Breathe (3 page)

Being alone with him was awkward. We stood in silence for a few minutes, listening to the buzz around us. 

‘So you have paintings here as well?’ He broke the silence first, and I felt relieved.

‘
Yes, some of them.’ I was afraid my voice would shake, but it sounded natural. Like this is a normal thing to do. Standing and talking to a person you have fantasised about.

‘
I would like to see them.’

‘
I can show you,’ I answered a little to fast. I was out of my league here. Maybe if I just threated this as a dream, then some how I could get through it without passing out. I started walking towards my cave, and he followed me closely. A little to closely, I could feel his breath down my neck. The tingling down my spline was making me crazy.

I didn’t know I was holding my breath until we reach the room and found it empty. I wondered if anyone had been in here at all, but then I notice a red dot under one of the paintings, indicating that it had been sold. I didn’t know how I felt about that, because my feelings right now was only focused on the man who followed me in. He asked about the purple one first, the one called
Ice
. It was inspired by the place I grew up.

‘Is it a mountain range?’ he asked, because the shapes were so subtle you almost didn’t see it.

‘Yes, in the wintertime. Where I grew up the mountains rises high straight from the ocean, and some days it is difficult to see where the water ends and the rock begins.’

‘It looks beautiful, calming.
Where are you from?’

’A small village north in Norway,’
I said.

‘I thought all of Norway was north’ he smiled, making me more relaxed.

‘Yes, I suppose to you Englishmen it is’ I laughed. ‘But Norway is a stretched out country, and there is a difference in the landscape of the north and south. I think the north have more drama in the surroundings, more contrast in nature. Of course there is probably mountain range like this on the west coast as well, but these shapes are from my home.’

We were moving to the corner were a
blue and yellow painting called
Melancholy
hung, and he was standing behind my, looking over my shoulder to read some letters written on the bottom part of the painting.    

‘
Omnia mutantur, nihil interit
’ he said slowly. ‘Is it Latin?’

‘
Yes, it means
Everything changes, nothing perishes
,’ I explained, trying not to be overwhelmed by his closeness. His chin touched my shoulder, and as I finished explaining, he moved his face sideways, so his nose stroked my neck. I could smell him, a sweet scent mixed with cologne and whiskey. It mesmerized me, and I whished I could harvest it to a bottle and treasure it.  

‘
Is this your favourite?’ he whispered in my ear, and I could feel my heart racing. I tried to answer, but no sound comes out, so I nod slightly.

‘
It’s beautiful and sad. You smell good.’

He did not just say that?
I exhaled, and turned my head slowly to look into his eyes. He didn’t move away, but saw it as an invitation to kiss my lips. I was shocked by his motion, but couldn’t resist kissing him back. I closed my eyes and let the sensation take me. My body turned toward him. My hand moved around his neck. He does the same, pulling me closer. I was flying. I didn’t care where I was or if this was right or not. It felt right. Besides, this was just a dream, right? My heart beat painfully, and my body ached for more, pushing myself closer to him. I wanted this.

But then
reality checks in. I heard footsteps close by, and was reminded of the hall filled with people. One of them being his wife.
This isn’t right.
He must have thought the same, cause he backs off the same time I do.

‘
I’m sorry, Sara. I don’t know what got into me.’ He was out of breath too. ‘I apologize, I didn’t mean to…’ he continued but I held my hands up to stop him while backing away.

‘
I have to go. This… I... We don’t even know each other,’ I stuttered.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, but I shook my head in response. This wasn’t happening.

‘I have to go,’ I exclaim, and turn around to escape the room. The crowed had lessened, and I passed Alice on the way towards the entrance.

‘
Alice, hi. I need to go. Can you please tell Mary-Ann that I’m not feeling well?’

I didn’t wait for an answer, but kept going towards the entrance. I got my jacket
quickly and went for the doors feeling tears well up in my eyes. I bit my lip to hold them back.  Reaching for the door, I bumped into someone, and was about to apologize when I saw who it was. I was staring into the blue eyes of Julia von Berg Petrelli. I felt her stare as I pushed myself out into the rain.

«Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out,

but to see who ca
res enough to break them down.»
- Socrates

I wo
ke up feeling awful. When I came home last night, I went straight to bed, not even bothering to remove my makeup. But instead of sleeping, I kept twisting and turning. I couldn’t understand what happened. First of all, he is married. Second, I’m nobody. Thirdly, he didn’t know me. Fourth, it didn’t need to be a fourth, this was stupid. And surreal!
Kissing a stranger. Who does that!
When I finally fell asleep, he was there, haunting my dreams.

I was in the kitchen trying to wake up with a coffee when the phone rang.

‘
Hallo?’ My voice was rough.

‘
Hey, Sara, is that you? Did I wake you?’ Mary-Ann sounded chipper trough the phone. I turned to face the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. The time was just past 9 AM.
I need more sleep.

‘
Sara, are you there?’

‘
Yes, I’m sorry. What’s up?’ I walk over to the window to let some sun try to convince my body that it was daytime. The storm had passed, revealing a beautiful spring day. It was Saturday, and I had plans to meet Alice for some reckless shopping downtown.

‘
How are you feeling, darling? Alice said you didn’t feel well?’ Mary-Ann said. She didn’t sound worried, though.

‘
No, I’m fine. Just a little tired, it was a long day.’

‘
It was a good day. But you left before I got to tell you how the sale went.’

‘
I saw the red dot before I left. How did the others do?’

‘
Kiro sold all of them, of course. Una and Mark a couple of pieces each. Rachel sold three. But you sold all of them too.’

‘
What?’ My mind wasn’t working properly yet. ‘All of them?’

‘
Yes, although I’m not sure of
Melancholy
and
Ice
. The buyer had some stipulations.’

‘
What kind of stipulations?’ I sounded sceptical, not sure how unusual that was. This was my first sell ever.

‘
First, let me tell you who bought the other ones.
Second wave
was sold to De Luka.
Lost
by a Mr Carter. I think he is some kind of lawyer, so the real buyer is probably anonymous.’

I heard her
rattling some papers while talking. I knew De Luka, he was a patriarch for the University, and collected student art. And I knew a Mr Carter, working for the local branch of Bradford and Benner. Alfred, my fathers’ lawyer, works for the same firm in Oslo. Alfred was the one who set me up with this apartment, and helped me with all the finances.
I wonder if the real buyer is… No, best not to dwell on that
!

‘
So what are the stipulations?’ I was curious despite my lack of proper sleep.

‘
Oh, darling! This is so fun. The buyer wants to meet you and see more of your work.’

‘
Why?’ I ask confused, and I hear her laugh at me. It made me annoyed. I wasn’t a morning person, and this was one of these days.

‘Sara, it’s not unusual for buyers to ask that of new artist. Besides, I don’t think you will mind. I saw you talking to him yesterday.’ She stopped talking, savouring the moment. My stomach started to twist. This couldn’t be good.

‘
So, who is it?’ I ask, a little grumpier than necessary. 

‘
It’s the actor, Christopher Petrelli.’ She waited for my response.

What the hell
! This is insane. I redo the numbering. Firstly, he’s married, and this seems like a lame excuse to see me again. Second, I’m nobody, he don’t have a reason to see me again. Thirdly, did I mention that he is married!

‘
Hello… Sara? Are you still there? Can I tell them you accept?’

‘
I don’t think I can. He is married.’             

‘
God, Sara, it’s not a date. You’re an artist. He wants to see your paintings, not get in your pants.’ She started to laugh, probably of the absurdity of it. I wished I had stayed in bed.

‘
I don’t know, Mary-Ann. I will have to think about it.’

‘
What’s there to think about? I can come too if you want.’

‘
No, that’s not necessary. Just let me think about it, ok? I will text you later today.’

