Illicit Canvas: political romance and stand alone romance

by Mazurkiewicz, Joanna

  Maja arrives home an hour later, flushed and very disturbed. “Oh my God, Arwen, I’m so sorry, but I don’t know how they found out. I bet they surrounded you like hyenas.”

  I hug her, feeling like she is the only person that I can truly trust.

  “It’s Colin. He went to the press.”

  Her jaw drops and she shakes her head in disbelief. “Son of a bitch.”

  “He didn’t want to listen to Ethan at all that day. He just stormed off, livid.”

  “Still, I can’t believe that he would do such a thing. This will damage Ethan’s reputation. What’s going to happen to his career?”

  “I don’t know. He’s finishing in a couple of days, so it doesn’t matter, but I’m worried about the exhibition. The paintings. No artist would want to work with him now. Maybe that’s what Colin was aiming for: to ruin him. I don’t believe that he knows about Ethan’s resignation.”

  “Hold on—Ethan resigned? Why?”

  “Because of the art gallery. He wanted to start over, without any distractions.”

  Maja looks shocked and I already know what’s going through her mind. Most art businesses are based on reputation. Relationships within the art community are crucial. We discuss this for the next hour and when Maja offers to make dinner, I try to call Ethan again. I can’t get through. His phone is switched off. I don’t sleep that night at all, worrying and thinking about what’s going to happen to us.

  Ethan doesn’t call for the next few days and all the reporters are still occupying the road outside. There are more articles in the papers and more pictures of me and Ethan. I can’t help but read everything that’s out there. Ethan told me that he cheated on his wife, but he never said that this girl was his apprentice. There was twelve years difference between them.

  People are staring at me more than usual, but I try to ignore everyone. In the canteen I can hear them talking about me, glancing up when I pass by. After a couple of days, I realise that Ethan won’t call. Deep down, he doesn’t care about me anymore.

  On Friday afternoon I sit alone, moving the rice around on my plate, feeling numb and exhausted. I’ve barely eaten anything since Monday and even now my stomach is empty, but I can’t swallow any food. Someone sits opposite me, but I don’t move, hoping that whoever it is will go away. Maybe it’s just another girl that wants to know what is going on between me and Ethan.

  “Hey, Arwen, how you doing?”

  I freeze and dart my eyes at Colin, who is smirking at me.

  “What the fuck do you want?” I ask through gritted teeth, my fury rising. I wish I could have been much stronger back when I met him, more decisive about my choices.

  “I just want to talk, see how you’re doing since you’re not sleeping with my father anymore.”

  “Fuck you. I can’t believe that you went to the press with this. You and I weren’t even together, Colin.”

  He looks away, but that smirk doesn’t disappear from his face. How could I not see that he was so selfish? “I told you how I felt about you and you still fucked my father. It was just a matter of time before we could get back together.”

  I laugh loudly. “You’re delusional, Colin, and a complete asshole. He’s your father and he cares about you.”

  His face contracts with anger and he leans over.

  “He took what’s mine and I don’t like to share. Besides, he was only playing with you.”

  “Ethan loves me.”

  Colin shakes his head, shifting his expression to a more serious one. “Sorry to be the one to break it to you, sugar, but you mean nothing to him. You’re like this girl from years ago, Lucy. He cheated with her when my mother was married to him. He was never going to marry her and he thought that no one would find out.”

  “You have no idea about us, Colin.”

  “Did he ever tell you that he loved you?” he asks. I don’t answer, feeling like someone has stabbed my heart, then tossed it on the floor. “I thought so. My father doesn’t love. He ruined my mother; she had to seek counselling for years. He just wanted to have some fun.”

  Tears well in my eyes, but I fight not to cry, refuse to acknowledge anything he says.

  “You wanted to get him fired, right?”

  Colin runs his hand through his hair, meeting my eyes again. He isn’t sorry at all. “Partly, yes, but see, I’m more clever than that. I knew that he was starting this art business, so I thought why not do something more worthwhile, something to remind him that he should have never fucked with my life.”

  “You have no morals? No remorse?”

  “Nah. I wanted to teach him a lesson. My mother was wrecked for years. Now not only does he not have a job to go back to, but his business is also fucked. Seducing young artists … figure it out yourself. No one would want to work with him, not after what’s happened.”

  Colin is one twisted self-centered bastard. There is no point talking to him at all. My stomach churns loudly and I think I’m going to be sick. How can another human being behave like that?

  “I’m out of here,” I say, getting up, but he grabs my hand.

  “There is no point in your going back to him. You’ll only make things worse. If you want to help him, then leave. He doesn’t love you and you have no future together.”

  I lean in, whispering, “Let go of me or I’ll slap you in front of everyone here.”

  Colin glances around, realising that people are staring at us. Everyone in the canteen has stopped eating their lunch and is listening to our conversation. “He has no credibility anymore. No one will work with him if he has you close. Remember my words,” he adds and then pulls away.

  My legs are going to give out if I don’t get out of here. I have kissed that man, let him into my life and I enjoyed his company. When I get outside I let go of my tears. His words are still on my mind, so fresh and hurtful, but what if he is right? What if Ethan doesn't love me or if my staying with him will ruin him?

