Saying Goodbye

8: Deborah Williams

I checked my watch, seeing the time was 7:58. Almost show time. Just two more minutes, then it starts. Two more minutes, I thought.

"So, it's almost time." I said to Sam, standing next to me.

"Yeah, I guess it is." He replied, glancing at me, then to his watch. 

"What do we do after that?" I asked, looking at him with wonder.

"We have to wait. At 4:00 they announce the winner. I'll be a long day of waiting and sitting around." He said, sliding his back down the wall until the hit the floor, resting his head in his hand.

"Well, in that case, can I see your art?" I asked him, sitting down next to him.

"Sure. Follow me." He said, holding his hand out to help me back up.

*          *          *

I looked around, attempting to find his art. I wondered what it might be. A painting, a sculpture? I was unsure. 

"Here it is." He said to me, pointing to an extremely elaborate piece of art. It was a large splatter-painted lion, on one of the largest canvases I'd ever seen. The lines on the paint were splattered outward, creating a sort of spiral. The lion's jaws were outstretched and wide open. I traced the lines of the lion's fur with my fingertips, staring in awe. 

"It's amazing, huh? How such a blank canvas can become one of the greatest things you've ever seen. I've never seen chalk art as good as yours. It's amazing, actually." He commented, looking towards me as I continued to keep my gaze locked on the beautiful lion. 

"I love this. It's amazing. I've never seen anything like this in my life. I mean, this paining is bigger than even I am. It's outstanding-" I stopped, realizing that I was literally complimenting my opponent's art. Although, it was really amazing. I'm going to have some great competition.

"Thank you. I've been working on this, day and night. I painted for hours and hours, non-stop. I would get so tired, and fall asleep next to it. I could never stop. It was becoming time-consuming. I took most of the time out of my days to work on it. But in the end, it was all worth it." He placed a hand on the nose of the lion, looking straight into it's eyes. "I named it Ruggito del Leone. It means 'lion's roar' in Italian."

I looked into the eyes of the lion, seeing it's menacing glare. I dragged my finger across the lines of the mane, feeling the gentle stroke of where the brush had once been. The multiple colors flourished with oranges, reds and bright yellows. The hot look of the colors brought warmth to me.

"It's really something." I said, looking to him. He looked back, his blue eyes bright. I looked away, feeling my face become warmer. I recoiled my hand, removing it from the painting. 

I wonder, why had he joined the competition? Was it for the prize? The experience? The feeling of winning? I had never felt any of these feelings myself, only because I had never entered a competition before. 

I glanced back at my watch, impatiently. 7:59, It read. I sighed, looking away and back up to him. He smiled down to me. I quickly looked away, embarrassed. My face felt hot, I placed a hand on my cheek, feeling the heat. 

I found that my eyes returned to the painting, my face turned to a smile. We stood there a moment longer, before an announcement drew our attention away from the painting. The moment I had been waiting for my whole life had finally come. I turned my head in the direction of the blaring sound causing me to jump.

"Thank you for attending today's art gallery competition. We will now begin with sending the judges around to view all the artwork. The results will be announced at 4:00 exactly, so be sure to stick around. Again, we thank you for joining us today and hope you enjoy your time here." A man spoke. I lingered on the thought that the judges were already viewing our work. My work. 

I felt sick, but held it in. I looked back to Sam, who was still observing is own artwork. 

I mumbled softy, "I'm going to go look around some." He looked down at me, smiling. 

"Alright. I guess I'll see you later then?" His hair glistened in the light indoors, almost distracting me from the words that had just came from his mouth.

I hesitated, wondering if it would make me even more nervous being next to him. "Sure thing." I added a smile.

I wandered off, looking at other artwork. They were all so different and interesting. Some were paintings, like Sam's, and others were as diverse as a sculpture out of scrap metal or even a recreation of the Eiffel Tower using toothpicks. It was addicting almost. It made things worse. I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of nervousness. I ran to the quickest bathroom, without hesitation. I knew I would vomit.

*          *          *

I left the bathroom, wiping saliva from my lips. I needed something in my stomach, since I had just emptied it all nervously. I glanced around, but nothing. I felt my stomach grumble, becoming louder and louder by the second. I continued wandering off, looking around frantically for food. Anything. Something to take my mind off this feeling of sickness.

I guess I'm just not set out for this kind of thing, I thought. Maybe this wasn't the best idea I had in mind.

I found myself walking past multiple things, but one thing out of all of the other things had me worried. A woman of early twenties, was standing proudly next to a large masterpiece. An inked drawing of an elderly man, in full detail, down to the very wrinkle and highlight on the nose and forehead. 

Staggering slightly out of sickness, I inhaled and sighed.