We hung up after that, and my mind was swirling. He had bought two of my paintings. Why? Because he kissed me? Did he want to meet me so he could make sure I didn’t run to the tabloids? Like I would ever seek out that kind of attention. I stood by the kitchen window, watching people running through Kensington Gardens. My apartment was on the seventh floor of a building situated at the corner of Hyde Park. The view from the living room and kitchen windows were amazing. Maybe I should go for a run, clear my head. Why does he want to meet me? I couldn’t let it go. I didn’t think the paintings were the reason. I didn’t buy it! So what could be the reason? Maybe he wanted to explain himself. He should! He initiated the kiss. I couldn’t help myself. This was all his doing. I didn’t want to see him again. I pick up my phone to text Mary-Ann. Then my mind started processing last night. How gorgeous he looked. How good he smelled. How his lips tasted. I didn’t care why he wanted to come. I wanted to see him again. I was already hooked.
But that’s not a good thing!
I argued myself.
Maybe its best to stay away.
Gah! This was getting my nowhere. Instead of texting Mary-Ann, I found the number for Alice and let her know that I was ready in a couple of hours. Then I went to the bedroom to change to running gear.  

‘Have a nice run, miss Nord.’

The
porter, Frank, held the door for me as I came downstairs. I had given up trying to make him call me Sara. He was from Kenya, but spoke perfect English, and was always helpful and polite. It felt safe to live in a building with 24hour porter service, though it also felt a bit grand. But Alfred put me in this apartment because it was close to the university and owned by B&B, and I didn’t turn down free lodging in this neighbourhood. I put on my sunglasses and earplugs, and looked up to the clear sky. I was determent to make today a perfect day.

I forgot to text Mary-Ann. After my run, and the afternoon with Alice, I fell asleep on the couch watching some mindless sit-com. Alice had been tiresome, asking about why I left so suddenly and what I thought about Christopher and Andrew. I tried to be evasive, and directed the conversations over to her. I was exhausted

I spent all Sunday painting, trying hard to block out any thoughts of
Christopher. Being in my studio always relaxed me and cleared my mind. I hadn’t even thought about Mary-Ann until she called me Monday morning.

‘
Sara, I’m still waiting on your answer. Have you made up your mind?’

I ha
d tried not to think about it. I didn’t tell her that.

‘
I’m sorry, Mary-Ann. I forgot.’

‘
You forgot that a movie star wanted to see your paintings?’ she laughed. I didn’t care to respond.

‘
Well, they didn’t. His assistant called me both yesterday and the day before that, to hear your answer. I was told to emphasize that she would join him if that helps. I told her you were still considering. So, can I tell them you agree?’

I ha
dn’t really decided that. I didn’t understand his angle. What did he want? But I longed to see him again. And if he didn’t come alone, he wouldn’t be such a temptation. It might be ok... I told her yes. But they had to call in advance, to make sure I was here. At least that was the reason I gave Mary-Ann. The truth was I needed to be prepared.  

The call came a couple of hours later. A woman called Anna Turner was on the other line asking if they could come the next day, Tuesday, around noon. They gave me less than a day to prepared, so I spent the rest of Monday afternoon cleaning the apartment. Honestly, it wasn’t that much work. I had an ex-boyfriend who taught me to keep things tidy, and the habit stayed. My studio though, was another story. I had paintings everywhere. Some finished and some half painted. Sometimes I get stuck on a piece, so I put it to the side and work on something else until inspiration hits again. I used a couple of hours hiding them and tidying up. Paint bottles, brushes and palettes went into a small closet by the window. I choose which pieces to show him, and stacked the other ones away. Tuesday morning was spent trying to find the right outfit. I must have changes at least five times. It was stupid, I know. But whatever his intentions were, I wanted to look good. The last thing I put on was black pants and a red tunic with wide arms and high neckline. I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to hard. I tried to look professional. I even gathered my hair in a knot and applied light make-up. Nothing over-the-top.