0.58|from Sabah's first draft: when visiting an art museum|
"And we're here!" Anthony cheered as the car slid into the Museo Del Prado parking lot.
Before she could say anything, her phone rang shrilly. She frowned at the contact name, "Its Lana. Why is she calling me?"
"Who is Lana?"
"Oh you know that bitchy teacher from school who is out celebrating her birthday right now and didn't invite me to the party...yeah, that one." She accepted the call and said the customary, "Hello?"
Anthony smiled as she rolled her eyes and said, "Hola, Lana! Happy Birthday...umm Feliz cumpleanos. Hope you're having a fantastic day...Thanks...You're inviting me to your party!?" She looked at Anthony with an impressed look.
His smile faltered but he gave a thumbs-up.
"I-umm-I-I am actually out with my best friend at the moment and we already made plans so happy birthday, eat my share of the cake and I'm sorry but I can't make it." She cut the call and sighed in relief, "Phew, that's done. Let's go! Las Meninas is waiting for us."
He caught her arm and pulled her back in, "Why?"
She looked at him, his indescribable, confused and confusing grey eyes, "What why?"
"This was your chance to get what you wanted," he said quickly. "Why are you letting it go?"
She smiled, shaking her head. "I don't think you've realized it," she reached for his soft, blonde hair and ruffled it, "but I would rather spend time with you than with anyone else." She laughed as he blushed and blinked, "Especially if that someone is Lana who hates me and only invited me because of today."
"Wait a minute, that means I am a booster for your social life," he remarked proudly.
She punched his shoulder, "Shut up!"
And the afternoon and evening went in sweet abandon and comfortable walks across corridors of the Museum, finding reasons to hold hands and laughing at jokes which wouldn't make any sense to anyone else but the two of them. They admired Francisco de Goya, unravelled Diego Velazquez, squealed over El Greco and Titian, got enamoured by Peter Paul Rubens and would never forget Hieronymus Bosch.
Rich, exquisite paintings and jaw-dropping sculptures by these and many more adorned the white-washed the walls. Some people stood near to the paintings, taking off their spectacles to peer closely at the details of old paint on hidden canvases. Others sat quietly, alone and happy with unaching backs at benches, staring for hours at huge, towering masterpieces, going home with expressions of new found secrets and excitement that rippled past the hallways every now and then. This same excitement was felt by Auburn and Anthony too, who stopped for ages at particular places and strolled past others, always finding something to talk about, something to remember and repeat, something new and old to love and admire.
Here, surrounded by far-off echoing footsteps, low breaths, thick inertia, they felt as if they had just touched an age old mystery, a mystery that only very few had heard about and fewer had solved. Every smile, every laugh had a reason so deep that the outside world soon began to fade and give way to pure, whispering exhilaration.
They stopped finally in front of Las Meninas by Diego Velazquez, the painting they had heard so much about and had wanted to see since once reading an article about it together. Auburn untangled her fingers from him and stepped forward, mesmerized, "It looks just like a..."
"Photograph," completed Anthony in the same drunk, dazed voice. "And its him, Velazquez, in the painting..."
"And he's staring at us as if to say You guys have no idea," she laughed softly.
He walked forward, "Or as if he was painting us, this moment, our surprise, everything."
There was so much depth, detailing and space for contemplation in the painting that every time you went back to a corner you found something new. Some of the painted characters were engrossed with the young Infanta Margaret Theresa while others looked haughtily maybe even curiously at the viewers. The lines were in sync with the viewer's point of view while the room was unending, a door opening to a beyond which was open to imagination.
By the time they came out of the world of art, magic and sighs, night had come and the air was chilly but for them the day was young. On knowing each other's preference for little, side-street restaurants, they found a quaint one which went by the name of Little Tourister where they settled on small wooden benches and a table.
Of course, they quarreled about what food to order. Words went quick and fast as arrows from behind menus. Auburn was saying, "No, I don't want to try something I can't even pronounce. God knows what's in it and what it tastes of."
Anthony, however, wanted to eat only the things he couldn't pronounce, "Well, I'm having this, like it or not. You eat your daily boring stuff."
