Peter
Oh, I'm so late.
Peter looked at the directions again as he walked faster. Deep breaths in and out as his black boots hit pavement.
On the inside, Peter was anxious and jittery, rehearsing things he could or should say. But to the occasional passers-by, Peter looked like a well put together man, with his dark trousers and nice button up coat to keep the chill away.
Peter stopped outside the door and took in a deep breath. Shoulders straightened, he clutched the soft pink flowers in his hand.
As he opened the door, faint melodic music could be heard. The first thing he saw when he walk in was a large canvas.
It was as if he had been transported back to that day when Bea had shared a horse with him.
The background of the painting was of soft pinks and purples, gently swirling and merging with white to create a beautiful sunset he remembered very well. So well in fact, he could almost smell Bea's delicate scent and remember the feel of her.
Peter smiled as he stepped closer to look at the different hot air balloons Bea had placed with a touch of whimsy in the sky of the painting.
He followed the carefully arranged layout. Around the slight crowd of people who had come. The first few paintings were bright cheerful pieces, images of Turkey with its magic landscape and majestic hot air balloons.
Peter glanced around, Bea not in sight.
Where are you Beatrice?
Peter saw an information desk with two young women behind it. He made his way over to them.
The two young women giggled a bit and nudged shoulders as Peter walked up.
While the shorter one asked how they could help, the taller one eyed Peter and then looked behind him. Back and forth her eyes went between Peter and something behind him.
"Eh, yes. I was wondering if you knew where I might find Beatrice Love?" Peter shifted as the tall woman continued her perusal of him.
The tall woman whispered into the shorter ones ears. The short woman giggled as she looked at Peter then behind him.
Peter tensed and with a huff turned around.
He stared into his own face.
Peter's neck started to feel warm. He stepped closer to look at his doppleganger.
Bea had taken the drawing she had made of him, and put it to canvas. Sleeping Peter with his untidy dark hair, laid out carefree before tensed Peter.
Peter turned back to the women at the desk, with the intention of asking after Bea again, when he felt an arm slip through his.
Bea?
Peter looked as an oppressive scent assaulted his nose. He went rigid as he stared at Lucille. "What are you doing here?"
Lucille arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Aren't you happy to see an old friend Peter dear?"
Peter shrugged out of her vice-like grip. "We are not friends Lucille. How did you know I would be here?"
"I have my ways. Your sweet mum is just dying for you to settle with a good woman." Lucille smirked and looked around. "Why are you at this horrid little show? I've seen better."
Peter grit his teeth.
"Peter dear, if you wanted to see art, I'm sure that can be arranged. Why don't we go back to mine and-"
Peter stepped away from Lucille. "Stop right there. Lucille that's not going to happen. It's never going to happen. I am not your dear. There will never be an us. I'm sorry, but you need to really look elsewhere."
Lucille narrowed her eyes at Peter, and pursed her bright red lips. "You are ridiculous. And not worth it." She turned and stomped off in her tall heels, blonde hair swished haphazardly.
Peter sighed. Finally. He turned back and saw the two women standing with arms crossed and frowns on their faces. He asked again if they knew where Bea was. They shook their heads and the tall one said he just missed her.
Peter thanked them and walked off to the side. He sent a message to Bea saying he was sorry for missing her. That her paintings are wonderful.
Peter rubbed his neck and continued wandering about. Cheerful paintings slowly turned dark, til he stood before a very bleak one. The card beside it marked it as the winning piece.
Oh Beatrice...
Peter's eyes stung a little as he looked at the painting.
A woman who looked like an older version of Bea smiled as she sailed away in a golden hot air balloon, towards the only bit of brightness on the canvas. The rest of the large painting had dark almost black stormy clouds fighting for dominance. The landscape below was a barren and stark place. One lonely girl, with dark curls, was frozen on canvas. A look of absolute grief on her face. Forever running towards the rope trailing off behind the hot air balloon. Never able to reach it.
Peter startled as his pocket began to buzz.
He quickly made his way outside, so he wouldn't bother the other people.
He looked at the screen. Unknown number.
"Hello, this is Peter Fuller."
"How dare you! How could you come to Bea's show and bring some other woman with you?! What kind of guy does that?"
Peter stood in shock as he listened to the voice of Bea's friend Nicole lay into him.
"Nicole? Eh, how did you get my... nevermind. What are you talking about? I didn't bring a date." Peter glanced around, tried not to make eye contact with people walking by.
"Uh huh, sure Casanova. Tall, skinny blonde ring any bells?"
Peter cursed as he rubbed at his temple. "Nicole, I did not...I would never. You have to believe me. She just showed up. My mum told her where I would be. I sent her away."
"Oh...you need to tell Bea all of this."
"I didn't know she had even seen that. Now I know why she didn't return my message."
"I'm sending you her hotel information. Don't make me regret this! You better fix this Romeo. She's leaving tomorrow to fly home."
"Thank you Nicole."
Peter looked at the information Nicole sent.
He straightened up and started off towards Bea's hotel while he clutched the slightly wilted flowers.
He dialed Bea's number.
"Come on...come on. Pick up."
Peter sighed as he was sent to voicemail.
"Beatrice, I'm almost to your hotel. Please talk to me. It's not what you think."
Peter stood in the lobby as he waited for Bea to come down. He had resorted to having the man at reception phone Bea's room for him.
Peter stared at the dark old floorboards. He tensed as he heard his name.
Before him Bea stood, arms hugged her middle. Her hair was down, wild curls everywhere. Red rimmed, blank brown eyes, stared at a spot near his shoulder.
Peter looked around the room. "Can we go somewhere to talk?"
"Sure."
Bea walked past Peter out the door to stand outside. Peter followed.
Peter looked down at Bea as she leaned against the side of the hotel. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't bring a date to your show. I'm sorry it looked that way. I went to see my parents. Which is why I was late. My mum told Lucille I would be here. I didn't invite her. I wouldn't do that. I...eh, I am sorry I haven't returned your messages. I should have. Oh yes, these are for you. They were a little more lively earlier." Peter held out the wilted pink flowers.
Bea held the flowers. She stared down at them as she ran a finger along the limp petals.
"Please. Say something."
Bea looked up, eyes glassy. "What do you want me to say?"
"You're upset...if you are worried about Lucille, don't be."
"I'm not worried about her. I'm worried about me. What is this? What are we? Peter...I don't think I can do this right now. I'm messed up. My emotions are everywhere. You have your own stuff going on right now. Maybe...we need to...step back and think about this." Bea sniffed. "I really like you Peter. But, I don't think I'm good for anyone right now. I-I, I need to go."
Bea started to walk past Peter, when he carefully spun her around. "That's it then? I don't get a say in this? Damn it Beatrice, I think I could love you if you would just let me." A light rain started to fall on them.
Peter stepped closer to Bea, his free hand came up to cup her face. Bea's eyes closed as Peter's thumb swiped a raindrop off her bottom lip. "You don't know me. I'm a wreck."
Peter leaned down and rubbed his face against the side of Bea's. He breathed in her sweet scent, as her curls tickled his face. "I know you're afraid of high places. I know you are creative. That you hide behind a tough exterior. I know you're funny. I know you are strong. And I know you love deeply. I may not know everything about you Beatrice, but I want to. If you'll let me."