Martha

Chapter 11 Basket of Flowers

Chapter 11
Basket of Flowers

Day and night Martha's face buzzed inside my head and I was starting to believe, by faith, I swear, she was in fact a witch. Since the day she helped me with Juliette, for some strange reason, I couldn't stop thinking about her... Those blue eyes haunted me. Her sultry voice, the way she moved around the house, it only made things worst and inside of me it grew an urge to invite her to come once more.  It was as if the house felt empty without her.

I laughed to my own predicament once I realized how pathetic I sounded. It was some sort of failed attempt of poetic romance. Definitely there was something wrong with me. And, the worst part of all this was that I avoided Paula, by all means, intentionally and soon the woman noticed my indifference. It was it. As simple as it was. Since the very day Martha was in my house and helped me out with 'drunk Juliette', there wasn't room in my brain for any other female's curvy silhouette. Paula was not appealing for me anymore... Why! Damned!

I recalled, with some sort of nostalgia that she was in my house, in my kitchen. Then we teamed up and escorted together Juliette and even though we didn't talk that much, what I saw in her gave me a different perspective, a totally different one, a more intimate one, of this lady everyone found evil and called a she-devil.

Like zombified, I've found myself more than once staring to Martha's house. Everyday since, I wanted to knock her door and make up the silliest excuse: "Hey, I just dropped by to bring you cake..." Yeah, right. Then I pictured her tossing her black cat on my face.

Besides my exacerbated imagination, what really bothered me was that Martha was avoiding me in the same way I did with Paula. Karma is a bitch, I've always known. Still, I needed to find a way to talk to her again. There had to be a way.

Meanwhile in school, everything was set for the trip to the museum. Like a child, I was too excited, I think more that everyone else in class. That Friday I was going to the M. Higgins' art work exhibition with my of students. In class, they did their research, and it was fun that they only found interesting the fact that no one had ever met the artist in person. It was like a surreal story to them.

The alumni presented oral reports, created graphic organizers and analizad
his trajectory as a painter and sculptor. His work was compendium of North American history and natural landscape. The man was truly talented, yet enigmatic and that fascinated his fans.

Going to the museum with a bunch of teenagers was never an easy task. The worst part was always the bus ride. All them together in a confined space that happens to move is a nightmare for every educator. That Friday we left school in the bus at 9:00 in the morning. Of course I wasn't going to commit suicide -at least not alone- so I invited a few professors to join me on the trip, brave enough to follow me on the adventure to the museum. The valiants were Mrs. Davidson, the other history teacher, Mr. Blanche, the plastic arts teacher, and Mrs. Carvahlo. Yes Paula, she volunteered to go too. Fifty students in total, all of them conspiring to torture me singing Justin Bieber and One Direction songs out loud. What is wrong with this generation! Thank God it was only a thirty minutes trip to the Charter's Art Museum, because already I was having the urge of throwing myself out of the bus.

Once there, it was great to see the students so interested in the art work part of the permanent exhibition at the museum. For the first time, they payed attention and remained quiet to the guide's explanations. I even considered to move my classroom to the museum after that. It made me smile, a good sign that not everything was lost. They  asked a lot of questions about the sculptures, paintings and archeological objects.

The group toured inside the whole museum. The building was small compared to others, but it was neatly organized and the areas were identified according to the artistic movement or periods in history. There was a fine collection in the museum's permanent exhibition and I felt like a kid in a candy store.

Paula walked next to me... all the way. She insisted and persisted in talking to me. Why? I was trying my best to be polite with her because in the end it was not her fault. She was so nice, an so gorgeous. So why on Earth I couldn't avoid thinking of Martha! We were in the designated wing for M. Higgins exhibition when I gave up and pushed myself to talk to Paula. To honor the truth she was the kind of person who made a good conversation and we had many things in common.

I was having a great time. The students were amazed. All in all it was a fabulous event. There were photographers, journalists and a few people gathered around the wonderful paintings made by my favorite artist of all times. It was a pity only press was allowed to take pictures inside the museum because I was dying to take a few shots, and kids too.

There was a moment when Paula moved from my side to talk with the museum's curator, and I felt relieved somehow. I did the same and moved from the corner we were to take a closer look on the rest of the paintings. I soon was enthralled by a human size portrait of a girl holding a basket of white flowers in front of a market. It was such a vivid and realistic painting. Colors were utilized with flamboyant style and impressive technique. The artwork reminded me of the 'Placitas del Mercado' in my home town, loaded with fresh fruits and vegetables. Painted in a way that everywhere you stood, the girl seemed to look at you, it gives you chills while captivating.

Baffled by the pretty girl in the painting, I was totally unaware of the person approaching towards me. A woman stood right next to me, staring at the picture just like I did. "Are you enjoying the exhibition, Mr. Grau?" She asked in her sultry sweet voice.