The Shadow That Smiled At Me

Chapter twenty six

Annabelle invited me to the gallery for the opening of an exhibition by an artist whose name I do not know and have no interest in knowing or remembering. I honestly didn't want to go there in the slightest, but I told myself that she was my father's friend and it would be better if she kept the illusion of my life in New York that I had presented to my parents, so I decided to accept her invitation.

It was mid-April. The evening of the exhibition came and I immediately regretted the promise of my participation. But it couldn't be undone and it would be rude not to show up, so I reluctantly got out of bed and went into the shower.

My whole body was stiff and sore from days and nights spent in bed, awake in a world that no one knows about. The hot water worked like a miracle cure for the muscles of my mortal body. Trapped in a body that withers is a worse punishment than eternal damnation.

I came out washed, like new, and went to get ready. I put on a dark blue dress with a wide knee-length skirt, in which stars were embroidered with silver thread. They sparkled when the light hit it. A dress made from the night sky. My ears were decorated with earrings, one in the shape of a moon and the other in the shape of a star. I washed my hair to show the beautiful dangling earrings. Silver eye shadows added to my otherworldliness. Although it was warm during the day, it was already cold in the evening, so I threw a gray fur coat over my shoulders and was ready. I set out on a journey.

I got into a taxi that took me to the exact place Annabelle told me. I was a few minutes late, thanks to the traffic in the city. Actually, it didn't bother me much, as I said before; I woke up in a grumpy mood. Every second of ordinary human life annoyed me. I didn't belong here. I didn't even bother to inform Annabelle of my tardiness.

In front of the building, there was a crowd of people constantly flowing, in and out, back and forth. I made my way past the smokers blowing wisps of foul-smelling smoke, stinging my nose. Among the people standing in front of the entrance, there were conversations completely unrelated to the exhibition - for example, how great the pizza is in the newly opened pizzeria not far from there, or a group of girls talking about the new collection of dresses from a well-known brand. Most of those topics were either superficial or hungry.

Upon entering, the young girl put down the fur coat for me. I was surprised by how many people came here tonight to admire the art. I could clearly distinguish artists who came to support and view another artist's work, art critics with their disdainful expressions convinced of their superiority and importance, and rich people who came just to stroke their egos by showing how much money is in their bank account. The stereotypical type of people, each thinking too much of themselves, laughing and sipping champagne.

I definitely didn't fit in there. With my instability, every second different, never the same.

I walked around the broken gallery, looking at the paintings hanging on the snow-white walls. The whole interior was white; it looked like a hospital, so gloomy and sterile. Even human laughter could not lighten the oppressive atmosphere that ruled the place.

Those works hanging on the walls were, in my opinion, nothing worthy of recognition and admiration. The exhibition was called From the Depths of the Soul, but apparently, the artist, whose name I do not know, must feel very dirty because when I look at his paintings, I see only stains on the canvas. One light red almost pink, it looked like spilled wine on a white dress. The other was burgundy with a hint of brown that looked like dried blood. Next, there was a series of paintings with deep red spots, forming one straight line across all four canvases, called Murder. I agree with the naming. It looked like you cut someone's artery, put them in front of the canvases, and the splattered blood settled on them. The artist obviously likes red a lot, too many different shades of red he used. The Red Sea. Red rivers. Red skies. Red everything.