Life in Paintings

Chapter 47 - Portrait of Juliette Courbet

Chapter 47 – Portrait of Juliette Courbet

I wake up sitting on the ground.

And I burst into tears.

I cry for what just happened to me. I cry for what could have happened to me. It could have been a lot worse. It could have been so much worse...

I cry because I'm so tired of all of this, so exhausted. I thought things were getting easier now. I thought the horror was done. I thought the suffering wasn't going to be this gruesome again.

I really should stop expecting things to be okay. This is not a fun adventure. It is a curse. I cannot forget it.

But for now, I'm just going to cry. So, I do.

I cry like a baby, letting myself sob a little uncontrollably.

Eventually, I feel a little better.

But then I realize I'm not alone.

A young girl is standing a few feet from me.

"Oh, sorry," I say, and get up on my feet, wiping my eyes with my hands.

That must have been quite the show. I'm immediately on the defensive. The paintings have not been kind to me lately.

"It's fine. I assumed you were going through something and it was better just to let you be," she replies.

She doesn't seem threatening, or dangerous.

Her eyes feel familiar. It's the strangest of feelings. I look at her and I feel like I know her.

"Thank you," I reply, not sure if I can actually trust her.

"Is there anything I can do? About whatever it is that made you cry like this?" she asks me.

"Unfortunately, I do not think so. But thank you," I tell her genuinely.

She keeps looking at me with gentle eyes. Not the ones of someone that would have a pack of rabid dogs ready to attack me.

A kind soul. I haven't met a lot of these.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Juliette. And you?"

"Melody."

"My brother's wife is called Melody," she tells me, almost like an afterthought.

I stopped breathing.

It can't be. It's not possible. It couldn't be this easy.

But these eyes. I know these eyes. And I know his sisters' names.

"By any chance... is your brother named Gustave?"

The young girl grins back at me. But then she frowns. "Wait? Did my brother make you cry like this? When you just got married?"

It's Gustave's sister! I can't believe it! That's impossible. I'm freaking out.

But also we just got married? Have we not been parted for long then?

"I'm not crying because of him. Your brother is the sweetest," I tell her.

"He really is," she agrees.

He's talked enough about them for me to know that he's probably a good brother. He really adores his little sisters.

"And where is he now?"

"Somewhere out there, painting," she says, gesturing to a trail behind me.

No. That can't be.