Year 2011
I stand in the darkened room thinking of how the spotlights on the paintings make them all look like photographs, not paintings. I stand beside my three paintings, satisfied with my work and displeased with the art show director’s obvious lack of knowledge.
I watch with anticipation as a pristine looking lady walks towards my paintings, her eyes trained on the middle one.
“The paintings look like photographs in this light, but these! The detailing is immense! The colors are realistic, the balance is like exposure, almost perfection… but the subject.” I didn’t have to be a cameraperson myself to know that this lady is. Talking about detail, and balance. Color isn’t something photographs have tons of, unless its of a painting. If she were a painting person, she’d talk about the ‘grain’ and the mix of colors.
I smile and nod as she continues to talk about my paintings. As she talks I look around the room. Others paintings seem to fit the same theme of mine – hearts. Well I guess this place is called ‘The Hearts House’. They display heart-themed paintings, play heart-themed music, have heart-themed gatherings; they have a bar they call ‘All Lonely Hearts’. It’s technically not part of ‘The Hearts House’ but they cooperate in big heart-related-themed things. Cardiologists even eat for free.
The low ceiling and club-like atmosphere give this place a sense of class. Artists displaying some of they’re recent work, hair and clothes extravagantly done to try and mimic their displayed paintings. Sweetheart necklines, heart shaped dresses, big poufy hair, all in reds, pinks, and purples. The couches are sleek black and I’m surprised people don’t just slide off them. The tables are glass circles being supported by black metal, people’s drinks leaving ring marks on it.
The lady looks at me with an expectant look, and I realize she’s just asked me a question. Just smile and nod. I smile and nod at the woman who then gives me an odd look and slowly walks away, continuously glancing back at me.
“Uptight hair and to much black eye shadow. What does she know?” I look to my right where a handsome dark-skinned man smiles at me. He’s wearing what I’m pretty sure is a polo brand shirt and pleated black pants.
“Yeah, I think she was more into photography or something.” I reply while nodding my head.
“Here with her husband maybe? Or for work.”
“Probably, or a bored housewife whose children are off at college.”
“Judging by her appearance, I’d say you hit the mark.” He turns and smiles at me, “But then again, she could have gotten a face lift.”
I laugh, putting my hand up to my mouth. When Leo and me married we agreed that he could not be around a woman with his shirt off - unless he was at a beach or something similar – and that I could not let a man see my complete smile – unless of course it was my boss, or someone else of similar status. He sounded ridiculous until he explained his reasoning to me.
“The first thing I ever noticed about you was your dazzling smile, it made me want to get to know you. Its what made me fall in love with you.” He had revered with a smile playing on his lips.
“So you don’t love me for me, you love me for my smile?”
“No, no, I fell in love with your smile, I stayed in love with you because of you. Yourself, all that you are.”
I stop smiling and smirk instead so I can remove my hand from my face and look this mysterious man in the face. His eyes sparkle in the dim lighting and his dark-toned olive skin contrasts brightly with his perfect white teeth.
