When Love & Hate Collide [Completed]

Chapter 19 - Getting Dressed for the Party

"Party? What party?" I asked full of surprise, or shock to be more precise.

"The organizers of the Louvre exhibition have organized a party for all the artists. Obviously, there would be other high society people. And lot of media too, who are the real reason why this party is being organized." Noberto explained coolly but I was already sweating.

"I.. uhmm... why me?" I asked in a small voice. I was hoping he would hear the unsaid request and confirm in affirmation that I am not needed for the party.

"Why not you?" Noberto threw the ball back in my court.

"What will I do in such a party? I am no artist nor do I belong to the high society," I stated the fact. Truth was, I was shit scared at the thought of being at any such place where I didn't belong. Yesterday was still very much fresh in my mind.

"Don't think about those things. You are attending this party with me. That is all that you need to be concerned about. Besides, it's going to give you a glimpse of what your life can be if this exhibition is a hit. There will be no dearth of work for you. Albert is screwing every rule in the book to get this right," Noberto said while his attention was still fixed on the painting before him.

"But-," I tried again but Noberto cut me in.

"No more discussion. Its final and you are coming. Now if you will focus on your work, I need to complete these paintings. Not that I care but I hate to act in front of media that I am on top of my work. God knows what Albert will do, if I tell everyone I am a long shot away from our scheduled date."

That was the last we discussed about the party till it was just one day before the party. Noberto had been having a spurt of energy which kept driving him forward and me crazy. I don't remember how many poses he would have asked me to try, in equally countless number of places. We had explored the entire gardens, which were quite huge.

I don't know if the reason for such drive was the party or something else, but he was highly productive indeed. Not that his mood had improved much. He was still the painful, eccentric, quirky painter who would change his mind any minute. But at least his work was moving at a much faster speed when he did get his thought right.

As usual I was not allowed to see any of the paintings. Some time it was too much to control and I yearned to catch just one look but the request was never relented.

It was already Friday and we were approaching the completion of one of the paintings. I had been watching him for days now, just like he had been watching me. And I could now distinguish his actions, his expressions as they changed during the making of a painting.

He would usually be quite lost for most of the painting. His mind guiding him in all directions at the same time. His face would always show a struggle, a confusion, an almost pain. He would work and discard, rework and re-discard till he found the gem he had been looking for in his closed dark mind. I could almost feel his tussle with his inner self while he kept ordering me to take a new pose every few hours. My body would be dead tired at the end of each day.

But then I would see him getting focussed and ultimately a sense of completion in his eyes as the painting reached its conclusion. His eyes would be free of pain or struggle or stony feelings. It were moments like these when I would catch a glimpse of a man behind that face but it was fleeting always.

He would cover up those careless moments quickly and go back to being a dictator who would want his unreasonable demands met immediately. I never had the courage to question him or to suggest anything to him. So I just tried to follow as much as I could. That night when Noberto had hurt himself was the only time I had spoken back to him. I have no idea what had prompted me back then but it was just one off case. I went back to following his orders like that night had never happened.