told her the truth, that he helped me with my finances. Then she wonder where the money came from, kind of a rude question coming from a British person. I told her I had a rich father, something that confused her, because she thought I was an orphan. ‘I kind of am,’ I told her, and closed the subject. This was over a year ago, and every time after that, whenever she tried to revisit the subject, I side-tracked her. She was my best friend, but I couldn’t tell her my whole story.
The place was filling with people. I think Kiro had invited 30-40 persons, both friends and fellow students. I wave my hand to several I recognize. The DJ was playing the newest dance tracks, and made me want to move. I had finished both my beers, and was feeling restless. I interrupted the I want to stay, but I have to go-discussion and told Alice I was going dancing. She looked ki
nd of startled, I was usually not the one to shake loose without a push. But I was afraid to start pondering the last days’ events, and needed to stay busy. Besides, the two last beers on top of the three back at the apartment made me feel woozy. Maybe I should stop before I started babbling about my new crush.
Alice joined me on the dance floor, and we had fun moving to the beats. I closed my eyes and let my body follow the rhythm. Moving to the music felt so easy and comforting. I felt liberated. It might be the beer. It made me fly. It made me carefree. I was in a world of my own until Alice knocked me back to earth.
‘I need a break,’ she said, clearly out of breath. She leaves the floor, and I was about to follow her when a man blocked my way. He was wearing a white leather suit and a matching helmet. He reminded me of The Stig, the guy who test cars on Top Gear. It might as well be him, it’s impossible to tell, his visor was like a mirror. I could only see my own face when trying to see his.
‘Excuse me,’ I uttered, and started to move around him. But he counteracts me, and I take a step backwards in surprise.
He took my hand in his gloved one and points to the other people on the floor. I assumed he was asking me to dance with him. I stared him down from head to toe before shaking my head. He couldn’t possible move in that.
‘I’m sorry, I not looking for a blind date,’ I said, and pulled my arm back. Then I ducked under his other arm to go back to my friends.
I didn’t see the other one before I reached the table. He was wearing the same, but in all black. Kiro was sitting next to him, holding a beer and pushing a straw under the helmet. The guy was trying to drink without taking of the helmet or opening the visor. Una and Alice were almost at the floor laughing. It was funny in a stupid way. What were they thinking showing up like that? I decided against joining them, and turned around to the bar instead. The crowd had spread out, and I got a beer straight away. Steven came standing next to me, dressed like James Bond. He studied photography at my school, and we belonged to the same lunch crowd. He had asked me out a couple of times in the beginning, but I never felt compelled to go out with him. He got the picture eventually, and moved on without a backward glance. Besides, he wasn’t a one-woman-guy. We remained friends, though, and I learned to take his flirty tone as a part of him. I liked him.
