The events environment was cool, classy and sophisticated. Sheenah breathed wealth around her, with the ladies around her in long expensive gowns, she felt out of place. Everyone seemed to be dripping in assets and finesse.
"People exaggerate art events." Sheenah remarked, trying to justify their underdressed selves.
"Or maybe, you just don't know the fashion to such events." Tash winked. "Art is expensive, classy and sophisticated. Just like this gown."
"Stop lying. That's totally not the definition of art, because how then would you explain street art, that thing is totally away from expensive classy sophistication, but it's still art."
"Oh Kendy, you're missing the point." Tash defended. "I meant..."
"That we should get going." Lilly butted in. "We're attracting attention."
And true, people were staring at them, all with different expressions, but mostly, admirations. They were admirably beautiful, even among the expensive dressed females in the room.
"Whose exhibition is this again?" Tash asked, observing a black and white portrait of a man, holding a jembe. "He seems really famous."
"He is." Lilly declared, beaming. "Reigner, you don't know him?"
They all shook their heads, causing Lilly to beam even more, like she was taking a delight in knowing the artist when they didn't. "He is really famous, we even have a portrait piece of one of his works at home. Dad loves that piece."
They looked around, Sheenah noting that he really had a way with brush. His works were good, really good.
They spoke.
She was particularly entranced with a piece, a beautiful black woman, letting go of a child's hand, who was crying. The piece captivated her so much that she did not notice each of her friends disappear to go wander and even the guy who seemed as captivated by her and was standing some meters from her. Maybe it was in the fact that it was somehow speaking to her. Somehow relatable to her. She began wondering, had she cried when her mother left? Did she have the look of sadness that the woman in the piece had? Or was she too glad to throw the piece of garbage that she was away?
She tried touching it, running her fingers on the canvas. She traced the child's face carefully - his runny nose, pressed her left forefinger on his dark eye. His face was round, the cheeks full and plump. He had a wide nose, and his eyelashes were slightly wet from tears she assumed. He was a beautiful child. Sheenah had tried to be careful with her movements, making them as light as possible. However as soon as she removed her finger from the child's crying face, the piece came tumbling down, falling with a flump. The room had not been gravely silent, but her squeak had resonated all around, earning her an audience. She apologized silently, gasping at the stares and glares aimed her way. She wished she could vanish.
She felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, and turned to look around trying to find a familiar face. She needed Lilly or Kendy; hell even Tash who would have of course called her stupid or something of the sort. But it would have been better than the eyes that were trained on her, the look on the people's faces full of displeasure. Her eyes caught a sign at the furthest corner of the room, near the entrance and her wish to vanish intensified. The words "please do not touch" were written in bold letters. How could she have been that ignorant and stupid! Of course the art pieces were not to be touched. God she was such a disappointment.
Stupid. Ignorant.
Disappointment.
Failure.
The words echoed in her head continuously. Banging like the beat of a drum. She could never get anything right it seemed. Simple reading. Simple surgery. Simple relationship. She ruined everything. Maybe that was the reason nobody stayed. Sheenah knelt down, apologizing to no one in particular and tried picking up the portrait. She did the mistake of looking around and the eyes appeared closer this time. The scrutiny was more intense, the judgement and disgust more visible, brighter and almost colorful it seemed. She silently gasped, and looked frantically around, trying to find something. The room was closing in on her, her throat suddenly became tight, her eyes became blurry, there was now a whirring sound in her ears and the eyes in the room kept moving closer to her, determined to cage her. She dropped her gaze and whimpered, thinking of how pathetic she was.
YOU ARE READING
Stereotypes
General Fiction"Free yourself." To some she was just a pretty doctor. To others she was a young successful woman who life had been good to. To few she was a broken soul that was trying to pick up her broken pieces. There was always an idea of what Sheenah was, or...