  Ethan

  My conversation with the president didn’t go well. He wasn’t thrilled with the stories in the papers, but he didn’t ask me about Arwen. He always respects privacy and this is my problem. Besides, there is very little that he can do. I’m leaving; today is my last day. I imagined this moment so differently, filled with celebration and congratulations. Instead, there is just bitter disappointment and worries about tomorrow.

  Cindy has brought me a present. She cried a little, wishing me the best. There have been more articles online. The media has been wondering if there will be another girl after Arwen, another student.

  She has called a few times since Monday, but I didn’t have the energy to talk to her. Two artists that I arranged to see have cancelled their meetings.

  The opening is next Friday and I haven’t got enough paintings. That one moment, the choice that I made will cost my career and everything that we both have been working for. I thank Cindy and a few other staff, pack my bag and leave. There are a few reporters outside, trying to talk to me, but I ignore them. The story is finally dying down. There are other scandals, things worth writing about.

  When I get to my apartment I lock the door and take out my best bottle of Scotch. I had plans. I wanted to celebrate with Arwen, but it’s better if I stay away from her for a week or so. She doesn’t need me to mess up her life even more.

  I drink because everything comes back and I have to forget, get numb. She was worth it. After all this, I still believe that I would have never found another woman like her. The drink tastes good and after the fifth glass I’m on my sofa. I never do this. Well, not alone anyway. Getting drunk and feeling sorry for myself.

  It was me. I have fallen in love with a twenty-year-old student, my son’s former girlfriend. I made my bed, so now I have to lie in it.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Arwen

  Last night I had a dream about being in Saint-Malo. I was swimming in the sea with all my friends and I was so happy. Then I had to wake up, realising that I was still in the same place
, my bedroom.

  Brussels is like my home, so why do I feel so lonely? All this time that I have been here, I felt alive. I never missed Saint-Malo until last night.

  I never thought that I could fall in love with a stranger in a gallery. That burning hole in my heart spreads. Since that morning in Ethan’s apartment, everything I do seems so unfulfilling. The loneliness shuts down the new me; the darkness is slipping through and taking the last bits of hope that Ethan will come back to me. I don’t want to be his mistress, just another girl that he slept with.

  Yesterday was Ethan’s last day at work. I called him, but he didn’t pick up. I guess that he didn’t want to talk to me. It’s over between us. Finally I saw his real, angry side. He no longer cares and maybe Colin was right all along.

  I was up all night, thinking about what to do next, how to heal my sliced heart. When the sun rises I have my answer.

  “I’m going back to Saint-Malo,” I say to Maja when she comes out of her room. I’m preparing breakfast, trying to keep my mind busy.

  “To visit?”

  Silence. I can’t tell her the real truth. It’s more than just a visit. “Maybe ... well, I don’t know yet. I feel suffocated here. It’s over between me and Ethan anyway.”

  She stops eating, staring at me intensely. “Maybe? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means what it means, Maja. I need some time to think.”

  “Did you speak to him? What about the exhibition? You can’t leave now. He needs you,” she adds, getting up and walking up to me. I like Maja’s innocence; she believes that there was no breakup, that Ethan will come back.

  “I don’t need to talk to him. He made it clear that it’s over the last time he was here. Besides, it’s better if I don’t show up at the exhibition.”

  “Arwen, I think you’re making a mistake. Give this some time. Don’t you get it? That’s what Colin wanted all along, to break you and Ethan apart.”

  “I’ve made up my mind. My flight is in three hours and I have to be in the airport soon.”

  “When are you going to come back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you going to come back at all?” she asks in a whisper.

  I swallow my tears and fold the rest of my clothes on the floor. “Maja, stop asking questions that I can’t answer. I don’t think that I can be here, in this city, studying art and pretending that I’m fine.”

  “You can’t just give up. What about your course? Don’t jump the gun. Ethan needs you, it’s–”

  “He doesn’t love me, Maja. He never said it and he never will!” I shout, crying now. “His reputation is ruined, his business and everything. Please just don’t. I have to leave to save him. If I’m not around, maybe people will start to trust him again.”

  My roommate doesn’t say anymore, glaring at me. This is the best way to make this right. If I stay, the press will continue to sniff around and people won’t stop talking about us. At least, once I’m not in the picture, he can concentrate, save his dignity and throw an amazing exhibition.

  I didn’t have the chance to speak to my father, but at least I gained some closure, got some answers. I love the course and I love what I’m doing, but…

  Two hours later I sit on the cold steel bench in the airport, wondering if I can start over somewhere else. Some place where I don’t have to worry about being broken and empty, where I can simply exist.

  On the plane I text Ethan, saying that it was nice knowing him, that I left him another painting in my room for the exhibition and he can collect it. I sink into my seat trying not to cry. After twenty minutes I give up, looking out the window and weeping.

  It’s over—my romance, my search, and my adventure with art. Everything is done and there is no point looking back.

  ***

  I make a call to my mother when I arrive. The call doesn’t go the way I want. Mum cries, shouts, then cries some more, before showing up half an hour later to pick me up. I didn’t answer any of her calls in the past week. She was probably freaking out and I feel bad, knowing what I put her through during my suicidal attempt years ago.

