It had roughly been three days since Marcus and I talked to each other.
I found myself constantly checking my phone just in case he left a call or a text, but it was as if he heard me when I said I quit—he never tried contacting me again. I assumed the plan had been successful since the tabloids were filled of pictures of Marcus and Catherine, headlines of their mysterious break-up. Some of the tabloids made rumored about Marcus finding and falling for another woman—which was half the truth.
He found me, but he didn't fall for me. It was rather one sided. Now that all were said and done, I had played my part and there was nothing else for me to do.
Erin gave up trying to convince me to make him jealous after she saw the look in my eyes. After all, there was no point in making him jealous anyway. We already had packed our bags. We were going back to Vancouver in four days.
As planned, Erin and I had the rest of our remaining days sight-seeing and exploring. We went to Canada's Wonderland. We rode the tallest ride the moment we entered the theme park. It was crowded, draped in sweat as we stood in line under the blazing sun. We walked around the humongous park, mostly because we kept on getting lost, but it was fun!
I experienced gobbling up the notorious funnel cakes. A lot of people were lining up for it even though it was a little too expensive (every theme parks set their prices high anyway so it didn't surprise for me).
And for the first time this week, I let loose. I never once thought of Marcus and our fake relationship charade. I was able to spend time with my best friend, eat however and whatever I want, meet new people while lining up. It was a blast.
Of course, I wouldn't leave Toronto without actually seeing the very reason I came here. The mural.
We sat by the glass windows of a local bistro, in perfect view of what was happening outside. Metal rods stacked up and high to the entirety of the building that I could barely recognize it was a former mural museum I visited a few days ago.
There were plastics covering the windows, men in their construction suit and safety gears coming in and out of the building. They must be going for lunch since it was already ten past noon.
I nervously bit my lips, unsure if going there unannounced would only lead to fruitless outcome. I had called Russell Martinez the other day, the person who promised to give Erin and I a private tour, but he hadn't returned any of my calls.
"Are you getting cold feet now? Let's go," Erin announced as she stood up from her seat, her iced latte drink in her hand.
I looked up warily. "I-I don't know. Let's just wait it out a little bit."
"There you go again. Don't be such a nervous ninny and let's go. This is do or die."
A battle was going on inside my head now. Erin had a point. Do or die. If I wouldn't take the initiative to beg to go inside, even for just one minute to look at the mural, I wouldn't get another chance.
Mom wouldn't allow another "next time" of coming to Toronto. In fact, I might get a mouthful of nagging by the time I get back to Vancouver, but I'd take it all. To see the mural before it'd get painted away for good was a higher priority.
Do or die.
"Let's go."
*****
I found myself boring holes at the large doors that barred me from getting one step closer to my deceased father's mural. It was hard to peek through the door's glass while white plastic covered it from the inside. Taking in a sharp breath, I knocked on the door and my heart continued to pummel faster and stronger that every beat practically rang in my ears.
The silence from the other side was the only reply I received. Again, I knocked three times, harder and louder this time and I finally heard somebody twist the knob.
The person behind the door left only a small space, enough for her head to peek through the slit. I caught her green eyes right away, her eyebrow slightly arched. Our eyes met and felt a little familiarity kicked inside me. I had seen those eyes before.
"Yes?" she spoke up, indifference written all over her face.
I gave a sheepish smile. "H-hello. I'm looking for..." my eyes directed at the business card in my hands, feeling pathetic that my head blanked out. "Russell Martinez."
The woman's eyes narrowed at me before she replied, uninterested. "Out for lunch. What's your business with him?"
I gulped. She was scary. "I-uh. I-I'm... I'm here to see the murals."
Arching her brow higher, she revealed her entirety as she slipped through the now-wide door. I couldn't help but gape at her towering height, resembling a physique of a model in a runway—killer long legs with blank expression in her face.
