"Taehyung, I have no idea what could possibly be causing you so much stress and heartache, but no matter what it is, I'm here for you. You aren't going to lose me, do you hear me? You're the only friend I've made since losing Olivia, everyone I knew pretty much forgot about me when I gave up on myself. So whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me, unless you choose to walk away from this friendship."
~{}~
Two days had passed since I received the painting, and I'd spent a good part of them online, researching what types of questions an amnesia patient should ask to help with their memories. Unfortunately, nothing had changed since the last time I'd researched. There were no right or wrong questions, because no two people suffered the same.
Aside from that, I had just looked up Hansen's Art Gallery, and did a quick scroll of the website, but it seemed as if it hadn't been updated in awhile.
Well, now seems like as good a time as any to take a taxi to the gallery, and talk to the owner... just as soon as I got myself dressed and presentable.
Twenty minutes later, I stepped off the elevator and walked to the doors leading outside. I stood there for a minute, taking a deep breath. For the first time since my walk right after getting home from the hospital, I stepped out into the world, hoping with everything in me that I could find something out today that might help me remember more of my life.
After a few minutes of waiting, I was able to wave down a taxi, and I gave the driver the address of the gallery, settling back into the seat and buckling my seatbelt.
As we moved along the busy streets, stopping for red lights and zipping through green, I listened to all the noises of the city, horns blaring, people shouting, sirens wailing, and I felt a strange sense of deja vu. But that was most likely because I had traveled to and from work this way in the past. New York was a big, noisy city, and this was normal.
Finally, the taxi was pulling up in front of a building, and I saw the elegant lettering on the window letting me know that we had arrived at Hansen's Art Gallery.
My stomach was in knots as I paid the driver and climbed out of the car, sliding my purse strap over my shoulder. I took another deep breath, and walked to the double doors, pulling one side opened and stepping inside.
If I had hoped for a barrage of memories to hit me, well, it didn't happen. Nothing at all looked familiar about this place. It was as if I'd stepped in here for the very first time.
I looked around, seeing the walls mostly bare, and there wasn't another person in sight. I walked a bit further into the room, listening for any sounds coming from anywhere. But it was quiet. Too quiet.
"Hello? Is anyone here?"
I heard a bit of noise coming from behind a curtain hanging from the doorway towards the back, and suddenly a short, slightly round man appeared from behind the curtain, straightening his suit jacket as he did.
But as he looked up, his mouth dropped opened, and he stood staring at me for a moment.
I tried to think of something to say, but I didn't get the chance.
"Samantha Sloane..."
"I..."
How totally brainless of me to have forgotten that this man was going to recognize me.
"Yes, but...I'm sorry, I don't-"
"I know," he nodded, "you don't remember me. I heard about your accident. I'm so glad you're okay, despite the fact that you can't remember anything of your past."
"Thank you."
I stood there awkwardly, searching for the right words, yet not sure where to start. I wasn't sure what I wanted to know, yet at the same time, I wanted to know everything he could tell me.
"How did you...hear about my accident?"
"A young man came in that said he had, ah...been friends with your boyfriend, and I found out from him." He answered quietly.
I gave him a smile, sensing that he was uncomfortable.
"It's okay, I don't remember my boyfriend, sadly. I'd like to know anything you could tell me about him, though. I'm trying to regain some of my memories, and so far, I've had no luck at all. I do know that I stopped working for you because I wasn't able to focus on my job after losing him, and from what my parents tell me, I stopped caring about anything. But that's all I know. Can you help me?" I asked hopefully.
He nodded, a sad smile appearing on his rounded face.
"It's not been the same since you left your job here. I haven't been able to find anyone as competent as you, and as you can see, the walls are mostly bare. The last girl I had working had no idea what she was doing, she failed to get all the information from potential exhibitors, and I lost out on several of them, having no way to contact them. It's been a disaster, to say the least."
"I'm so sorry."
"No no, please, I understand, and quite honestly, I'm not quite sure how you managed to keep working for that first six months, but I'm grateful that you did. I would love to have you back, if ever you feel you'd like to work here again, but I certainly understand if you can't."
I was a bit shocked, not having expected the conversation to take this turn, but I was grateful at the same time.
"Thank you, Mr. Hansen, I will keep that in mind. I can't say that I have the knowledge of art that I may have had before my accident, but I might be willing to give it a try. Maybe after I get this cast off my arm. Two more weeks, and I'm free!"
He chuckled, and the atmosphere seemed to lighten, thankfully.
"So, Mr. Hansen, can you tell me about my boyfriend? What was he like? I really don't have anyone else to ask, my parents didn't really know him well, and I really hadn't made friends, I guess I was always so busy working."
