She walked through the door, and every head turned. An air of confidence followed her as she strolled through the crowd. She smiled and the room lit up. I was studying a painting until she came up behind me.
"Pondering the meaning of this painting?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.
Startled out of my private reverie, I turned around smiling sheepishly and laughed.
"No not really to be honest."
She cocked her eyebrows, amused she asked, "No?"
"No, because what it means to me would be different from that of what the artist had. The artist's own history influenced the choice of colours and medium. Therefore, the artist painted this piece to mean something to her. But my own history will be different to hers and therefore it has a different meaning to me." I rattled off.
I turned to face her and suddenly blushed, bemused at my audacity, "sorry, didn't mean to lecture you there."
She laughs, a husky sensual laugh, only loud enough for me to hear.
"Two things," she says, "firstly, don't worry about this so called lecture. I'm rather tired of people trying to think of the meanings and then thinking that they know the artist intimately. It's not often I actually find someone who is bold enough to think and even bolder to say it aloud. Secondly, how do you know it's a woman? The artist I mean."
"Ooh, would you believe me if I said gut instinct?" I say as I look at the painting once again. I feel her eyes studying my face; feel them tracing my jaw, then my neck.
She takes a step closer, so I can feel her warmth radiating onto my skin and I can hint a soft trace of her perfume. She leans even closer till her lips nearly touch my ear.
"I think it's more than just a gut feeling," she whispers into my ear.
Suddenly all five of my senses are overwhelmed by her presence. My head formulates the response but my mouth is unable to pronounce the words. She stands back taking out a card, scribbles something on the back and hands it to me.
"I think that you and I can have a great discussion about your gut feelings. I have to be here to till the end, make the rounds you know. But if you're still around by the end, I would love for you to join me for a coffee. If you do leave before, my number and address is on the back. We can make a date and have this coffee and discussion." She says smiling and walks away.
I look down at the card, read the name. Toni Mendez, now that sounds familiar. I look back at the painting and finally read the description on the side:
"Longing, by Toni Mendez."
I spin around, only to catch her smiling at me and winking. I blush even more. How did I not realise that she was the artist with her questions? And how could I answer them the way I did?
I suddenly panic at the thought of how will answer this "gut feeling" answer I gave. I rattle off a few possibilities in my head, but then thought a gut feeling explanation should not be thought of. It should be spontaneous. Ah, I think to myself, you just declared that you will be waiting then for the end.
I spend the next few hours moving from one painting to another. None of them however caught my attention like the first piece. There was something about that painting that enthralled me. Half gazing at the paintings, half scanning the crowd just to see her smiling and laughing at potential buyers. I'm going to buy that piece I think to myself, and make my way back to the piece. But when I got there, I saw a "sold" sticker over the price.
"Fuck." I mutter underneath my breath and turn around. Nearly bumping into Toni.
"Oh. Sorry. I didn't realise you were behind me." I say apologetic.
"That's how I wanted it," she laughs, "you look disappointed."
"Yeah, I was going to buy this piece but I see that someone else had the offer."
The owner of the gallery walks up to me holding a few papers.
"Excuse me Miss; these are the papers verifying that the piece is now yours. Would like us to hold it here until you depart or would you like for us to place it in your car?"
"I think there must be a mix up, I didn't buy this piece," I reply confused.
He laughs "Miss Mendez here gave me strict instructions to refuse any obstructions. I believe, Miss, that she has given you the piece."
"Take it up to my place John, she'll collect it from there later." She says smiling.
John turns with a smile and directs his staff members. I look at Toni, not really sure what to say.
"Uh, I don't think a thank you would be the right words to describe the honour," I say to her, "I never introduced myself, I'm Carla."
"It's a pleasure to meet you Carla," she says taking my hand, "consider it a gift from an appreciative artist to a truthful observer."
"More likely an uneducated observer compared to the masses of art connoisseurs present here."
"Ah, see, the connoisseurs are too cocky with their explanations. The uneducated, as you describe yourself, are the truthful observers. They do not allow their so called knowledge to cloud their judgements. These connoisseurs allow other influences to dictate their instincts." She says as she slowly lets go of my hand and walks away.
The night finally came to an end, and as the last few people strayed, Toni made her way to me with John.
"John, I'd like to introduce you to Carla." She says as she flanks my side.
"Pleasure to meet you Carla; you must've made a big impression. Toni usually loathes half of the attendees on nights such as this," he says as we shook hands.
I laugh half embarrassed, "I think it was my audacity of challenging her question on her own piece."
"John and I are old friends," she explains, "If it wasn't for him, I'd still be painting in my studio for nothing."
"Now that's not true," turning towards me he says, "you look familiar, if you don't me asking, are you from around here?"
"Not originally, but I do own the coffee shop on the corner. My aim was to buy a few paintings tonight for my shop. I believe the paintings in a shop make the atmosphere. I want people to think about a painting and think how it affects them. And why they like it or not."
"A philosopher and an art lover, she gets better by the second Toni. Now you two enjoy the rest of the night." He wishes us well and walks away.
She places her arm on mine and leads me to her place. Her lounge completely different from what I had imagined it to be. I had imagined it to be like those pictures you see in the magazines. Very modernistic, and sometimes slightly cold. However, it had that homely feeling to it. In which you become comfortable really quickly and relax immediately.
She walks to the kitchen and switches the jug on. Gets two mugs down from the self and looks at me.
"Now let me see if I can get this right."
"Get what right?" I ask.