Both her hands clung on her hips. She was wearing a black pin skirt, an onyx blazer, and paired it with shiny black stilettos that made her legs looked unbelievably long. Her hair draped down her back, loosely tousled.
"Can't you see that this place in under construction? There are no murals to see here, sweetheart." She finally spoke up.
My eyes rounded. Unable to step back and utter a single word, I stood like a tree rooted to the ground. Did they already paint the walls? Was I too late?
I felt a slight jab to my side and saw Erin staring at somebody and smiled back at me. Curious who she was smiling at, I turned my attention to where she was looking at and I felt a sudden leap of hope.
Russell paced towards us, holding a couple of plastic bags in his hands. "Hello ladies," he said as soon as he reached us.
I gave him a wobbly smile, feeling a little ashamed. "I don't know if you remember but I came here about a week ago. I'm sorry for coming here unannounced. I'm just wondering if—"
"If the mural is still here?" His grin broadened. "Come on in before the workers come dashing in after lunch."
"Oh," I replied, waving both hands. "I hope I'm not interrupting your lunch break."
Russell passed the plastic bag, which seemed to be their lunch, to the cranky woman with green eyes, making her snarl at him as she grabbed the plastic from his hand. She turned her back from us then marched inside, the sound of her pumps echoed.
"That's for Reagan. She's cranky when she's hungry," Russell explained and my ears perked up the moment he had said her name.
Reagan... Reagan... Reagan... Where did I hear that before?
Screw my bad memory! This was not the time to ponder about unnecessary things. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and I must seize it.
Russell signaled us to come inside, widening the opening of the door. My gaze subconsciously sized the room. The interior was rather big once you step a foot inside. In the middle was an eye-catching statue of two white lions, sitting on each side of the grand stairs that led to the second floor. I saw Reagan walk up without looking, back and I continued observing the place.
"Be careful when you step on the floor. There might be nails lying around," Russell cautioned and it made Erin and I more careful in every step. We both followed behind him in careful, small strides.
"I apologize for not returning your calls. It's been pretty busy lately that it slipped in my mind," Russell began in an apologetic tone. "And I'm sorry about Reagan. She's naturally aloof to people she doesn't know, but she's nice once you get to know her."
I had no plans whatsoever of getting to know her anyway. I shrugged off the thought and cleared my throat. "There's no need to apologize. Meeting me is not really in your top priority so I understand."
Russell nodded then stopped to flip one of the plastic from one wall. "Do you know the mural you're looking for?" He asked me.
"Umm..." My ears suddenly flamed in embarrassment. Dang it. I had no idea what it looked like. "It's called "Emerald"."
"Good enough. I'm sure there's a small plate somewhere that indicates the name of the murals."
We separated ways, flipping each plastic that covered the wall. So far, I'd seen three murals from the left wing of the building. I noticed that each art shared the same theme. The first art I saw was a painting of an open yet old and rusty door with a hidden paradise inside. It was a garden filled with tulips in vibrant greens. The poor lighting and small scrapes here and there—probably from different heavy equipment moving around—did not give it justice and I could only imagine the beauty of it in my head.
The title was "Welcome to Paraiso". Reading the nameplate, I could already tell that the artist was a humble person, choosing to keep himself anonymous which was rather a waste. He did not give himself enough credit but to each their own, right?
Next to it was a gigantic tree—it was a Bodhi Tree. Leaves were flowing with the wind and birds dancing around the tree and with the tune of the wind. The intricate detailing of each leaf had left me mesmerized. Sweat and blood went through this art—the torturous detailing, careful strokes of the brush, and the right mix of colors made the tree surreal. I couldn't help but run a finger to the mural. It was a little dirty but I did not care. This time around, the artist had left a signage at the bottom of the art and I knew instantly that this was not my dad's. The artist left a cursive and unreadable sign while my dad's was a simple F.W sign.
"Did you find anything?" I asked Erin who was at the far right and across the room. My voice resounded to the empty building that both Russell and Erin answered.
"No!"
