Coffee People - Pedro Pascal by Emma Star

Chapter thirteen, Beauty Is Pain

I haven't had a class trip since I was sixteen years old. Peña insisted on visiting Kalich's local museum with the entire class. The purpose of this visit is still unclear. He just told us to meet him there on Thursday at 15:30, when we normally have class.

As I approach the museum i check my watch, I'm a few minutes early. Thankfully there are already a few people waiting by the door including Miles. I walk up to him and greet him. Everyone, including me, is bundled up in thick coats and big scarves. It's not yet snowing but it will soon enough.

Miles and I chat for a little bit. He asks me about my day and I do the same in return. We don't have to wait long before everyone is assembled and Peña opens the big brass museum door to let us in. He holds it open for us as we pass him. When it's my turn to cross the threshold I look up in to his eyes and politely smile at him. Surprisingly, he smiles back at me.

Our tour guide is a woman in her forties with dark brown hair and big blue spectacles. She guides us through the museum, stopping a few times to inform us about the origin or meaning of the artwork in front of us. I've been here before, but I've never had a tour. You look at an artwork differently once you know the story behind it. The same can be said for people.

~

'Now, the reason I brought you here today is simple' Peña starts, 'I want you all to take in to consideration what you've seen and heard here today and start drafting your next short story.'

We'd finished editing our first short story right before exam week. With feedback from both Peña and our fellow classmates we improved them. We worked in groups of four and exchanged our drafts. I was used to criticism on my work by now so it didn't sting that bad when they picked apart my work just like I did with theirs. It wasn't all bad, we'd pay each other compliments when deserved, but yeah it was tough. My story had changed so much from the first draft and it was all the better for it.

Editing can destroy your spirit at times, but I could never give it all up. Writing is carved in to my bones. It's the very core of me.

'I hope the art has inspired you. You're all free to go wander around on your own or leave if you like.' Peña finishes.

Our group scatters, some people heading for the cloakroom others for the exposition.

Miles turns to me, tells me he has a class to get to and makes his way towards the cloakroom.

It's a weekday so the museum is almost empty except for the few students who decided to stick around.

I venture in to part of the museum the tour guide hasn't shown us. I take in the paintings and the sculptures and let my mind wander. Most of them are from the renaissance period by the looks of it. For every artwork I make up a story behind it. I imagine all the ways the scenes depicted can work out. From tragic love stories to battles for a throne.

A sculpture in the corner of the room catches my attention. I've never seen it before, despite having been here the year before. It is that of a lady brushing her hands through her hair. It's utterly mesmerizing. The delicate stance of her fingers. The texture of her hair. The way her body almost seems to move.

'I thought you might linger.' A voice sounds from a few paces behind me. It's Peña's.

I hadn't heard him approach. I turn my head towards him just as he moves to stand besides me.

'Hi.' I say, not sure how to respond to the statement.

'Not feeling inspired yet?' He asks.

'On the contrary, I have more ideas than I know what to do with.' I smile. 'I just love the art in here.'

He hums in approval. 'You've been here before.' It's a statement not a question.

'Yes.' I confirm. 'It's one of the first places I visited when I moved here.'

'Can I ask you something?' Peña says.

I can feel myself getting nervous. What could he want to ask me?

'Sure.'

'What do you see when you look at this sculpture? What story is behind it?' He asks while looking at the artwork in front of us with genuine interest.

The question isn't at all what I expected.

'Well,' I rip my gaze from Peña's profile and look at the lady carved out of stone again, 'I imagine she's one of the most beautiful women, if not the most beautiful, in her town. She feels the weight of what that means, of the attention she gets, both good and bad. The prejudice people have against her and her beauty. And one night as she's getting ready for bed she fantasizes about cutting all her hair off. To make herself less desirable, less hated. I think this sculpture captures her moment of fantasy.'

It's silent for a second and when I look at Peña he's already looking at me. His eyes soft and his head slightly tilted in wonder.

'What would you call the story?' He asks finally.

I look back at the artwork once more and answer with confidence, 'Beauty is pain.'

'I think you should write it.' Peña says.

'Really?' I say, surprised again by his words.

'Yeah.' He responds with conviction.

'Maybe I will.' I smile at him.

'I look forward to reading it.' He smiles back at me.

Gosh, that mouth.

It's even worse now I know what he can do with it.

We're standing almost shoulder to shoulder, our heads turned towards one another. We moved closer together without noticing. We seem to realize that at the same time, he grins, I blush.

An elderly couple walks in through the doorway to our left. They don't pay us any attention. I'm relieved.

When Peña looks back at me I can see my own thoughts on his face. He's relieved too. It's almost as if we are normal together. Like we're just two people looking at art, their relationship none of anyone's business.

But that's not our reality. The world would never see us as just two people. Only our working status would matter. A professor and his student, scandalous. That's not how we met and as far as I know he's never shows me any favoritism. But that won't matter in the end.

I can see that too reflected on his face. I sigh and walk away. This time he doesn't follow me.

That night I look him up online for the first time. The information available about him is limited to a few portraits and photographs of his two books. One is a novel, the other a short story bundle. I decide to purchase both of them. I tell myself it's for educational purposes, but I've never been a good liar. 

Hi everyone, Thank you so much for reading yet another chapter! As always, give this chapter a little star if you liked it and leave any thoughts in the comments. See you next time! <3