Pentimento

Chapter 5 - Recognition

She'd called Connie, the universities best receptionist and Rose's friend, to cancel all her classes. Now the road in front of her felt endless as she screamed over the radio, trying to deafen all the thoughts wandering around in her mind.

Just before the exit, she steered into a rest stop. While getting her nervous breathing under control, she picked out a cup of coffee and a chocolate bar.

"Do you happen to know if the Base is still open?"

"Yes ma'am! They're even right on open on Sundays now! Can't miss it when you are in town!"

She nodded to the clerk who looked like he had a whole speech prepared about the beloved town museum. She waved her card in front of him, which focused him back on the purchase.

She finished her coffee and the chocolate bar in the parking lot behind the gas station and headed into town.

Even though she had mentally prepared herself, she avoided looking at anything that could trigger a memory. A new-looking hotel that definitely didn't exist when Rose lived here, welcomed her with a big, red sign. She checked herself in and brought her overnight bag upstairs.

A loudly yelling tv chef was the perfect remedy against overthinking, and while he berated a young chef for not baking a complicated meat dish exactly right, she ate the snacks out of her handbag for dinner.

The light coming through the window woke her up. Her mind was foggy as if it had built a little wall to keep out the thoughts about what would happen today. The yogurt she got at the hotel breakfast buffet tasted like nothing and even the sugary granola she topped it with couldn't get her to notice it. She asked the receptionist what the quickest way to the museum was. It was just a ten-minute walk.

She stood in front of the museum, looking at the grey stones under her boots. She could catch a glimpse of the stairs. Oh, how she loved to walk those steps before her shifts. It was like screaming to everyone how cool of a job she had. This time, she hurried inside, trying not to feel the steps under her feet.

Her hand touched the back pocket of her jeans, where she had always put her employee card. She shook her head and went to stand behind an older couple who were buying tickets at the front desk. They talked to the receptionist, exclaiming how excited they were to visit. Rose whipped from feet to feet, until she finally looked up.

A deep breath out and the nerves fell silent. The museum looked exactly like she remembered and for a few seconds she expected James to walk out of the employee's area to tell her he lost his key again. Tears filled her eyes, but she smiled at the memory. The older couple enthusiastically made their way to the elevator and Rose bought a ticket. Unaware of the receptionist who glanced at her concerned multiple times, she stood right behind the front desk, unsure of where to go.

She shook her head. What did she think she was going to do here? Did she really think that going to the museum would make her happy again? She scolded herself for being so naïve.

She wished she could go to the coffee machine and gather her thoughts, but her feet made their way to the right side of the museum, up the stairs, and there she was.

Looking at the paintings she had admired for so many nights felt like getting a hug from an old friend. She made her way past the landscape paintings that would inevitably remind her of that night and went to sit in front of a beautiful still life painting of a bouquet of flowers. She spent several minutes sitting there, breathing slowly with a half-smile on her face. It was just her and the flowers, a feeling she had missed for nearly thirty years. Following the brushstrokes, taking in each individual color the painter had chosen.

Rose wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that things in the museum hadn't lost any of their beauty. A man had lost his life next to them, but the brushstrokes didn't move from their perfectly chosen places. The empty places where the thieves took away the most expensive works were now filled by artworks that had been hidden in the basement when she worked here. No one could tell they were supposed to be empty. It could have made Rose angry, that no one acknowledged James' life and death at the museum. But instead, it made her heart feel lighter, and a genuine smile grew on her face.

In her mind, the museum had always stayed a dark place, full of gunshots, bloody tiles, and empty spaces where beauty was supposed to be. Over the years, her memories of the place had slowly shifted to her own personal haunted house.

She glimpsed at the landscape paintings and was almost surprised when she didn't hear the gunshot that had plagued her dreams for many years. If you didn't know better, you'd never guess there was supposed to be a wonderful painting of eleven poplars hanging among them.

When she walked downstairs again, it was like her mind decided to open the closet that she had carefully hidden all the memories about James and the museum in. With a cocktail of emotions, but all still inside the glass, she walked out of the museum.

In the park, she sat down with a cup of coffee on a damp wooden bench and tried to give every memory it's due. From her nightly adventures with James, to that night. The last night she made memories in the museum. Memories she hadn't thought of in years.

When she got to the end of that night, or at least, the last memory she had, the visual of the 'The Man with the Magnifying Glass' was as fresh in her mind as back then. She googled the picture and stared at the dark, almost black, eyes. It was exactly how she remembered the eyes of the man who almost killed her. They were black too, both in color and the emotion that spewed from them. She put on her coat a little tighter. For weeks after the heist, she had wanted to know why he didn't just kill her. But deep down she knew, he had recognized her. Because she had recognized him.