  When I see her walking towards me, I barely recognise her. She looks good; tanned, makeup done and new clothes.

  “Oh, Arwen, how could you do that to me? Not talking, not answering any phone calls. I was a wreck.” She breaks out in tears, hugging me, checking my face. Francois is right behind her, shaking his head. I start sobbing then, not able to pretend any longer. Mum has a great personality, but even now she doesn’t quite know how to handle me. I’m howling, people are staring at us, and Francois looks uncomfortable, glancing around.

  The truth is that I never cry, not in front of her if I can help it. Even in the hospital, after I woke up, I pretended that I was fine. Mum exchanges a worried look with Francois, probably asking him for help, not knowing how to make me feel better. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. The tears keep streaming down and I can’t stop. The darkness should be fading away, but the pain stays, gripping my heart tighter.

  “Come on now, just stop it. I’m not angry anymore, darling, but I was worried,” she says as we walk to the car. I want to stop moving through this cloud of sadness. The pain is mounting, but how long am I supposed to feel this way?

  I walk out and automatically inhale, recognising the saltiness of the sea in the air. I remember the dream from last night and smile. Maybe I’m not lost after all.

  Half an hour later, I’m back home, in the place where everything began. Francois helps me with my bag and I know that my mother wants to squeeze the truth out of me, but I’m not ready to talk to her. She has never seen me like this, and she looks worried.

  “It’s all right, you can explain everything tomorrow. Now sleep,” she says, and to my great astonishment, she walks out of the room, closing the door behind her. No more questions. She has left me alone. She must trust me.

  I walk to the window and stare at the world, remembering what I left behind.

  Everything around me moves in slow motion. I take off my clothes slowly and change into my favourite blue pyjamas, feeling tired. When I slip under the soft covers everything seems better, calmer. I think that my grief is draining me. There are no more tears; my body has dried up. The heavy weight on my shoulders crushes me like dark water. All of a sudden I’m so exhausted and tired that I just want to sleep. Ethan and I are no longer together. Our love was put to the test and I didn’t pass. My eyes feel heavy, so I do the only thing that is right—fall asleep.

  I wake up in the early hours of the morning breathing hard, my back drenched with sweat. I look around, disoriented for a moment. I had another dream, but the images are quickly slipping away. I remember that I was alone, standing in the shallow dark water.

  I don’t go back to sleep. Instead I take out a notepad and start drawing whatever is in my head. I don’t know how much time passes, but as the sun finally rises, my drawing is completed. Ethan’s beautiful face is staring back at me, slowly crushing me back into the dark hole.

  I sigh, forcing myself not to waste any more tears. I haven’t cried like that since my father left, and that was ten years ago. I have been sad like that once before, but I can’t put Mum through this kind of grief again. She deserves better.

  Mum is already up when I walk to the spacious white kitchen an hour later. The table is set and she is pouring coffee into my favourite mug. Now it’s time to talk, to tell her what happened in Brussels.

  “Hey, darling, have you slept well?” she asks me. I nod silently and sit down. I’ll be all right. My heart will heal and Ethan will be able to lift his business back up, now that I’m here. My mother is still pretty. She looks so radiant and happy. It seems that I made the right decision in moving away.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m sad, Mum, but this is how you’re supposed to feel after a breakup,” I reply.

  “A breakup—oh my, so it’s true then? You have been in a relationship with that man? The
politician?”

  Maybe she hoped that the information in the papers wasn’t true. I don’t think she’s shocked, just disappointed that I haven’t said anything.

  I take a sip of coffee, followed by a deep breath. “I’ll explain everything, but first I need to tell you about something. I need to explain why I decided to move to Brussels.”

  “Well, isn’t that obvious? The galleries and art. Saint-Malo is lovely, but I knew that you always felt stuck here, especially after what happened in the old house. I was scared to let you go, but you were doing so much better and I guess the medications helped.”

  She has no idea or else she is pretending well. “No, Mum. I found out that Dad had moved there and I decided to find him.”

  My mother widens her eyes and glances at the door, probably to see if Francois is still asleep. “Your father? What are you talking about?”

  “I know everything. You don’t have to pretend anymore. I moved to Brussels to find him, and to find out why he abandoned me.”

  “You saw him? Have you spoken to him?” she asks with a small voice.

  I shift on the chair, telling myself to breathe. “Not exactly.”

  She rubs her eyes and then looks at me, scared and somehow intimidated by the news. Maybe she really had no idea what I was doing. “I needed to protect you from him, Arwen. Our relationship didn’t work out. He wasn’t a good man, a good father. He hurt you, always criticising you, nothing was ever good enough. He was always a perfectionist, almost to the point of obsession.”

  “I remembered the painting from the past, the one that he carried with him the whole time. I created a reproduction and I thought that if I located the original I would get to him eventually.”

  My mother shakes her head and smiles. “Yes, I remember he had that painting with him all the time.”

  “I made a copy of the painting and I started asking curators in galleries, but I wasn’t making much progress until I met Ethan.”