Glimpses

The Artist

Zhuang looked around the room with a satisfied expression on her face. She had not felt this good in years. This exhibition is going to be a huge success, she thought to herself, and with Meizuo's help, we might just strike gold. She had always been an avid art enthusiast, otherwise why else would she have fallen in love with that struggling artist all those years ago. We almost eloped, she mused, if mother had not thwarted our plans. I wonder what it would have been like if our plan had succeeded. Her thoughts were interrupted by a cheery voice calling out to her.

"Zhuang-jie!" It was Meizuo. They had become very close in recent times, what with him being actively involved in her exhibitions. Her brother and his friends often teased them mercilessly about their light flirtations, as well as knowing Meizuo's penchant for older women. Meizuo did seem a little too interested in her well-being at times, but Zhuang wasn't sure if she was ready for another relationship just yet, not when she had just divorced that scumbag which her mother had forced her to marry. Meizuo gave her one of his dazzling smiles and despite herself, she found that her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He did look really good in that white turtleneck, she thought to herself.

"I have another proposal for you," she heard him say. "Check out this up-and-coming new artist which my company recently discovered. I think we could put on a fantastic exhibition with his work." She flipped open the folder which he handed to her and drew a sharp breath. If earlier her heart had skipped a beat, it now sank all the way down to her 3-inch Louboutins, the very same pair which she had run away to elope in all those years ago. She couldn't bring herself to wear them again after that day, until recently. What was he doing back in Shanghai? How can this be? Her mind started spinning with a gazillion questions. "I've set up a meeting with him," she heard Meizuo continue. "He'll be here at 10 am tomorrow. I've got to run now, but see you tomorrow morning and let me know what you think when you've met him!" Her mind was still reeling from what she just heard, so when she suddenly found her voice, it was only to speak to Meizuo's handsome white-cladded back as he left the room. Zhuang let out a sigh. The heck with it, she thought. I'm over him, anyway.

The next day, she was nervous as she prepared for her meeting. She hadn't heard from him since that fateful day when he had never turned up, when he had made the choice to walk out of her life forever. She had contemplated calling Meizuo to cancel the meeting, but then decided not to. It's just a meeting, breathe in and out, you'll be fine. She composed herself and waited for them to arrive. Then she saw him walking in with Meizuo. He still looked the same, but with greying hair in his temples. He stopped short when he saw her, his eyes glazing over. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Zhuang stood up and extended a stiff hand. He had frozen like a statue, looking at her hand held out to him. However he managed to shake her hand limply and they all sat down at the conference table. Meizuo looked at the silent exchange between them curiously. "Let's get this meeting started," he said. "We're very keen to collaborate with you on this exhibition. Can you tell us more about your work?" He signaled to his assistant to bring in their morning coffee.

The artist then spoke, in a soft ragged voice. "All my life, I have been inspired by one person. She made me feel alive and loved, and I created my art for her alone." As he spoke, he looked at Zhuang. He gave a wane smile and continued. "But what can I say? Artists are fickle, temperamental, carried by the wind. I hurt the one person whom I loved most and I have never forgiven myself for it. Even now, as I am on the brink of being famous, she still continues to inspire my work. As Leonardo da Vinci once said, art is never finished, only abandoned. And that is what I did, I abandoned the one person whom I truly loved." Zhuang had been avoiding his gaze and she had not uttered a word as he was speaking. Then there came a soft knock on the door - the assistant had come back with the coffee. Hearing that knock, something inside Zhuang just snapped. It was almost as if that knock was the trigger, the catalyst which released the sudden burst of emotions that came over her. All the hurt, regret, anger and frustration came flooding back and overwhelmed, she ran out of the room, almost toppling the surprised assistant who was standing in the doorway.

Alarmed, Meizuo ran after her. He called after her but she was nowhere in sight. After several minutes of frantic searching, he was taken aback when he found her sobbing in the stairwell. He had never before seen this side of her, as to him she was always the strong, superhero type, always in control. Her vulnerability now shook him and a strange sense of wanting to protect her came over him. He took her in his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do. "I'm sorry," he heard her choke out. "I thought I was strong enough after all these years, but I can't do it, I just can't. I no longer love him, but seeing him again has awoken all those painful feelings." "Shhh" he whispered to her. "No I'm the one who's sorry, I should have known, been more sensitive. We won't do the exhibition, I promise. You matter more to me than the exhibition."

Hearing his words, Zhuang looked up at him. He gazed into her tear-stained lovely brown eyes and all the meaningless flirtations of the several months before didn't seem so meaningless anymore. He may not have known it then, but with her in his arms and their eyes locked on each other, he knew it now. Still holding her in his embrace, he kissed her. She was startled at first, but her fears, worries and pain melted away while being held by him and she kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him in return. This feels right, she thought. I lost the one I loved then, so I could find the one I love now.

The stairwell was freezing on that winter morning, but they didn't feel the cold, with the warmth radiating between them as they held each other close.