I moved on anyway as I flip through the plastics that covered the wall. Slowly, I started to reach the end of the wall and my high hopes started to crumble. Erin and Russell were done going through the other three walls and they found nothing.
"Are you sure you're looking in the right place?" A voice from upstairs spoke up, all three of us looked up in sync. Reagan was looking down on us, expressionless.
"Of course. My mom told me that this is the right place."
"I mean you're looking at the wrong floor," Reagan was trying to be nice despite her sour mood.
"Come on up. There's more here."
I was going to thank her but she was already gone. I couldn't help but smile at the new hope of finding the mural upstairs.
"I told you so. She's nice sometimes," Russell whispered beside me.
"Or she just wants us off of this place soon," Erin whipped.
The three of us moved on upstairs where the walls were untouched. At the epicenter of the second floor, there were chairs and a table where I assumed blueprints and other important paper laid flat on top. Reagan was sitting down on one of the chairs, finishing her food.
"Thank you," I said to her and she replied with a small nod. It was good enough for me.
"Hey, Em, check this out," Erin called me out and I quickly stepped towards her. Her gaze was set to a mural extending from floor-to-ceiling. My eyes zeroed in to the bottom right corner of the mural, the artist's initials written in it.
F.W. Freddy Wren. My dad.
His subject was a woman in a teal dress, playing a piano in the middle of a wide, green field. Her platinum blond hair blew against the wind, specks of white dandelions danced with the tune of her music. There was no doubt that dad's subject was mom.
It was uncanny that in my ear, my mom's piano playing resonated as if she was playing beside me. A small name plate had the mural's title engraved in it. My fingers ran across the plate, feeling each embedded lettering underneath my fingers. Somehow, the tune of Johann Bach's Air on the G string replaced the unnamed tune playing inside my head. It was mom's favorite, and she practiced it with me.
I couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of meaning behind this music—between mom and dad. I shut my eyes completely to the serene vibe and warmth of the piano in my head, letting the imaginary tune course through my body.
"Tranquil Air". Dad named the mural perfectly.
Beside "Tranquil Air" was the art I'd been picturing inside my head. Something inside me stirred, my stomach churned and my heart pummeled at the sight of it. Half of the art was already filled in with deep shade of green in the background and gentle brush strokes of crimson and yellow outlining what seemed to be a petal of a rose. It was hard to tell with the sketch of the other remaining mural halfway finished.
The mural that he named after myself, Emerald, was an incomplete art and my heart ached looking at it, truth be told. My fist clenched into a ball at the realization that he pulled the trigger even before finishing the art.
I'd be a liar if I said I never questioned my mother why dad left us permanently in his own accord. I'd be a liar if I said I never felt a pang of jealousy seeing other kids with their complete family during gradation and any other special occasions.
But looking at these arts right in front of me, it was as if I never planted a stem of hate over that matter. He left something amazing in this world and I was glad I was able to see it before it was gone.
Permanently gone, huh? It was a shame that mom chose to stay back home. After all, this art was for her. I knew it. And even if I recreated something similar to this, it wouldn't have the same sentiment coming from the person mom truly loved.
I wish mom was here to see it. And I wish Nana was here to see her son's art.
"Hello?" Erin's voice snapped me out of my trance, my eyes stung the moment I fluttered them open.
"Are you okay?" Russell spoke up from behind me, concerned look in his face.
"I feel super," My face lit up with a broad smile on my face. Feeling better was probably just an understatement. "Thank you so much for-"
Loud, thundering click clacks from downstairs echoed all the way up to the second floor, interrupting my sentence midway. All of us, except the ice cold Reagan, rushed to the stairs to see who was making a loud commotion.
"Up here!" Russell yelled to the woman downstairs and she instantly looked up to where we were then excitedly waved at us.
My eyes narrowed at the woman in pink. Literally, everything was pink from head to toe except her white undershirt. Each step she made to the stairs resounded around the former museum, and it seemed like lady in pink enjoyed each click clacks of her stilettos.
