A wide range of people milled about—different ages and ethnicities, art lovers and pretenders. Abstract paintings filled the first room, and attendees stared up at large and small canvases in either wonder or confusion. In the center of the room, several tables displayed hand-made jewelry consisting of precious and semi-precious stones. There was plenty of conversation, and the sound of live music came from somewhere deeper in the warehouse.
As Carlos strolled through, a couple of paintings caught his eye, but nothing that tempted him to purchase a piece. He stopped in front of one in particular that gave him an idea for one of his own works. Crossing his arms over his chest, he studied the strokes and design and then moved farther into the warehouse where the real action was.
He took the three steps down to the concrete floor where a plethora of artists—sculptors, painters, crafters—had assembled, and a band playing soft rock performed on a stage. On the other side of the room, directly across from the musicians, a long line snaked from the open bar and tables overflowed with snacks, including two chocolate fountains—one offering white chocolate and the other offering milk chocolate.
Carlos perused the artists’ works, stopping for a few minutes to admire a guy painting a landscape on a semi-nude model on a pedestal. Another sold prints, and still another painted portraits on a ten-by-ten canvas. With so much activity and energy in the air, he could be here for several hours, and he’d be energized and inspired for days—possibly weeks—to come.
He strolled over to where a woman displayed ceramic vases of different sizes on a couple of tables. They were attention-grabbing, and he considered getting one as a gift for his mother. For years she placed fresh flowers in their home, bringing a splash of color into often drab surroundings.
“How much is this one?”
About to pick up one of the vases, the question made him freeze. Slowly, Carlos turned toward the sound of Carmen’s voice and saw her in front of a table filled with handmade dolls.
She looked like she’d been poured into a pair of skin-hugging denim capris and a beige skintight blouse with short sleeves. Wearing her hair in a topknot exposed her neck, reminding him of kissing that sensitive skin and drawing in a deep breath filled with the scent of roses. Carmen used rosewater as an astringent after she cleansed her face and spritzed it on multiple times during the day.
The vendor must have answered her, but he only heard Carmen’s voice. “That’s a good deal. In that case, I’ll take two,” she said.
He stared at the back of her head, trying to decide what to do. Stay or go? He hadn’t called since he saw her two weeks ago, but she was right there, giving him another opportunity to connect.
Carlos swallowed hard. Would she even want to talk to him?
Didn’t matter. He’d regretted deleting her number and wanted to talk to her.
She handed over some cash, and while she waited for the woman to wrap the dolls, Carlos walked up beside her.
“Hi, Carmen.”
She took a startled step back, eyes going wide. “Carlos.”
“Surprise.” He smiled.
She blinked, seeming uncertain about how to react to him. He understood, because he hadn’t been particularly friendly the last time, and he hadn’t called like he said he would.
She straightened the cross-body bag on her hip. “Is your work on display here tonight?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. I’m only here to check out the event.”
“Oh, that makes sense then.” She murmured the words, and he almost missed them.
“What makes sense?”
“Well…Natalie organized this event. If you were a participant, she would have told me.”
“And if you’d known that I was one of the artists, would you have come?”
“I don’t want to answer that.” She turned her head so he could only see her profile.
“Here you go, ma’am. Thank you for your purchase.” The vendor handed over a brown paper-wrapped package, and Carmen hugged it to her chest.
“Thank you.” She glanced up at Carlos. “Well, it was good seeing you again. Take care.”
He took several seconds to recover from her abrupt departure, but he used long strides to catch up and grabbed her arm below the elbow. “Wait.”
Carmen looked at him with something akin to panic in her eyes. For his part, he almost couldn’t let her go. Her soft skin brought back so many memories. Reluctantly, he released her arm.
“Don’t leave yet. I… accidentally deleted your number.”
“Don’t lie, Carlos. You didn’t want to call me, and you didn’t. If my number was deleted from your phone, it’s because you erased it.”
Same old Carmen, not afraid to call him out on his crap.
“You’re right. I deleted your number because I didn’t think it would be a good idea for us to stay in touch.”
She glanced down at her sandaled feet, hiding the expression in her eyes. “And now?”
His gaze traveled over her face, chest tightening with the burning desire to be closer to her, to talk to her, to simply stay in close proximity. They came from different worlds, but he’d confided in Carmen more than any other living soul—more than his own mother, with whom he was very close. Carmen had peeled back the layers and learned all about his insecurities, dreams, and desires.
At the same time, she exposed him to so much. Private dinners at fancy restaurants he couldn’t afford on his own and how to pair wine with his food. In exchange, he exposed her to his mother’s culture and Peruvian cuisine. He bragged about his Quechuan heritage and of being a descendant of the Incas. He promised one day to take her to Lima and to the Highlands, where some of his mother’s family still lived.
At his family’s apartment, she behaved as if every meal they ate was haute cuisine, the best food she’d ever had. Her eyes always sparkled with excitement, so of course his family loved her, and her enthusiasm made his chest stick out.
“I no longer feel like it’s a bad idea for us to stay in touch. I feel like… honestly, I regretted deleting your number. Would you be willing to give it to me again?” He prayed that the Carmen he knew, who didn’t have a vindictive bone in her body, would give him another chance.
During the brief pause, she studied him, a frown dipped low between her eyes. He could almost see the war taking place inside her head but didn’t utter a sound or make a move, worried if he did either, she’d refuse.
Finally, she took a deep breath as she came to a final decision. “Okay.”
Carlos almost collapsed with relief.
He entered her number into his contacts again and then immediately called her so she could have his number.
“Will you be here for a little bit longer? I just got here,” Carlos said.
“I got here maybe thirty minutes ago. I could stick around for a bit longer.”
“I would like that. We could check out the exhibits together.”
A small smile came to her face. “And you could educate me on all the things I don’t know about art.”
He laughed softly, his body relaxing because being with Carmen made him feel as if nothing else mattered, and the weight of the world wasn’t so heavy after all. She’d always made him feel that way.
“So you’re going to listen to me go on and on?”