A Work of Fiction - Chapter II
Here's Chapter II of my short story. If you missed Chapter I, click here.
Chapter II
Wrapping the towel around his waist, Lawrence
left the bathroom and stood in front of the phone and answering machine. The
red light beaming, taunting him, was almost hypnotic. Divided between the urge
of listening to her voice again and the sharp pain he was already feeling in
his stomach, he decided not to press the button. He would be better off
oblivious. He threw on an old t-shirt and jeans and left the cottage to the
silent exterior. The lake stood still under the dim moonlight. It was just him
and the nocturnal animals, he was safe. He walked the small distance to the old
wood garage that he had converted into his painting studio and went in. The
room smelled and looked comfortingly like he had left it the day before. His
instincts drove him there, to the only place where it was safe for him to
express the wave of feelings bursting inside. The first stroke of black paint
on the white canvas was like a weight coming off his shoulders. He felt
instantly relaxed and kept on painting by feeling, without thinking or
analyzing what he was doing. One hour later, he saw her face in front of him.
“Marina…” He could paint her in every way possible just by closing his eyes and
remembering. All the little details, shape and colour of her body, were engraved
in his memory forever and not even time would erase them. He had painted her so
many times before, on that very same room, but with her lying on the floor, or
curled up in the old velvet chair, naked or not but always smiling, laughing
and teasing him. She was his muse, for better or for worse, and so he kept on
painting her and his impression of her long after she left. As an artist he was
painfully aware his best work was from his darkest times. The inspiration he
drank from his sadness and depression would translate into beautiful, sometimes
very gloomy, compositions that were incomparably better, richer and deeper.
There was only one exception and that was, of course, his “Marina period” like
his agent liked to call. She gave him a new horizon, a new way of looking and
experience life that enriched his art. They would talk for hours about it and
with her he discovered new movements and new ways of expressing what he felt.
He knew she had broadened his concepts and was largely responsible for his
evolution and success as a painter; one more reason why he was unable to let
her go.
Seating on an old bench, he looked at the
canvas and at her face and remembered, like so many times before, the day they
had met. The day his life changed forever. Marina was an art dealer working for
different galleries and private clients. Known for her eye and ability to find
new talents, she would spend a lot of her time visiting the studios of young
artists and art students. That’s how they met. In a very cliché way, she came
to his studio to see his work only to leave it with him to have dinner 5 hours
later. Their relationship began almost immediately. There was no dating period,
no conversation to go steady, it had been a natural click and on both their
minds there was no doubt they belonged together. She was his number one fan and
truly believing in his talent, she had organized an exhibition that launched
his career making him the next big thing. They were the perfect couple until
they weren't, until she decided to leave on that spring morning. “Marina…”
Stay tuned for Chapter III...
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