Page 10 of A Life Imagined
“Does that sound good, or is there something specific you’d like to see?”she asked.
“That sounds fine.”
“Great.”Elise turned to him with a smile.“It’s so wonderful you could come.”
Rayan returned the smile with half the woman’s enthusiasm, and even that felt forced.“How long did you work here?”
Elise’s eyes sparkled.“Six years.I started right after finishing my PhD.I spent some time interning and then managed to elbow my way into a paid position.Working here was always a dream of mine.”She directed him toward the entrance to the Richelieu Wing.“How about you?”
Rayan looked at her quizzically.
“What was your childhood dream?”she asked.“The thing you always wanted to do?”
She said it so flippantly, as though one’s purpose was cultivated from childhood.He’d had vague fantasies of future vocations when he was younger, usually tied to whatever he was obsessed with at the time—planes, languages, ancient civilizations.Those all disappeared when simple necessities in his life became fantasies of their own—a house to live in, food to eat.
“I didn’t really have one,” he said.
“No?But you must have been interested in something.”
“Not particularly.”
They made their way into an ornate gallery filled with glass cases displaying a collection of pots and statues and stone tablets.
“This is the Galerie d’Angoulême,” Elise explained, lowering her voice so it didn’t carry in the hushed space.“The pieces here are all oriental antiquities, mostly from Mesopotamia and the Levant.Some of the works in this collection are among the oldest in the museum.”
Rayan walked over to a white limestone slab standing in the middle of the room.
“That’s a stela depicting Baal, the storm god,” Elisa said.“It was found in the ancient city of Ugarit, which is modern-day Syria.”
It was hard to believe the weathered etchings had existed centuries ago.Compared to that, the span of a human life was a blip.Rayan moved to a display featuring a series of unglazed water jugs.
“So, are you in finance?”she asked.
He glanced at Elise.“What?”
“Mathias mentioned something about working in private lending back in Canada.”
Right.Private lending.
“Did you two work together?”
“Something like that.”
“How did you get into it?”
Rayan attempted an indifferent shrug.“Just one of those things you fall into.Practical, pays the bills.”
“It’s hard to imagine Mathias in a job like that.Customer service isn’t exactly his strong suit.He once refused a client’s request because she asked too many questions.”
Now, that sounds familiar.
They continued through the gallery, the click of Elise’s heels on the patterned marble tiles echoing around the room.
“Is that what you do now?”she asked.
“Not anymore.I work at the center for new migrants.”
Elise’s eyebrows shot up.“Really?Do you have anything to do with the camp?”
