Chapter 4

4

ELLIE

H aving said all her goodbyes and hugged all of her newly acquired friends—even Marceline, for by the end of the evening, they made peace—Ellie spilled out of the house onto the rain-showered streets. She had taken a bus to Fred's but feeling the rain-freshened air bloom in her lungs, she decides to walk back home. Her mind feels swollen with thoughts and remnants of alcohol, but each step replenishes her clarity of thought, lifting her spirits up as well. For now, she refuses to think, only taking deep breaths, knowing that the avalanche of reflections will befall her soon enough.

Somewhere in the middle of the way, she remembers Tatiana Khan's shattered expression upon hearing the blunt criticism of The Swing, blown out of proportion. The image of Tatiana's muddy-brown eyes looking from across the table with disappointment and hurt stirs something within Ellie, maybe even regret.

Tatiana had been much more attractive than Ellie had imagined. Her shimmering red hair had made Ellie want to capture it on canvas, it was like no color she had ever seen before.

She shakes her head to reject the image, reminding herself that she only spoke her mind. Artists should be able to handle critique, she keeps reminding herself, jumping over puddles of water like a little child. The streets observe her with a quiet emptiness.

And Tatiana might have been beautiful, but she was still an arrogant pain in the ass.

The truth is, Ellie really dislikes the bolder paintings of Tatiana Khan. What surprised her during the argument, however, was Tatiana's insistence on Ellie's unoriginality. She has, naturally, heard before that her paintings weren't exciting, but that is a sentiment commonly encountered by landscape artists.

Nonetheless, she has always thought that her paintings remained imbued with a tenderness and sensitivity, especially open to be perceived by other artists. Now, she almost feels betrayed. The silence around the two didn't help either, making Ellie think that the others agreed with Tatiana's point. To shake away the irritating thoughts, she decides to stop by a particularly inviting perfume store and buy herself a beautifully smelling treat.

"What scents do you prefer, Ma'am?" The bored saleswoman is quick to jump from her desk, seeing Ellie enter.

"Something fresh. Citrusy, for sure," Ellie smiles, eyeing the little bottles.

She ends up purchasing a lemon zest & cinnamon fragrance, perfect in her mind, to welcome spring. Perfume has always been an important part of her personality, and an unfortunately expensive tool to cope with unpleasant emotions.

With the newly purchased scent in her purse, she decides to make the rest of the way by bus, feeling her legs grow tired. The affair with Tatiana still rattling around her mind, she hears her phone ring.

"Yes?" She picks up.

"Hi! It's Emma, I'm calling to remind you about your exhibition opening in three days?"

Ellie chuckles a bit at the thought that she could somehow forget such an important event, nonetheless grateful for the reminder.

"Hi Emma, thanks a lot. Are there any new important guests, guests I don't know about?"

Emma pauses for a bit, and Ellie can hear her exhale into the phone.

"Yes… Actually. Margaret said she would show up."

The news tightens Ellie's chest, a grief worked over and healed, all the same present. She sits down at a nearby bench, waiting for her bus to arrive. She hasn't seen Margaret in a year and was not really expecting her to show up out of nowhere.

"Alright, well. She is a part of the art world, and we're on civil terms," says Ellie rationally, though little needles of anxiety sting her lungs.

"Great, you have all the details in your mailbox," summarizes Emma. "See you there?"

"See you there. Make sure to go over everything twice." And having said so, Ellie hangs up.

Her complex feelings for Margaret manage to eclipse her grievances related to Tatiana for the duration of the bus ride. Her old love, always a difficult person, could be a true challenge to manage during events. Getting off on her street and standing in front of the front door, however, Ellie decides to cast all the worries aside for the night.

She prepares chamomile tea and plays French New Wave films, for a moment silently criticizing herself for procrastinating her French lessons. Bundled up, she lets the melodic language carry her troubling feelings, and finally, enveloped by her thick blanket, she drifts away to sleep somehow unable to completely get thoughts of Tatiana bloody Khan and her shimmering red hair and full lips out of her head.