Chapter Thirty-Two #2
‘Oh, none taken. Don’t worry… and that’s a very common type of memory association,’ Thomas admitted. ‘We all do it on one level or another.’ He paused for a quick second, as if considering what to say next. ‘Did you like that teacher, Thomas, when you were in school?’
Mary pressed her lips tightly together for an instant. ‘I hated him with all my might.’
They both broke into laughter for a second time.
Mary couldn’t help thinking that Thomas truly did have an odd sort of magnetism that she was finding hard to fight. Even his voice carried a certain attractive quality with it – husky, but not excessively so – the kind of voice that wouldn’t be out of place narrating a nature documentary.
‘Did you like anything enough to buy it?’ he asked, bringing the subject back to the exhibition they were in. ‘Veils of Darkness, perhaps?’
Another smile from Mary, this one accompanied by an eyebrow lift.
‘I decided to skip that one.’ She pointed to Betsy’s Reflection painting on the wall to their right.
‘But I did like this piece very much. Unfortunately, I missed it by minutes apparently. I tried to charm the gallery owner… even offered him over the asking price, but no – he wasn’t having it. ’
‘Oh yeah,’ Thomas agreed. ‘I liked that one too… very complex.’ He then indicated the piece that Mary was looking at when he approached her – Fragmented. ‘This one is also very nice… very powerful.’
‘Oh damn!’ Mary said, consulting her watch. ‘I was just thinking about getting this one, but I’ve got to rush before the exhibition closes.’
‘Good choice.’ Thomas also checked his watch. ‘And yeah, this whole thing will close in just under five minutes, but there’s no real rush. If the piece hasn’t sold, they’ll still sell it to you after the exhibition has closed.’
‘Right.’ Mary made no attempt to hide the sarcasm in the way she nodded. ‘That’s exactly how I missed out on that piece.’ She pointed at the Reflection painting again.
‘Point taken,’ Thomas accepted.
‘Mary,’ Betsy called from the door to the room, grabbing Mary and Thomas’ attention. They were the only two left in that room. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’ She joined them by her own painting. ‘The exhibition is closing in about four minutes. Did you…’ Her eyes moved to Thomas and she went quiet.
Awkward facing each other situation – take three.
‘Betsy,’ Mary said, noticing the odd moment and wondering if she had done the exact same thing earlier. ‘This is Thomas.’ Her attention skipped to him. ‘Thomas, this is Betsy Fletcher.’
Thomas’ head tilted slightly right, as he recognized the name. ‘You’re the artist.’
Betsy’s smile was a little shy. ‘I am. Yes.’
‘Great pleasure to meet you,’ Thomas said, shaking Betsy’s hand. ‘You’re very talented. This was easily my favorite room tonight.’
‘Betsy.’ Mary interrupted the pleasantries. ‘I’m going to really quickly go talk to the gallery owner before the exhibition closes.’
‘Oh, OK,’ Betsy finally peeled her eyes away from Thomas. ‘I’ll come with you. I need to talk to him about something as well.’
Are you going to ask Thomas for his number, or what? the voice inside Mary’s head asked.
She completely ignored it. ‘Well,’ she said, facing him, ‘it was nice to meet you, Thomas.’ She gave him a polite head nod.
Betsy frowned ever so slightly.
‘The pleasure was mine,’ Thomas said back. This time, it was his eyes that lingered on Mary’s face for longer than expected, as if he wanted to say something else, but decided against it.
‘Bye,’ Betsy said. Her wave was just as timid as her smile.
Mary and Betsy exited the room and started down the corridor.
‘Wow!’ Betsy said, her eyes widening at Mary, as they turned left then right. ‘Did you just meet him tonight?’
Mary nodded. ‘Just after I got here.’
‘I’ve seen him before,’ Betsy said. ‘At different galleries and exhibitions around town. He must be a collector or something.’
‘Maybe. I didn’t ask.’
‘But you got his number, right?’
I told you.
‘No, I didn’t.’
Betsy stopped walking.
Mary followed suit.
‘Why not?’ Betsy asked. ‘He’s hot… and clearly into you. Did you notice the way that he was looking at you when you said goodbye.’
‘A little.’ Once again, Mary did her best to sound breezy.
They started walking again.
‘So why didn’t you ask for his number?’ Betsy pushed. ‘Or at least exchanged Instagram, Facebook… something.’
They exited the labyrinth and walked past the bar, which was already shut.
‘I don’t know about me asking him for his phone number,’ Mary said. ‘Sounds too desperate, don’t you think?’
Betsy chuckled. ‘Where are we? Mid-1980s? That kind of taboo is long gone.’
Mary paused, her lips pursing to one side, as she thought about it for an extra moment. ‘You don’t think it sounds desperate?’
‘Not at all.’ Betsy’s shake of the head seemed decisive. ‘And do you know what else I think? That he was probably about to ask you for your number, but you didn’t give him a chance. You shot out of that room like a bullet.’
Mary took another second. ‘So, you think I should go back?’
Yes.
‘Yes.’
For one thing, the voice in her head added. We could really do with some real sex. Give that poor rabbit a rest, you know what I’m saying?’
‘Shut up,’ Mary whispered.
‘No, I’m serious,’ Betsy replied, assuming that Mary was addressing her. ‘Go.’ She nodded in the direction of the labyrinth again. ‘Seriously… go.’
‘Alright.’ Mary gave in, quickening her step to get back to the corridor – two minutes to closing time. She then turned left then right and finally got back to room five – Betsy’s exhibition room.
It was empty.
Thomas was nowhere to be seen.
Annnnnd we’re back to the rabbit.