“Oh, thank you so much. I really appreciate you coming.”
“You’re welcome and-”
“I’m so sorry,” she suddenly gasped. “Excuse me, please. I need to catch up with someone lest he gets spirited away.” She laughed and then disappeared among the numerous guests she had invited from different places across the world.
“Would you like to have another drink?” I asked Fiona.
“Yes, thank you. “
“I’ll be right back.”
By the time I returned, she was already staring at another painting. I could feel the connection between her and the painting from how she gazed upon the artwork. Momentarily, her eyes fluttered, and her lips parted.
“I think you have a predilection for paintings.” I came to stand next to her, handing her a drink.
“Thank you.” She smiled.
“Now, what do we have here?” I attempted to study the brainchild manifested through strokes of brushes before me.
It was a presentation of a personality. My eyes wandered to the bottom ward corner where the title was written.
Leigh Bowery.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
“No.”
“What does it say?” I thought she might have more reasonable feedback for the artist.
“Sheer expression.” She sipped from her glass.
When Fiona eventually snatched her mind from the infatuating magic of Phoebe’s walls of paintings, we could settle in a corner of the large hall far from the inevitable chit-chatting and ridiculous critiquing of many of the guests.
Fiona had brought up the memories of our silly childhood acts, especially those of Allison’s, and we were seriously cracking at them.
“Do you remember her doing that silly impersonation of Mr. Bean?” She said amidst fits of laughter.
“How can I ever forget the great ridicule she made of herself?” I laughed.
“And her silly pranks,”
“They are a zillion...” I chuckled.
“Seriously!” She chortled. “I wish she was here and could watch us make fun of her.”
“Yeah, but I doubt she’d spare us.”
“Not at all.” She smiled. I could see the light bouncing off her round cheeks. I might as well tell her she was cute.
“There was a time you posed as Marilyn Monroe,” she jerked as if she had suddenly remembered after trying so hard.
I wouldn’t agree with that stupid behavior, though I knew and remembered that I had done it.
“I’m certain you did.” She pouted.
“When was that?” I pretentiously asked.
“I think it was during a time on the boat. One of the swimming Saturdays.”
Ah! She really could recollect, but I would never be the one to admit it. It was so awkward and undignified.
“No, that never happened,” I lied to cover up the spontaneous silliness the teen version of myself had irrationally exhibited.
“I don’t agree. You should remember,” she pressed. “ Allison caught a trout that day and,” she paused for a moment. “ It had also rained heavily that morning.”
But I wasn’t still going to admit it.
“Really?” I feigned ignorance.
“Yes, I wonder why you can’t remember it. It was so funny.” She muttered to herself, her lashes fluttering. I found the mere act so cute.
“Are you hungry?” I immediately veered the conversation towards a new direction.
However, sincerely, my stomach was already grumbling for food. We had only had drinks since the gala began.
“Ah, I am, actually-”
“Christian?”
