Pentimento

Chapter 1 - Rose

The noise was so loud, Rose looked around to see if people were really still enjoying this. She had promised her friends to go out because she had bailed on so many of their plans already. Her best friend had told her that if she didn't come, they wouldn't be friends any longer. An incredible childish statement, but Rose had come anyway.

She looked at her phone, her shift started in an hour. Her friends were drunk enough that they wouldn't be able to tell that she was leaving early.

"My shift starts soon, I'm going to head out, sorry!" she screamed as loud as she could. There was no way her friends could understand what she was saying. They waved for her to stop talking. Did they even see her? Or was their vision blurred by the alcohol and flashing lights? Rose didn't care anymore.

Outside she took a few heavy breaths. The cool air made her shiver, but she welcomed it by keeping her jacket wrapped around her arm. As she walked, the music of the club slowly deadened. Now there was room to enjoy the quietness of the nights in Zwolle. The city wasn't enormous, but there were still enough people that the streets seemed alive at night, just at a slower, more peaceful pace. Those were the moments Rose loved to walk outside. Even if she didn't have a shift to walk to, she would often wander through the streets and parks of Zwolle at night.

Cold to her bones, she made her way up the stairs to the museum's front door. The majestic steps leading up to them were her favorite, and she was the only employee who refused to use the back door. Her partner for this shift was seventy-year-old James. James liked to act like he was as old as the renaissance paintings in the right wing.

"Lady Clementine, good evening!" he said when she opened the door. He was standing awkwardly in the middle of the hall. She squinted her eyes at him.

"James. Did you, by any chance, forget your keys again?"

His eyes stared at the little black and white squares on the ground.

"If you don't pay attention, they're going to lock you up in an old people's home soon," she said while waving her own key in front of him.

Ashamed, he looked away, but the corners of his mouth were slightly raised. He loved working with Rose, she made him feel young.

He took the biggest chair in the security room, one of the more positive results of being the older one. Rose didn't seem bothered by her cheaper, smaller chair. She turned on all the monitors and put all the snacks up on the desk area.

"Hey, are those...?"

"Strawberry Oreos, yes, James. The day has come."

Rose had never seen anyone smile that bright looking at a packet of Oreo's. Especially not the overly sweet strawberry ones. They were awfully expensive too, she had to buy them at an American-themed, and thus very overpriced, candy store. But the smile on James' face was worth it. She knew he was having a hard time. His wife died unexpectedly three years ago and because she was relatively old, everyone expected him to "get over it" quickly. It was clear that wouldn't happen in his lifetime. If gross pink Oreos would make him forget for a little bit, that was worth it for Rose.

"How's your hip?"

"My hip is just fine, thank you, I will do the first round."

Rose smiled, that was exactly what she hoped for. She wanted to finish her hot coffee first.

She watched on the monitors how James moved through the museum. It wasn't a big building. There were only two wings. The middle of the museum housed the only elevator in the building. Most people took the round staircases to the upstairs levels. It was part of the museum experience. The staircases had small windows, through which guests could watch over the city center. But the real museum experience obviously came from the art.

The left wing was mostly modern art. Right now, there were some 3D artworks on display. Thankfully all inanimate. Rose had not particularly enjoyed her dayshifts when one of the art pieces had been a male art student who was standing naked on a banana statue, hiding his dignity behind another banana-shaped object. James had absolutely loved it and had tried to lure Rose into the room as many times as he could, always waiting and laughing when she came around.

Even when the left wing was free of naked art students and banana-shaped objects, the right wing was still Rose's favorite.

It was where they housed the art from the Dutch golden age until the 20th century. She loved to sit on the benches and imagine standing next to the person painted in front of her. She couldn't imagine them walking around in the city center right now, but she liked to imagine herself in their world. She could look at a single painting for hours, especially during the night shifts, when there was no one to disturb her thoughts.