In a matter of seconds, she stood in front of us, an excited expression in her face as soon as she revealed her emerald eyes behind her iconic Manhattan sunglasses. The woman stood as tall as Reagan except she was more bubbly and seemed more approachable. Somehow, I felt relieved that she came around to lighten up the mood.
"Oh my gosh! I totally know you!" she said in a very high pitched voice, a slight gasp escaping her light pink lips. "Emerald, right? I remember because Cedric totally won you over the auction. How was the date?" the woman rambled on and I couldn't help but admire her sharp memory.
Elle Woods incarnate.
Now that she mentioned Cedric, my memory came back in a flash. This woman was one of the girls from the date auction which explained Reagan's familiarity—they were sisters.
"Hey! This is a total coincidence. It's nice to meet you again." I told her. She was even more animated today compare to the first time we met.
"Likewise," the woman whom I remembered now named Reagan Darlington. Her bright emerald eyes scanned me thoroughly. "So what are you doing here?"
"Oh... I-umm," I stuttered, caught off guard by her question. "I'm here to see the murals before I leave Toronto... and before they disappear completely."
"Disappear?" Maegan's eyebrows knitted together, a giggle escaped her mouth. "Oh no, honey. That mural will stay. You see, my office will be on this side, and I want the mural. It's too beautiful to be painted over! Don't you think?"
I could see the appreciation and happiness in her eyes. I wondered if dad could see how happy he made somebody over an art he painted many years ago.
"No can do, Maegan," her twin sister glared at her sister. "Granddad specifically says he wants a total renovation. You can't keep that!"
"Oh, sister. You're such a worry-wart. This is going to be my office anyway. I can do whatever I want with it."
"That's not what I'm ultimately concerned about. What will the artist of the mural say if you just used the art without consent?"
And with that, Maegan's proud smile died out. "Oh, you have a point."
"Actually, the umm... the artist died a long time ago so I don't think it's a problem." The Darlington sisters turned their attention to me. The last few words came out in a faded effect when I caught Reagan's piercing glare. My words were caught in my throat, unable to look away.
"How do you know that for sure?" the moody one asked.
"He-uh... He's my dad and he passed away before I was born," my words hesitantly rolled out my tongue and the twins' expression softened.
Maegan, on the other hand, let out a small gasp. "Oh no, I am not aware of that fact. I am so, so sorry!"
The gentler of the two walked over to me, hugging me tightly that I almost choked. Her embrace evidently showed her remorse over the fact that I grew up without a paternal figure, and it felt like an older sister was comforting me—a nice and fuzzy feeling, truth be told.
"It's fine."
"I'm sorry! I didn't know you're the daughter of the artist. Please don't sue me!"
My brows furrowed at her assumption. "Oh no, no, no. I won't sue you or do anything crazy. I'm here to see it one last time. But in all honesty, I'm glad that you find the art beautiful even if it's old and a little rusty. As an artist myself, that alone satisfies me."
"That is so beautiful!" Maegan exclaimed. "Oh my gosh. What are the odds. I think it's destiny that I meet the daughter of the artist."
I smiled. "I think so, too."
"Oh!! I have a great idea!" Maegan proclaimed, excitement prevalent in her tone then Reagan let out a loud exasperated sigh.
"How about you do the touch ups for the mural? I was going to hire someone else but what's more sentimental than the daughter herself re-vamp the art, right?
It sounded like it was as great idea, but it wasn't, really.
"I appreciate the offer but I've never done mural painting in my life. You should hire a professional. I hate the possibility that I might ruin it."
Her shoulders dropped in an instant. I thought she'd spew words of persuasion, instead she gave me a weak smile. "I understand. So, is it really alright if I keep the art without even paying for it at all? Name your price."
I choked at her question but held back my laugh when I saw how serious she was.
"I won't be able to stomach the fact that I'll profit from something that I didn't even make."
