Life in Paintings

Chapter 33 - Café Terrace at Night

Chapter 33 – Café Terrace at Night

It's the evening and I appear in the middle of a paved road. It looks like a quaint little street, with yellow lights coming out of the windows of the building surrounding the area. Everything is stone and wood.

People are walking around, chatting amongst themselves. There's a little café with people gathered at tables, drinking happily, sipping on coffee and tea and wine. Even if the streets aren't empty there's a gentle quietness about this place. It's peaceful. The sky is beautiful, I can see so many stars.

I think about maybe going to the café and ordering something, but I realize I don't have any money. Maybe I can order and run away before they bring me to bill. They wouldn't find me afterwards. But I don't know if I have to pay up front here. I'm wearing a small gold chain. Maybe I should paw it to be able to buy stuff. I never had to think about money before. The only time I had to pay for stuff Gustave paid. Or Tanya did.

I should forget about buying coffee, and instead look around some more.

There's a red headed man standing behind an easel, painting on a canvas beside the café. I make my way to him, curious, He must be the one painting this scene.

I try not to go to close to him, and sort of pass him and go stand behind.

Holy shit.

I'm seeing the painting. I know this painting. I know who this is.

What do I do? I should talk to him. Oh my god, I can't talk to him. What do I say? What can I say?

I try to keep my freaking out in check and I walk up to the man, and clear my throat to get his attention. He turns. "I'm sorry, are you Vincent Van Gogh?" I ask.

He looks a little worried before answering with a hesitant "yes." Oh my god. "Do I know you?" he asks.

"Oh no, you don't. But I know you. You're really talented," I say, probably a little too enthusiastically.

A random woman he doesn't know just came up with him, knew his name and probably looks and sound like a freak.

I need to seriously calm down.

"Did someone put you up to this?" he asks.

"No, no! I'm honest." How can I explain this without sounding like a lunatic? "I've seen some of your paintings before. They're really, really good. You should keep on painting, and you shouldn't worry what people say, and about people not buying your stuff right now, trust me, in no time you'll be very famous."

"Who put you up to this? Are you here to make fun of me? Are you confused?" he says.

People didn't like him in the places he lived. They all thought he was weird. He must think I think that too, and I'm just playing around with him.

How can I convince him? I'm not an authority on painting, but maybe someone else. Wait...

"We're in France, right?"

"Do you not even know where you are?"

I ignore this. Let him think whatever he wants. "France?" I repeat.

"Yes we're in Arles." Arles? Where is that?

"How far from Paris are we?"

"Pretty far."

That's fine, that's okay. It's still the right country. And Tanya told me people remember him, so he must be known in some way...

"Okay, what year is this?"