He nodded, smiling at me.
"You were definitely a hard worker, and I believe you spent more time here than you did at home. It's a shame that we don't realize what a treasure we have in someone until we no longer have them."
His smile fell, and he looked at me sadly.
"That boyfriend of yours was a talented one. I have never had anyone hold an exhibition, and sell out every single painting. It causes such pain in my heart that he barely had the opportunity to enjoy his success. How could life be so cruel to such a talented young man. He had so much left to give, I'm sure of it. It just doesn't seem fair that he was taken from the world so soon."
There was an ache in my heart that seemed to get stronger as he spoke. I felt a sadness creeping into my soul, and it didn't feel good. But I needed to know. I'd rather he tell me whatever he could, because I still didn't like the thought of my memories just all the sudden flooding back in, and overwhelming me.
"Ah, but the two of you together were something to see. I remember how you were hurrying him along the day of his exhibition. He was always so relaxed, not worrying about much, but you were always on the ball, needing everything to be done just so. The two of you complimented each other though, in the best way. It was easy to see how happy you were together."
As sad as hearing all of this was making me, I had such an intense desire to remember him. To know who he was, to be able to picture his face, and hear his voice. I hated that I'd lost my phone in the accident, because I was sure there had been photo's of him, or maybe the two of us, on it.
"What type of paintings did he do?"
"Mostly landscapes. They were amazing, so lifelike. You could stand in front of one of his paintings, and feel like you were surrounded by it. He seemed to have a fondness for flowers, and sunsets."
A chill ran down my spine at his words. I brushed it off, thinking it a strange coincidence, but nothing more.
"So, this friend of his that came in. What did he want?"
"Oh, well, actually, he was asking about you."
"Me? What did he ask about me?"
"He was curious if I knew how you were. I told him I hadn't seen you since you took your leave from here."
"And that was it?"
"No, he also wondered if I had any paintings left over from the exhibition. I told him that everything had sold, but then I remembered a painting I had held for a buyer, who later had to back out of the purchase, something having come up. I offered him that painting, it was just sitting in my office, and I didn't see any reason to let it go to waste, it was just as beautiful as all the others had been."
I furrowed my brows, wondering why I hadn't known about this painting. I might have liked to have it myself, back when I still had my memories.
"Did you happen to find out this mans name? Maybe it'll ring a bell if I hear it."
"I did, his name was Eric Jensen. Nice young man, very polite."
I swallowed. EJ.
I was confused. I knew it could be another coincidence. But what if it wasn't?
So much made no sense. I felt like I was going to have to question my neighbors roommate, and try to find out what was going on. I felt more and more like he must have been friends with my boyfriend. What if he was lying about how long he'd been in New York? But why would he do that?
"Did Eric say what he wanted the painting for?"
Mr. Hansen shook his head. "I'm sorry, he didn't. I assumed he wanted to have it as a remembrance. He had mentioned when he first arrived that he couldn't believe he'd known Mr. Kim for two years, and had never thought to ask him to do a painting for him."
"Yes, I guess it makes sense for him to be interested in one then. What was the painting of, if you don't mind me asking."
"Oh, not at all. It was a beautiful sunset over a lake, a small island with a tree in the middle of the lake, the sky and water in many beautiful shades of purple. Never seen anything like it. It was truly remarkable."
I felt slightly dizzy. A piece of the puzzle was there, but where it went, I had absolutely no idea. I had a painting that had a signature on it that matched a signature on a painting done by Chris's roommate.
I needed this to make sense, but I didn't know how to make that happen.
I just wanted to pull my hair and scream. Why did this have to be so confusing? Why did nothing make any sense? What if nothing was as I thought it was? What if my boyfriend hadn't painted his paintings? What if someone else had painted them, and he just took the credit? Was that even possible?
I didn't know if I'd ever seen him at work on a painting. But no, why would he have taken credit for someone else's work?
My head was starting to hurt, and I knew it was time to leave, and go home. I'd found out things that should be helpful, but at the moment, there was only confusion.
I needed time to rest my brain, calm my thoughts, clear my mind.
"I think I'll be going now. Thank you so much for your help, Mr. Hansen. I really appreciate it."
He reached a hand out to me, and I took it, shaking his hand lightly.
"I'm happy to help. Let me know if there's anything else you need, and please, when you're ready, do consider coming back to work, I'd be so happy to have you. You have a knack for drawing in amazing artists."
I smiled, nodding.
"Thank you, you're too kind."
"Trust me, Ms. Sloane, you know what you're doing when it comes to art. You saw the talent in Taehyung Kim immediately. It's thanks to his exhibit that I'm still holding on here. But I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to stay open without any art on display to sell."