Fields of Iris

A True Artist

"She'll have a Strawberry Margarita," a voice spoke close to my ear, making me jump a bit, turning on my heels to see Ivan smirking down at me.

"Lord Jesus, You scared the soul from me!" I harped, seeing his smirk turn into a grin. He sure was a handsome fella, but a little too dramatic for my taste. "What is a mar-ga-ri-ta," I said, pronouncing the words slowly.

"A very delicious drink that will melt in your mouth," he spoke as a glass clinked down behind me. I turned around and picked it up, smelling the fruity pink drink.

"Why does it have a little umbrella?" I asked, plucking the thing at and looking at it oddly.

"Do you mind if I ask how deep in Brooksedge you live exactly?" He asked as I brought the straw up to my mouth taking a sip, the taste hitting my mouth with many flavors.

"Pretty deep. If you take the I-89 all the way down and turn at the old Dairy Queen and once you hit the giant 'Believe in Jesus or burn in eternal hell fire sign', i'm just down yonder," I said, sipping the drink once more, the taste feeling wild and fruity on my tongue. "This is really delicious!" I hollered to Ivan.

"Nothing but the best here. Now, why don't we go take that tour," he spoke, holding his hand out to me. I stopped slurping on the drink and looked down at his hand, wondering if it was a good idea to take it. I looked around the club, hoping to spot Chase somewhere, with no luck in sight. I looked back at Ivan who still stood there and with one more sip of the drink, I took his hand and allowed him to guide me through the crowd. The people seemed to part as he strolled through them, leading us up some steps, where the must quieted down and so did the people. Instead they looked unto the many pieces of work that filled the room.

It was like a dream as he led me to a section of paintings with weird abstract colors spread across the page. "Tell me... what do you think?" He asked as I bit my lip, not wanting to insult anyone.

"It's nice," I said simply, nodding my head.

"Oh don't be coy. Tell me what you really think... or what you see," he said as I raised my eyes, more than glad to have to go ahead to share my opinion.

"Well... I don't see anything. I get what they were tryna do, but it seems like a bunch of blobs," I spoke admittingly.

"Exactly what I thought. My intern picked this one, which will not happen again," he said, directing me over to another section. The paintings in this area were cleaner and showed images of people in strange dark situations. I looked at a picture, tilting my head trying to figure out what exactly the woman had in her mouth. "These are more precarious paintings. I think they were inspired by BDSM themes," he said, making me raise my eyes, afraid to ask what that even meant. I was too embarrassed to even ask what 'precarious' meant. I took another gulp of the drink, feeling odd as I looked on at the painting. "What are your thoughts?"

"Ummmmm..... I ain't seen nothin like it before. It's... nicely painted but I don't know, it seems kind of..."

"Impersonal?" He said as I looked up and nodded my head feeling a bit faint and my body feeling light as I took another gulp of the sweet drink. He moved me to the end of the hall where I saw my own paintings set up, people watching and comments of positivity surrounding me.

"Now this one is my favorite," he said, leading me to a painting I had done a long time ago. It showed an angel, reaching out for the top of the sky... she was painted in all white, with a black background surrounding her. One of her wings is broken in half, tearing off from the rest of the wing. A string was wrapped around her neck, as if it was chained down to the bottom, a light at the top, with a single shadow reaching down. "Tell me what it means?" He said as I looked up, shaking my head.