Looking at the past

Jones relished quiet Saturdays. Reclining in his armchair with a book, he let the hum of the air conditioner blend into his thoughts—until his phone broke the silence.

“Hello, who is it?”

‘It’s Karen! You don’t recognize my voice?’

“Oh, hi Karen. How’s your weekend going?”

“Jones, listen. I’m at the front of your building near the mailboxes. Come down there’s something I want to show you.’ Her voice was bubbling with an excitement Jones couldn’t quite place.

“Your downstairs? And you didn’t tell me you were coming? What’s this all about?”

“Can’t say. You have to see it for yourself.”

He sat silently for a moment, not wanting to move.

“So, you can’t come up? You want me to come down?”

“Yep, that’s what I said. C'mon get your butt down here!”

“Alright give me a few minutes.”

He hung up, and put a glossy cardboard bookmark in his book, before putting it on the chairside table. Quickly, he dashed into his room and looked in the mirror of his built-in wardrobe to make sure he looked presentable. He was wearing a black Adidas tracksuit, but it was in mint condition, as he’d only bought it yesterday. Stepping into some slippers, he checked his pockets for the trinity of keys, wallet and phone, before heading outside to the elevator.

The glass doors to the reception area opened, and soon enough the mailboxes were in sight, though he didn’t see Karen anywhere.

“Over here dingus!”

And then he saw her, just to the right of the letterboxes. She had been behind a small crowd of people, which had just dispersed. Oddly, she was taking a photo of him with her phone, he heard the snap just as he turned towards her.

‘What’s going on? Why are you photographing me?”

She gave him a sly look.

“It’s a before photo. Later there’s going to be an after photo. Come on follow me.”

He thought about protesting, but decided he couldn’t be bothered. The two of them set off at a brisk pace. The street was crowded, a typical day in the city, especially in his district.

“So, this is some kind of surprise?”

“You could say that.”

“What’s the occasion? My birthday was four months ago.”

“No occasion. I just have something awesome to show you.”

He was curious, no doubt about it. But he also found himself wondering how whatever event she had planned would go. Jones and Karen had been in a relationship 2 years ago. They had called it off respectfully, and agreed that they would stay friends, but he had not had a lot to do with her since. They had stopped calling each other, and seemed content not to have a lot to do with each other at Sainsbury’s, the firm where they both worked. Karen worked a floor below him in tech support, where as he did office administration a floor above. No doubt, Karen seemed cheerful, which he was happy to see, but he was completely baffled by what she might have in store for him.

He realized they were standing in front of the city art gallery, and Karen had stopped.

“We’re going in there?” He said, pointing.

“Yup, come with me.”

They walked through a revolving door, and once inside, the echoing silence of the art gallery descended upon them. Karen still looked chipper, though she was no longer talking.

“This way.” She whispered.

They walked through a room that was covered in surrealist paintings. He recognized James Gleeson, and Rene Magritte, but did not have time to take the rest of the room in as Karen navigated the gallery speedily. Soon they were taking an escalator down. Karen maintained a respectful silence, her eyes looking down up ahead, and he found himself studying her face, trying to guess what she had in mind. Her lips seemed to naturally rest in an impish smile, and though she appeared lost in her thoughts, he thought he saw the glimmer of determination in her gaze.

Once down to the basement floor, she turned to him and whispered.

“It’s just in the room up ahead.”

Soon they were standing in front of a giant painting of a city scape. The buildings were painted in hues of purple and indigo, while the sky contrasted a burning orange behind them.

“What do you think?” She asked, grinning.

He stared at the painting for a while before replying. “It’s, nice… why are we here?”

“You’re looking at my work Jones. The gallery is displaying local artists, and I’ve got three pieces on display!”

His jaw dropped. “I wasn’t expecting that. You’re an artist?”

Her face became serious, and though she was looking in the direction of the painting, her eyes seemed to be staring straight through it, at some distant horizon.

“Yeah. What do you know huh? I know we were together for a considerable amount of time, but I guess there were parts of my life that I never got to share.”

He continued to look at the painting, but inside he was processing her words. Karen had been an artist? Why hadn’t she told him? Why hadn’t he found out? Looking back at Karen, he saw her looking at him. There was something in her eyes, like she was in the middle of making a judgment about him.

“You said you had three pieces on display? Where are the other 2?

Karen, smiled warmly. “Come, I’ll show you.”

They stopped in front a painting that was about half the size of the last one. 2 figures stood slightly apart, facing away from each other. Between them a swirling void took up a great deal of the painting.

“This one is different…” He said softly.

Looking at this particular painting, he wondered. Were these figures representations of Karen and him? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Karen, gazing at the painting with expectation in her eyes. He felt that she wanted him to look deeply at this painting. It made him think of their time together as a couple. Why hadn’t it worked out? As he recalled, at the end of the relationship, she had said she thought that he wasn’t happy, and he had said the same thing to her. He was sure they had tried. They had had their fights, but were mostly congenial with each other, but always there was the unspoken sentiment that something was lacking. Karen had always said that she wanted complete intimacy with her partner, a sort of spiritual connection, but that had always seemed to be impossible for him. He knew the whole time they were together, that he should have felt gratitude, but instead it seemed that they were limited by what they had in common, which was not much. He had always tried to please her, but she had seemed to treat him like something was ingenuine. The parting was handled respectfully, it had been a course of action taken after some deliberation.

“What do you think?” She asked.

“I like it, though it makes me feel sad.”

“Yeah?”

He wasn’t sure if he should tell her what he was thinking, so he decided to say nothing.

“Come see the last one.”

Just off to the left was the final picture. A many coloured bird was flying in front of the sun, and the picture was painted with a bright and vivid set of hues. The bird was taking flight from a hand, which came from the lower section of the painting.

“This one is amazing. It represents, freedom?”

“Is that what you see in it?”

“Maybe, I mean I don’t know. I’m not good at perceiving these sorts of things. But that is my guess.”

She was silent for a moment.

“Would you like to stop in the galleries café and have a coffee with me?”

“Sure.”

2 levels up, the café had a decent view of the city outside. In a few moments they were sitting at a table next to the window with their coffee. Karen had both her hands on the cup, and was looking out the window wistfully.

“So, what inspired you to do those paintings?” Jones asked her.

She continued to look out the window for a while before replying.

“I guess whatever was on my mind at the time… but in saying that it was after our break up.”

He took a breath, the silence demanding speech.

“I see. I think I understand some of the paintings a little, but what do they mean to you?”

She looked him in the eye. “The city scape was how I felt when we first started our relationship. The initial excitement, the shared world we were building together. The second painting was how things became. The distance that always seemed to be between us. The last one was also the last one I painted. I struggled a lot with the break up. You told me you loved me, and I wanted to believe that, but I’m not sure if it was so simple. For a long time, I thought you’d lied to me. It took me time to get over that. But when I started to realize were just different people, I was able to let go. You were right the last painting is about freedom. Freedom for both of us.”

At the end of the day, they posed for a selfie, the after shot that she had told him would happen. She sent him a copy of it. When he got home, he took out his phone to look at it again. Her beautiful face was smiling, and so was he, but he was sure he could see something behind it. Was it belying a new sense of awe at all that Karen had shown him? Or perhaps it was regret once again at all that had ended between them. He remembered the painting of the bird, and realized that she was happy now, even when he had never been able to make her feel that way.