It is a mesmerizing depiction of new beginnings.
The nakedness symbolizes simplicity.
And the woman’s pose is beguiling and imbued with both pride and humility.
She is a goddess.
Like Mila.
It is The Birth of Venus, a painting by the Italian artist Sandro Botticelli created more than five hundred years ago or so during the Early Renaissance. It is one of the greatest nude paintings ever known as I suspect it will always be for hundreds of years to come.
A door shuts.
BOOM.
It steals my attention away from the pages I am flipping through of the book I hold in my hands. Slowly, I place it back down and face the mirror ahead. Fiddling with my hair, I smile and turn this way and that admiring the floral dress I had picked out for today. I feel pretty. And it’s a beautiful day. The sky is bright and there isn’t a cloud up there in the atmosphere. It’s clear blue and dotted with seagulls which dance and dip in the sky this morning.
Adriaan had left hours ago.
Before he departed he had asked me what I had planned to do with my day today and instead of offering him much of the same answer, today I was able to tell him something different although it was still much of a lie.
These days I tell Adriaan many half-lies and half-truths. They are omissions as most would call them. I make statements that are not necessarily lies but they aren’t truths either. There’s usually a great big part of the story missing which would make it complete if ever spoken aloud and ultimately incriminate me and confirm that I am in fact a bad wife. So, I only say as much as I need to, no more than that.
I will never fool myself into believing that it is still dishonesty but there is no other way and telling Adriaan the truth about much of anything is completely off the table unless I want to be sleeping in an alleyway and eating my dinner out of a boot.
“Tess!” Mila calls out my name.
“Yes!” I smile. “I’m up here.” I rush around quickly and spritz myself with more perfume and then I grab a hat that’s perfect for being beneath the sun and chic too. “I’m coming down in a minute!”
Standing in front of the mirror, I smooth the non-existent wrinkles of my dress out, ensure that my shoulders are high as well as my chin and then stride toward the door. I ignore the erratic pounding of my heart and the way my hands shake uncontrollably. Laughing a little to myself, I decide that another woman shouldn’t have this effect on another woman. This feels like the first time I had decided to put down the charcoal pencil and pick up a paintbrush completely uncertain if I knew just what I was doing. I was a bundle of nerves on that day, just like I am now…
What has Evi done?
Today, we will not be spending the day in the attic while I endlessly critique myself and put aside canvas after canvas so that I can begin again. Today, Mila will get to wear clothes. Today, I have put on a pretty dress. Today will be different.
Mila
WITH MY HANDS CLASPED, I stand in the foyer and look around.
This house feels different today.
Everything feels different today.
I had stayed up last night until the early hours of the morning gazing out the window at the bright moon and all the stars which twinkled in the sky. It was mesmerizing. These days all I do is look around and see things which are worth painting and capturing on canvas. After knowing an artist or a woman such as Tess, I suppose a person would never look at the world the same. I see color everywhere—yellows, blues, pinks and purples. The world has become a brighter place since I have learned to open my eyes and truly absorb all of its beauty.
I stroll forward a bit, look around and find Tess has left her customary cup of mint tea on the table which is front of her favorite window which means she sat there this morning to look out at the city.
I should know that will never change…
Light footsteps catch my attention and when Tess descends the flight of stairs ahead, I gasp at the vision of her wearing a floral dress made of the brightest colors.
“You look incredible.”
Tess pauses, poses and then puts her hat on in the most dramatic fashion then tilts it a little to the left. “Why, thank you.” She laughs. “I feel quite incredible today too.”
I peer beyond the stairs and focus for just a moment on that long corridor that becomes darker the farther you continue along it and remind myself of what I discovered yesterday which I will never have the courage to speak about. The contrast of what lingers down that hall with the woman in front of me is perplexing. But, I suppose we all have things in our lives which we don’t have the courage to talk about. We all have suffered through things which we would rather forget. And we all have things in our lives—people, places, memories—which we struggle to let go of.
Tess makes it to the bottom of the stairs, strides toward me and places the harshest kiss to my lips. “I’m so glad you came.” Giggling, she tosses an arm around me and pulls me close.
“I’m glad I’m here too.” I kiss her lips softly and soon it’s a full-on kissing session which I know I’ll never grow tired of. “I have such a wonderful surprise planned for you today, Tess.” I shove down my excitement and my gaze swings to that ticking clock on the wall which confirms we don’t have much time left. “We should go.”
Tess laughs. “Yes, we should go.”
Reaching out, I grab the handle of the beautiful door I know I’ll never forget and yank it open. Still smiling, I move forward and step outside to linger on the first step. I breathe in the salty breeze and embrace the sun that shines down on my skin which leaves it warm and tingly all over. I glance over my shoulder to find Tess staring back at me, eyes wide, spirit frozen, body completely immovable.
A breath catches in my throat.
This can never be what you want it to be, Mila. I am nothing like you. I will never be like you. I am not what you want. I am not what you need…
“Tess.” The sound of her name spoken from my lips drifts on the wind.
She says nothing only stares unblinking at the world beyond this doorstep as if it’s a cruel, cruel place she wants NO parts of.
“Tess.” Reaching a hand out, I nearly beg for her to take mine.
I will always be right here in this house and in this attic waiting for you so that I can paint you. I’m not going any place else, I promise you, Mila.
“Tess, please.” Everything in my soul begs her to take my hand.
But she doesn’t move.
My world is simple and uncomplicated and full of the same…
This house. My art. My window.
A thick tear slips from left eye and trickles its way down my cheek.
The very same thing happens to the woman standing in front of me.
All that separates us right now is a few footsteps and I pray, pray, pray she will take them.
This can never be what you want it to be, Mila. I am nothing like you. I will never be like you. I am not what you want. I am not what you need…
“Tess.” My voice cracks. “Tess, please, come and take my hand.”
“I’m sorry, Mila, I just can’t. I thought I could, but I can’t. I wanted to try for you, I really did, but I just can’t.” Tess stomps forward, grabs the door handle with unmistakable force and shuts the very large bright pink door right-in-my-face.
BOOM.