Peter steps alongside him. “It’s my favorite of these.”
The two of them begin to work. “Do you think your father will let me show one of your photographs alongside mine?” asks Peter. William is quiet for a moment, and then says that he isn’t sure. “Will you ask him?” adds Peter. William glances up with an uncertain gaze. Then he nods. They hardly speak as they arrange the remaining pictures. Although they don’t have time to hang all of the photographs, they finish laying out the order of the exhibit, so that each frame leans against its place on the wall. The two of them stand in the center of the gallery, making a last examination of their work, when Murat appears in the doorway.
“William, it’s time to go home,” says his father, who then steps cautiously into the gallery and glances at the walls. “Is this your latest exhibit, Peter?” Murat clasps his hands behind his back as he strolls the perimeter with his head craned forward, making a careful examination of each photograph. “You usually do portraits. What gave you such an idea?”
“Do you like it?” Peter asks.
Murat takes a few more paces around the gallery. The echo of his steps is the only sound as Peter awaits a verdict. “In fact, I do. Much more than your other work.” Murat unclasps his hands from behind his back and leans deeply toward the photograph of both the white and the black bird. “This one in particular, the symmetry,” he says. “The two birds perfectly balance one another.” Murat offers his hand to Peter. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”
Peter nods gratefully and the two of them shake.
“We’ll see you at the opening in a couple of weeks,” says Murat. He then places his arm around his son’s shoulders and pulls him close. “It’s late and he has school tomorrow and then work with me afterward.” Peter glances down at William, encouraging him to tell Murat and to take credit for his work so that it might hang on the wall of his father’s museum. As Murat leads him away, William turns his head toward his father, as if he might ask him something.
Murat cuts him off. “Hurry, your mother is waiting. She’s tired and wants to go home.” And so father and son walk out the door, to search for Catherine, who lingers in the thinning crowd.