"You're right," Her radiant smile then came back in a flash with a tinge red in her cheeks. "I shouldn't have asked such a stupid question."
"Oh, no I didn't mean to imply that you're... you know, stupid, or that your idea is stupid." I said as soon as guilt washed over me.
Loud laughs, chattering men, and their loud footsteps began bombarding the empty first floor. Lunch break was over too soon that I did not even feel like we were here for over forty minutes.
Reagan marched forward, her gaze locked on her twin sister and her arms folded over her chest. "Let's go. Dad's on his way to the mid-town branch and you want to be there before he does or else you're going to eat nagging and endless analogies at dinner,"
Maegan grunted then turned to me. "I have to go. It's really nice meeting you again and thanks for giving me permission to keep the mural."
She then pulled me in for a hug and bid our goodbyes, and the Darlington sisters were gone in an instant. They were undeniably gorgeous women that all the men downstairs stopped what they were doing.
"I promised you a private tour but the twins barged in. I'm really sorry," Russell chimed in.
"Oh, no. Don't worry about it. I owe you big time, actually. I wouldn't be able to see the murals without your help. Thank you so much!" I said with a smile on my face.
*****
I hadn't stopped grinning like a hyena since I'd seen the mural.
After seeing my deceased father's art in person, I'd never felt so motivated in my entire life. And it made me want to try mural painting. My head was already filled with ideas that I couldn't wait to go home and start my sketches.
"You sure are happy today," Erin prompted. She was walking behind me as we trekked the peaceful neighborhood.
"Of course I am happy! I finally saw the mural that mom has been telling me about since I was a kid," a sigh escaped my mouth but the smile in face did not fade.
"But don't you feel a bit sad that the mural that is supposed to be named after you is unfinished?" she probed and I just shook my head in disagreement.
"There's nothing to be sad about. It's a bummer that it's unfinished, but I can't cry over spilled milk. Besides, only the artist himself can portray the art to his liking so finishing the mural on his behalf will not do the art any justice."
Erin shrugged. "I'd finish it, if you ask me. I mean, she's willing to pay."
I couldn't help but laugh. After all, it was very much like Erin. She wouldn't be able to pass that rare opportunity.
"You've seen the mural; we've gone around the city for the past two days; what now?" Erin asked but her suggestive tone was enough for me to comprehend what she was trying to suggest.
"We'll be home by the end of the week without meeting Marcus. Period."
"Why don't you just talk to him? At least let him know you're going to leave?"
I grabbed my phone and plastered my empty inbox.
"Zero messages, zero calls, zero voicemails since that night. I'm pretty sure that means 'The deal is done, it's nice to meet you. Buh-bye.'" I finished, sarcasm dripping all over my words.
"There you go again, assuming things."
I ignored her last sentence anyway. I didn't want to see Marcus, hear Marcus, or even feel Marcus. I needed my head and heart to cool off from this summer fling.
You will forget about this, Emerald. You will! Just hang in there!
In a few minutes, we found ourselves in the front door, groping my bag for the key. As soon as I opened the door, my limbs weaken that I held onto Erin for support, but even she was surprised at the person in front of us.
My heartbeat quickened as soon as my eyes met the familiar folder with a company's name in the header—the same folder I got from Denise the first week we got here.
I wanted to say something but my words were caught in my throat. After all, those eyes before me were too enraged that fury permeated the room. The wordless meeting added to the tension.
Finally, I licked my lips and swallowed the huge lump in my throat.
"M-mom?"
*****
A/N: DUN DUN DUUUUUN. I smell trouble! So, how did you like the chapter? I know it's uneventful and the hottie Marcus is not in it *sad face* but this is pivotal in our story~ Are you guys ready for some drama? XD
I hope you guys like it. This is my last post this week. The editing has worn me out.
Song: ♪ Air on the G String | Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D Major | Composed by Johann Bach | Cover by Marek Lutonsky ♪