"Bacon and veggies is not boring," she retaliated.
The waiter stood glaring over them, not wanting to ask the only customers to finish their squabbling and decide on something.
"I'll take this," Anthony pointed to the longest name in the menu.
The waiter looked surprised and patted his stomach, "Todo en el cena platter? Wow usted tiene un estomago grande para un tipo delgado."
Anthony looked totally flabbergasted to hear such an onslaught of Spanish and all he did in response was smile and nod, "Si si." He told Auburn, "Look the man seems to really appreciate my choice. And its a healthy food item too. I mean, I guess it is because he's been patting his stomach and looking pleased."
She ignored him, "I'll take Bacon and veggies, please?"
The waiter jotted down the order, "Algo de beber? Er...want to drink?"
"Si," Anthony agreed, enthusiastically. "I'll take whatever's the most popular here."
"Just water for me," Auburn said.
After the waiter left with their orders, Anthony asked, "You don't drink?"
"Nope," she replied. "Not since I got alcohol poisoning."
He laughed, "You had alcohol poisoning?"
"Yeah," she said, "and it wasn't funny at all. I was celebrating my sixteenth birthday and one of my friends thought it would be really cool to spike my mojito with the alcohol she had stolen from her parents. It was so bad. God, I'll never forget the time I spent in the hospital and Mum and Dad were upset and angry because I was underage. I thought I was going to die...yeah, not funny at all."
"Wow, that was..." he couldn't find the word for it, "...interesting."
"Oh look, here's my food," Auburn said, changing the topic hurriedly.
Anthony waited for the waiter to set down the plate and leave before saying, "It looks sad, to be honest. I'm sure my plate will look marvelous."
"I'm sure," she said, sarcastically. "If and when it does arrive."
Anthony's platter indeed took its own sweet time to arrive and when it did their jaws dropped open.
"Th-that is huge," Anthony exclaimed. "I can't eat all of that."
Auburn burst out laughing.
The platter was a huge one piled high with meats, lettuce, different cheeses, olives, pastes, pita breads and a few colourful vegetables that they couldn't identify.
Anthony took a deep breath, "It looks really good though unlike your sad plate."
"Good luck finishing it," she laughed.
As it turned out, the platter was delicious and together they managed to finish off most of it with Anthony imploring Auburn to try some of it and then feeding her by his fork.
"This has been such a wonderful day. I'm so full I can't eat a grain more, my feet are exhausted with all the walking and I haven't felt so carefree in a long, long time," she said, after they had finished the dessert. "Thank you for everything."
"Thank you for being such great company," he raised his glass towards her. "I wouldn't have enjoyed half as much if I was with somebody else."
She stared at him with her violet-blue eyes for long, curiously, "Why are you so sweet?"
He reached up to fix his hair nervously.
"And how come you're single when you're basically the ideal boyfriend for any girl out there?" she wondered aloud.
He set his glass down and looked up seriously, hopefully, "You could change that."
She swallowed and stood up, "Its getting late. We should go. Carlotta must be waiting."
They fell into the most awkward, heartbreaking silences of their whole acquaintance and the ride back was uncomfortable, overshadowing their day with scattered thoughts and apprehensive fidgeting.
When they reached the familiar cafe, Anthony turned to her, "I was serious, you know."
She looked ahead, tensely.
"I do really...like you," he said with a note of finality, as if he knew that the conversation was over before it could begin.
"Don't be a fucking anchor, Anthony," she whispered, getting out and closing the door shut.
[ hey, guys, how you all doing?
translations glossary:
Feliz cumpleanos : Happy Birthday
Todo en el cena plato? Wow usted tiene un estomago grande para un tipo delgado : Everything On It Dinner Platter? Wow you have a large stomach for a skinny guy.
Algo de beber : Anything to drink?
hope you enjoyed the chapter and there's lots going to happen so vote and stay tuned. did you enjoy the museum scenes? also, in light of the last sentence, what do you think is going to happen for #aubony next? comment and let me know!
love and huge, delicious dinner platters]