Ms. Calloway (Book 2 in the For Better Or Worse Trilogy)

Chapter 26

Room after room, Roman guides me. Because he paid to have the museum all to ourselves, he was able to point out all the art and details he worried I would miss. There was information he knew that tour guides never mentioned in their own tours. One of the greatest things about Roman was his passions and the ability to share them without being patronizing. He makes you feel like you're part of his world. Not that you are too ignorant to even come close to understanding these beauties.

A hall of statues welcomes us further into the Vatican Museums. Cold blue marble and gold ceilings decorate the room. A new wing, built by Raphael Stern. Statues and busts line the wall. Some of which are The Prima Porta Augustus and The River Nile. One as beautiful as the other. But, truthfully, my attention still found its way back to Roman every few seconds. Many people have passions. Some that take over their life wholeheartedly. Whether it be an instrument, writing, sports, photography etc. But, there is no one quite as passionate as Roman Berkshire. He talks of art like he lives and breathes it. Like it's the greatest gift that the world has ever given us. He considers each stroke, every shade of color used, the meaning behind the piece. And when he talks about it, there's something so poetic about it. Listening to him feels like experiencing the northern lights for the first time. Fortunate enough to be living, breathing, and standing at this very place at this very moment.

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After the museum, Roman and I had the most exuberant conversation about everything we loved and admired in the museum. There wasn't a single disappointing part of the Vaticans Museum. However, I'm not sure if it's due to the museum itself or the person I was with.

Because of his insistence, after a long walk through the museum, he leads me to the gondolas. There, he unexpectedly took my hand, carefully leading me into the gondola. Soon after, he climbs inside with me, never removing my hand from his own. Though, his other hand holds me waist, keeping me still as he lowers us to a sitting position. Behind us, a man dressed in a white and black shirt, wearing a black hat, and holding a rowing oar.

"I never imagined this to be real life." I say aloud, more to myself than anyone particular.

"Art imitates life." He's looking at me again. A look that contains the many words he seems not able to speak.

"Do you really believe that?" I ask.

"Yes. Art is beguiling. A kind of heavenly beauty that feels unattainable. There's nothing like that..." As we follow the canal between colorful homes, greenery seen from their balconies, I find that his eyes stay on me. All of this beautiful scenery squandered on him. "Where do you think these artists find inspiration? The perfect yellows to bring light alive on a canvas? The relationships between humans and inanimate objects? The elegant movements of water? The representation of human emotions? All of it comes from all parts of life."

I look at the lights dangling from the open restaurants, lining the sides of the gondola. His words dance in my head as I take them into consideration. Life always imitated art, or so I thought. His words make me question everything I once knew.

"It would be like painting you. Stunning, but not as beautiful as the real thing." Heat rises to my cheeks, making me change my attention to the bridge above.

"You're right." I gulp, nodding far too enthusiastically. "The movies have nothing on the real thing." How was it that I could feel the smirk on his lips, without giving him another glance?

The entire ride, he rests the palm of his hand on the other side of me. He was close, but not overbearingly so. "I'm glad you came." He says, breaking the comfortable silence we shared.

"Did I have a choice?" I ask, jokingly.

He catches my gaze instantly, wearing a stern expression. "You never have to do anything you don't want to. You know that, right?"

Surprised by his reaction, I grabbed his shoulder. "Of course. I want to be here with you." I drop my hand, coughing lightly. "I mean, I want to be here with everyone. Spending time with everyone. Everyone." I over-correct myself.

"Yes, everyone." He agrees, unable to fight off the laugh, breaking all awkwardness. "Sadly, everyone is not here with us. So, we will be forced to eat with only each other. Nonetheless, we shall pivot and resign to our dinner activities."

"This will be most disappointing, but we shall make the best of it." We laugh and talk for the rest of the gondola ride. 

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