The Right Choice - Chapter 3

I wanna say thank you to everyone who has commented on the new stories but most of all, Floppy Disc who so far has commented on every chapter. What can I say...I absolutely love you! This is dedicated to you!

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Stephan looked at the sign above the door, Alana's Art Gallery, and then turned to me, a silent question mark in his gaze.

"How did you know?" he asked softly.
I shrugged, reluctant to admit how.
"Well, okay and don't laugh, but...you have really pretty hands!" I exclaimed and he grinned. It was one of those; isn't she mad? type of smiles. I laughed a little.
"And when you kissed me...you're hands were really soft and there was paint under your nails. And I know it sounds really stupid, but I just had a slight suspicion. I take it I was right?"

He ran his hand through his hair and nodded.
"Yeah. I like to draw, and paint too sometimes. I was painting this morning". I grinned and pulled on his arm. We pushed through the small doors and instantly my nose was assaulted by a hundred different scents. But after taking a few seconds to sift through all of them I realized they were pleasant. Paint, cheese, wine, orange juice, summer breeze...and a lot of perfume and cologne which tarnished it all slightly.

It was a small gallery, one floor, and about twenty pictures on display. It wasn't very packed, a few people here and there. I glanced at Stephan's face and instantly knew this was the right place for him. He felt at home here, he felt comfortable. He tugged me towards the first picture; one I recognized from TV. Dogs around a table playing poker. I smiled, it was such a serious looking picture, about the most ridiculous notion ever.

"Cassius Coolidge painted this. It's one of my favorites" he murmured into my ear.

We moved on to the next one. A little girl sitting in a boat beside some reeds, pale bored face framed by a beautiful head of copper curls. A bonnet rested on her hair, her face lay in her hand. Behind her there was a pug, and underneath her feet was a blanket. I wondered what she was thinking? Why was she bored? What was she doing in the boat by herself? Had she been waiting for a friend, a boyfriend, a lover perhaps and they were late? Or had she just needed some time alone? The possibilities were endless. Stephan didn't have anything to say...he was busy thinking too. Eventually we had to move on.

We saw a Vincent Van Gogh picture. Then we came to a picture that took my breath away.

It was a little boy, about five or six. He was wearing black knee-length shorts and nothing else. His hair was short, black and spiked. He was standing up, his body facing a door, his head looking back over his shoulder. It was his face that made me want to break down into tears. There was so much pain and sorrow in those little eyes. A crystal tear was resting on his cheek, and his lips were parted as if he were about to cry out. And his hand, it was open, he was holding it slightly out from his body, as if waiting for someone. Someone to hold him and cuddle him. It the most beautiful yet heart breaking thing I'd ever seen. Stephan gasped quietly. I looked at him and saw that he was crying.

"What's wrong?" I asked.
He sniffed and took a deep breath.

"That's me" he said simply. My eyes widened. I compared him to the little boy in the painting. I could see the resemblance...but...the boy's face was so distorted with anguish it was hard to believe they were the same person. That any real person could hurt so much.

"What happened?"
"I was five. And my mother was diagnosed with Leukemia. She was a painter. She always used me as her inspiration. But I remember that day so clearly. She came home from the doctors and she was wiped out. I had never seen her so tired. I asked her what was wrong, and that was when my dad came in. His eyes were red raw from crying. They told me, they had to! I didn't understand all of it, just that she was dying. And my little heart broke. My mother, my own mother, who I loved with all I had in me, was dying. She was leaving me! And then she jumped up, and asked me if I could do one last favour for her. And I agreed, of course I did. And she painted me. I didn't care that my shoulder was killing, or that I badly had to go to the toilet, I stayed there. For her. After that, she couldn't paint again. The smell made her violently sick, and she had no strength. I had to grow up very quickly, even though my dad was always there for me."

I stared at him. Poor Stephan! My eyes were stinging.

"Oh, Stephan..." I reached out and gripped his hand. He closed his eyes and then wiped his cheeks.

"Look" he pointed to the bottom of the painting. Sarah N Williams.
"She always used her maiden name. And I don't know why I'm acting like this. I've accepted what happened. I suppose it's because I'd never seen the painting she did of me. She wouldn't let me. Said it would be like looking into a mirror of pain, and that she'd already inflicted so much on me. More than any five year old should have ever. " he whispered.

What a sad story. I tugged on his hand and looked at me.
"Hey, at least you've seen it now. You know she loved you a lot. And I'm glad you told me. I feel privileged". In the painting, his face was surrounded by a faint gold glow. But if you could understand, you could get get that it was like a halo. Sarah was basically painting about her little angel.
"And it's because of you"

I shook my head.
"Not really" I muttered. He turned fully towards me, and gently pulled my chin up so I could meet his gaze. He stared in my eyes. I swallowed.

"Thank you" and I could tell he meant it. I shrugged. He cracked a small smile, and then, taking me complete by surprise, bent and kissed me slowly. When he pulled away, I grinned, because I honestly could not help it.

"Ready for the next picture?" I asked.

I watched his face as he gazed at a painting with un-disguised love. It was amazing really. That he had grown up to be a painter, like his mum. I still couldn't believe that he had been through so much as a little boy. My eyes drifted down to where his fingers were entwined with mine. He wasn't that annoying...
~*~*~*~*~*~*
We were on our way back to my house. We were laughing about some random painting that we'd seen. Some woman's boob was sitting on her head or something. All of a sudden he lurched to a stop. I stopped too.

"What?"
"There" he whispered pointing up to the sky. I followed his finger and gasped. There was a star the size of my fist, glowing furiously. As if trying to say something.
I grinned at him and he smiled back.
"Wow" I breathed.
"Yeah"

"I think that's a message. From your mum" I whispered. He peeked at me.
"What? What does it say?"
"It says; Stephan I love you and I want you to have a happy and successful life" I answered seriously. He looked down.

"Thanks, for trying to cheer me up"
"It's fine. Now can we please get home? I don't know about you, but I'm starving!" I moaned and he chuckled.

We were only about a street away from my road. He eyed it and then suddenly took off.
"RACE YOU!" He called back. I rolled my eyes. Okay, then, if that was what he wanted.