Page 71 of Black
I inwardly cringed, knowing he was right.
“Personally this one is my favorite,” Gabriel said and moved to the third painting. Bruce put his glasses back on.
“Ah, yes, the bathing. Such lovely colors.”
It was a blue picture with me floating on water with my eyes closed. A man’s hand came from underneath me and was splayed over my genitals and another arm was placed across my chest with the hand firmly placed on my right breast.
On the side of my face a yellow rubber duck broke the blue color of water.
“It’s beautiful,” Bruce said, “but I can’t really determine if she’s relaxed or sleeping.”
“She’s relaxed,” Gabriel interjected. “And underneath her there’s a man that helps her float.”
“Are you sure he isn’t trying to pull her down?” Bruce asked.
Gabriel pushed his chest out. “No, he’s definitely helping her float.”
“Is that so? And I suppose you assume that man is you.”
Gabriel gave me a quick glance. “It’s me, right?”
I smiled, but didn’t answer, so we moved to the fourth painting.
“Oh wow, this one holds so much aggression,” Bruce said and leaned closer to take in the details of the lion roaring at the viewer.
“It’s not just an aggressive lion. Don’t you see that it’s protecting the child?” Gabriel pointed to a young girl who peeked her head out from behind the lion.
“But protecting her from what?” Bruce asked.
I laughed. It was entertaining to hear them try to analyze the meaning of my paintings.
“From the snake, of course. It’s right there.” Gabriel pointed to the tree, where a snake was almost completely hidden.
“You’re right.” Bruce turned to me and his eyes were sparkling. “Let me guess; Anna and Mark?”
I nodded.
“Excellent. You are truly talented Cia, this makes an old man’s blood pump faster. So many colors and emotions.”
“Then what do you think of this one?” I asked and went to stand in front of the fourth picture.
Bruce frowned. “It’s very dramatic and sinister.”
“Yes, it is.” Gabriel looked away. I knew he didn’t like that picture.
It showed the camp, and one of the cabins was on fire. A man stood on the porch of another cabin with his back to the burning house, busy talking to a woman. He didn’t see the child running out of the burning cabin engulfed in flames and with an expression of misery.
Bruce cleared his throat. “This represents the nightmare you had?”
“Yes.”
“And the man, is that your father failing you?”
I didn’t answer that question. Bruce hadn’t found out about the night Gabriel spent with Therese, and we both preferred it that way.
“I don’t see the Hello Kitty that your mother burned, and I’m a little confused why it would be the cabin burning and not your childhood home.”
After another minute of studying the picture Bruce added, “I’m surprised your mother isn’t in the picture, but maybe she’s the woman he’s talking to?”
