Red String [h.s] (Completed)

Chapter 55

"My shadows dancing without you for the first time
My heart is hoping you'll walk right in tonight
And tell me that there are things that you regret
'Cause if I'm being honest I ain't over you yet
And it's all I'm asking, is it too much to ask?"

Harry touches down in Paris in the afternoon and heads to his hotel with Tom. He lets his friend know that he's landed and they decide to meet at the gallery. Tom calls the car service for him and they head to the lobby. He flew in private and has managed to escape any attention thus far. He arrives at the gallery and is ushered in through a back entrance. His friend Andrew is already waiting for him with the curator, a man in his forties with salt and pepper hair and horn rimmed glasses.

The exhibition that Andrew wants Harry to see is only on display for a month here and it's already three weeks into its run. Harry finds great inspiration in seeing what other artists create. He has tried painting a few times in his life but was never satisfied with what he created. The last few months he has dedicated more time to it, even setting up a home art studio. He has Amy's paintings on the wall. They act as both a positive and negative reminder that he experienced real love once.

He walks through the gallery listening to the curator talk. A few people have recognized him and he notices them taking sneaky photographs. As usual, he continues on, trying not to be bothered by the lack of privacy his life has. They enter the area where the main exhibition is being held and Harry begins looking at the work displayed on the walls. He feels a lump forming in the back of his throat. His chest tightening. His mouth suddenly dry.

"This artist is in the country for a short time so we feel very lucky to have her paintings displayed. She is an American artist and her name is..." the curator speaks.

"Amy Bernier," Harry says interrupting him, walking closer to look more carefully at her paintings.

"You're familiar with her work?"

"Very," he says as he gets closer to a different piece. "And she's Canadian, not American."

Harry cannot believe that this is the artist that his friend Andrew wanted him to come and see. The universe seems to be working for him again. Andrew isn't familiar with Amy. He didn't tell many people about his relationship. He likes to keep his personal stuff in a pretty tight social circle so he never has to fear it leaking to the press.

Her paintings are a bit different than before. He can still recognize them, as if he was there with her when she created them but there's a maturity to them now. When he felt like her paintings before expressed simple emotions, she now seems to be expressing something more complex. One, a simple street level view of Paris buildings, feels desolate and lonesome. Another of a garden full of bright sunflowers feels melancholic instead of cheerful. He examines each and every painting in the room hoping to get a glimpse into Amy's present. He doesn't see any joy in any of them.

"Where else have you seen her work?" Andrew asks.

"Vancouver. I went to her show there. I actually own some of her pieces."

"No kidding?! I met her last week and she's one of the nicest people. She is usually here at the gallery. Have you met her? I'm sure she'd say hi to you."

Before Harry can protest, Andrew is speaking with the curator in hushed French. Harry is not sure whether he wants to see her or not. No, actually, Harry is sure that he wants to see her but he isn't sure if she would want to see him.

As Harry waits for the curator to come back, he feels like he is going to hyperventilate. His heart begins to race. His hands are getting clammier by the second. He starts pacing the room, playing with the rings on his fingers.