Page 58 of Forbidden

“You knew who I was?”

“Of course I know you, my dear. I’ve heard so much about you and I’ve seen his work.” His face turned serious. “Now work. Work first, see later.”

I unboxed all the artwork and lined them up against the wall in the back room. I had hoped to get a glimpse of something of Shane’s, but Dmitri must have been expecting me because none of the paintings I unboxed belonged to Shane.

Walking out of the back room, I noticed the sun was already setting. I didn’t realize how long I had been there. It must have been hours.

Shit, the meter!

I looked through my bag for quarters to feed the meter, hoping I didn’t get a ticket. With a handful of change in my hand, I walked towards the front door but was stopped by Dmitri.

“You’re not done,” he said.

“But my car.”

“It’s taken care of. Come with me, Princess Rosalie.”

I laughed hearing this large man, a stranger, call me that. He placed his large hand on my back and brought me to another section of the gallery. Tall white curtains stood in front of us.

“You worked, now you see,” he said as he pulled the curtain back.

The space was white and lit with tiny tea light candles that formed a pathway to a circle in the middle of the room. Shane stood in the circle. A covered painting leaned against a pillar beside him. He was dressed in black pants with a dark plum button-down shirt like the day he picked me up from the airport. His sleeves were rolled up and I could see the rose tattoo on his bicep.

“How did you plan this? You didn’t know I was coming here. I didn’t know I was coming,” I said.

“I know you better than you know yourself, Rosalie.” He walked over to me, took my hand, and led me into the circle. “I knew you couldn’t wait. It was just a matter of time before you showed up here.”

He grinned as his arms wrapped around my waist. Spotlights lit several square paintings lined horizontally on the wall. At the end was a blank space.

“I’ve dreamed about today,” he said. “Each of these paintings represents something in our relationship. Some people might think it’s crazy, or obsessive, but even when we were apart, all I thought about was you.”

He pointed to the first painting. On the canvas was a childlike princess with a young boy looking up at her. Shane lifted a handkerchief from the top of the pillar, revealing a tiara similar to the one I used to wear as a child. I laughed as he placed it on top of my head.

“You are crazy,” I said.

“I’m sure you recognize the second painting, the rose. That’s the one I was making for your birthday when we were living at your dad’s.”

“You never gave it to me.”

“I never thought it was good enough.”

“You should never think that. It’s beautiful.”

He shook his head, unable to take the compliment. I knew him well enough to not press. He would see how talented he was soon. I had no doubt that everyone would love his work.

As I looked at the different pieces, several of them really stood out to me. The first had a dark background with two white figures twisting together into one.

Another had a harsh red color and had the person from the other painting being ripped apart. He didn’t need to tell me that was when we broke up, I felt his pain from the canvas. It brought all those memories back of how much I hurt him and myself. I still felt bad about that.

The last painting was swirls of colors. I felt the confusion and anger from it. My chest ached thinking about how much pain I had caused him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I never meant to hurt you. It really was the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

“Please don’t be sad. It’s in the past, our past, but all of my pain is there in the art. That’s where it belongs. And who knows, maybe it was meant to happen so we could be here today.” He kissed my forehead and pointed to the blank space on the wall.

“Where’s the final painting?”

“It’s here.”

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