During my lunchbreak, I return to the gallery, filled with both trepidation and determination. No one is in the gallery when I arrive, but my presence is alerted by a bell. I need to speak to Madeleine, just not in front of Josh.
Within a few moments, Madeleine appears through the door at the back. I have no idea if she’ll recognise me, so I stand my ground, studying one of the paintings on the wall as I wait for her to approach me.
“Can I help you?” she asks. “Are you looking for something or just browsing?”
I push my hair behind my ears and turn to face her. She smiles, but when her eyes widen and she rocks from toe to heel, I know she recognises me. “Emerson?”
I nod. “Long time no see,” I say, feeling both happy and desperately sad.
“Oh my goodness. I can’t believe it’s really you. I thought you’d have shown up years ago.”
“I’m sorry. I . . .” My determination has left me, and I’m now stuttering words while I wade through my frazzled thoughts.
“Come to my office.” She places her hand on my back and ushers me to the back of the gallery and through the door.
Her office is a chaotic mess of canvases, paint pots, half-finished sketches, and paperwork piled high on every surface. A large, glass desk takes centre stage, and the chair behind it is more like a throne.
“When did you arrive in Melbourne?” she asks once we’re seated.
“Oh. Well.” This is so awkward. “Five years ago.”
“What?” Her eyes widen with the disbelief I was anticipating. “Why has it taken you so long to look me up?”
I chew my bottom lip until I’m about to draw blood. “I didn’t exactly look you up,” I reply honestly. “I’m still in shock that I’ve ended up taking an art class at all, let alone one in your gallery.”
“You were the girl last night who didn’t look at me when we were introduced.”
I nod. “I was shocked to see you and panicked. I’m sorry. That was rude.”
“Why on earth would you panic, sweetheart? I don’t understand.” She shifts forward in her seat, props her elbow on the armrest, and leans forward. “Why didn’t you call me when you moved to the city? I could’ve helped you.”
“Why do you think I needed help?” I ask, defensively.
She takes a deep breath and sighs. “You’ve lived here for five years, and you’re taking an art therapy class. I could be jumping to conclusions, but something tells me you could’ve used a friendly face.”
I don’t know what to say to that. It’s true that I haven’t thrived in the city, but she was a big part of my most painful memory, and I never planned on seeing her again.
“The girl you met five years ago is long gone. I’m not the naïve teenager with stars in her eyes, and I’d really appreciate you keeping our connection between us. I don’t want Josh or anyone else in the class knowing about the silly dreams of my past life.”
“Why are you doing Josh’s class if you’ve turned your back on your passion and your incredible talent?”
“His class is just an itch I felt like scratching. I certainly didn’t seek it out.”
“I think Josh would love to know who you are. Actually, he—”
I cut her off. “Please, Madeleine. I know it seems strange to you, but I don’t talk about my past with anyone, and I’d appreciate you respecting that.”
She stands and moves over to a stained-oak sideboard. Picking up a jug of water, she pours two glasses. “If you’re not pursuing your dreams, what do you do?” She raises an eyebrow, and I feel as if she’s looking straight into my soul. It’s disarming, and I squirm uncomfortably in my seat.
“I recently started working at Carrie’s Cupcakes just up the street.”
“Oh. How long have you been there?”
“Not long.”
She looks pensive. “So you happened to take a job up the street from my gallery, but you’ve never been in here. I’ve been away for the past two months, otherwise I might’ve run into you sooner.”
I shake my head.
“I feel like maybe you wanted this to happen, Emerson.”
“What do you mean? I lost your card. I had no idea it was your gallery.”
She holds up her hands defensively. “Look, I meant it when I said I would help you in any way I could. At the time, I meant with contacts and maybe some mentoring, but I think now you need someone to listen.”
“Did you sell my drawing?” I ask. Ironically, I hope she was never able to find a buyer.
“I bought it as a gift for a friend.” Her eyes softened. “I did consider keeping it, figuring it was a good investment. I believed you’d be a famous artist one day and that I’d have one of your originals.”
“You gave it away?”
She nods. “I gave it to Josh.”
“Josh the art teacher?” I ask, shocked.
“The one and only,” she replies. “That’s who I bought it for. I mentored him through his studies, and I believe we have a special bond. When his father passed away, God rest his soul, Josh practically lived in my gallery, and I ended up giving him a job. When I came back from the trip where I’d met you, it was his job to unpack the artwork I had accumulated on my travels.”
I take a long sip of water, trying hard to process what she’s saying.
“When he came across your drawing, he stopped and stared at it for so long. Then, for the first time since his father died, he smiled, and I knew it had made the impact I hoped it would.”
I suck in a deep breath.
“I’ll never forget his words.” She fixes me with her gaze. “He said it made him feel hopeful.”
“I can’t believe it. I honestly just can’t believe it.”
“What happened to you, Emerson?” Her eyes are soft, and her words are whispered. “You were so full of life and passion when I met you five years ago. I’ve thought of you so many times over the years and wondered if you’d ever call.”
I pause, unable to tell her because I don’t tell anyone. “Life happened.” I stand and give her a strained smile. “Please don’t tell Josh about me or the drawing.”
“I’ll respect your wishes, but Josh is a good man—a phenomenal artist and tutor. Open your mind and your heart again. You never know what might happen in the big city.”
I reach for my bag. “It was good to see you again, Madeleine.”
“Emerson?” She calls out as I’m about to open the door, and I turn back to face her. “Whatever happened to the boy you were with then? What was his name? Malaki? I guess he isn’t a boy any longer, but I remember the way he looked at you like you were the centre of his universe.”
“Mereki,” I correct her, swallowing the enormous lump in my throat. I place my hand over my heart. “He’s here with me.” I walk out the door and allow the tears to stream down my face as I move through the gallery. I step onto the street swiping at my face, taking some deep breaths as I stare up at the night sky. Mereki had told me I’d drawn a guide to my own happiness, but I never thought I’d need it again with him by my side. Now another man possesses my roadmap, and he has no clue what it means to me. That drawing was created with love and sold with hope, but my life was ruined because of it.
Crossing the road, I glance up and see two magpies attacking each other. The screeching is like fingernails running down a blackboard, and I cup my ears in an attempt to block it out. With the sound muffled, I can’t help but watch their violent behaviour. It’s a welcome escape from my own torment. Since when did I will others to suffer for my own selfish escapism?
In the next shocking moment, one of the black and white birds crashes to the concrete right in front of me, battered and bloody. The victor’s screeches fade away into the distance while the victim stares directly at me before giving up its fight for life. Revolted, I retch and only just manage to make it to the slip of grass a few feet away before gracelessly emptying the contents of my stomach.