How We Disappear

Chapter 17.

Written by: Sophie (Gasoline_Sunshine)

Chapter 17.

Gerard.

I had made it back to the gallery a little while before the show officially started, and decided to wait outside on the bench in case Frank showed up early as well. It struck 10 o'clock, and people started showing up more frequently as the minutes passed. Frank hadn't shown up early, so I slipped into the gallery and figured I'd just meet him inside - something that we hadn't specified in planning the events of that night, but should have.

The gallery already had a decent amount of people in it, and my heart rate quickened as I followed them down the hallway and into the large room. The walls were now filled with art, and I couldn't wait to look at the artwork that mine was hung alongside. I promised myself that I would wait for Frank before looking around, though, and decided to wait by the entrance of the room instead. 

"It's good to see you again." a voice said from behind me. I turned quickly, coming face to face with the woman that I had met earlier, when I had dropped my art off. She smiled at me, and I returned the smile. 

I nodded, not sure what to say. Thankfully, she continued the conversation herself. 

"There's a lot of people here, huh? I'm sure you weren't expecting it to be such a big turn out. I did. It's like this every year. It's one of our biggest events. Everyone loves seeing the up-and-coming artists." 

I nodded again, looking around the room awkwardly. 

"You should go stand by your art," she nodded toward the side of the room that she had directed me to earlier that day. "People really like seeing the face of the artist that made the work. Some even like talking to them. It's a great opportunity to get opinions and tips from bigger artists that had their start right here, when they were your age." 

"Alright. Uh, thanks." I smiled and nodded to her, before turning and heading through the crowd, toward the wall where my piece was hung. 

As I turned the corner, I saw that there were a few people already standing in front of the space where my art was displayed, looking at the wall and talking to each other. I stayed a few feet away, wanting to wait until they moved on before making my way over there. It took a few minutes, but they finally directed their attention to the next piece of art. I slowly walked toward the wall, and once I got there, stood awkwardly near the end of the wall, barely a foot away from my art. 

A couple groups of people, and even a few individual people, looked at the art without acknowledging myself. I overheard their comments on the display, and I figured that this was just what the woman had meant by ‘getting opinions and tips’ - until someone actually decided to speak up. 

There was a girl I had noticed earlier, one that was a couple years older than me, but younger when it came to everyone else at the event. She walked very slowly through the gallery, spending at least ten minutes at each piece, staring and analyzing silently. She walked with a straight, confident posture as she moved on to each piece of art - but when she made it to the next piece, she tucked her hands behind her back, her long, dark hair falling in her face as she leaned slightly forward, fixing herself into the art. 

Her actions and the way she seemed to slip into the art itself made it impossible to look away once you laid eyes on her. And as she got closer to my area of the gallery, I started to panic. What would she think of my art? It definitely wasn’t anything like the rest of the pieces in here. For some reason, I found myself caring more about her opinion than anyone else’s in the gallery. She seemed like the one that knew the most - or at least, could tell the honest truth, not just based on basic rules of art, but on the energy and emotion in a piece.