This was the third time this week Landon Matthews had seen her staring at the same painting. He only came that one time to meet his favorite artist, now he just seemed gay coming here every night with a cluster of men. Landon turned toward the woman. His eyes gradually made their way from the bottom of her toned legs, to the top of her wavy, black hair. Landon dissected every detail of this woman, slowing to follow the flow of the curves in her tight dress. Landon could feel his heart begin to pump faster. He turned his attention to his friends.
His buddies were always willing to play wingman for him since they met freshman year at New York University. It surprised girls to know Landon’s shy, southern charm and clunky glasses could make friends with the likes of Neil Doogat, a well known athlete and ladies’ man. Landon was always the odd ball of the group, but knew that’s what the guys loved about him. Sure, they teased him every now and then, but that made him “one of the guys.” He gained some confidence and a new look because of it.
“Go over there and talk to her, Man. You know you want to,” said Doogat, as he lightly jabbed his friend’s arm.
The other two men chuckled. With his free hand, Landon held the spot where he had been prodded, and took a final sip from his champagne flute with the other.
“She’s so beautiful,” he said to them, but more to himself. “Why is she standing there alone?”
Doogat chimed in, “Maybe because twenty-five year old guys like you don’t have the balls to ask her out! Come on, Man. You ask us here every night just so you can talk to her. When are you gonna do it?”
“Hey, she doesn’t have a drink,” Landon added.
“Oh really?” They all laughed.
Landon stared trance-like at the feminine figure before him.
“You talk our ears off all the time about this girl and what you want to say to her, well now here’s your chance. Did I not teach you anything? Go for it.”
After a moment, Landon regained awareness. “What? The last time I took your advice it didn’t end so well.”
Landon was referring to their sophomore year at NYU, when he had asked for Doogat’s opinion on how to get a date with the pretty red head down the hall. Doogat had told him about the tested and true pick up lines his father used to teach him. Supposedly they were original and witty and girls loved that shit. Landon wasn’t quite sure if those lines Doogat told him would work, but he was willing to try. One afternoon, Landon had seen the red head in the hall and was not about to miss an opportunity.
She had been busy fussing with her key in the door when Landon went up to her.
“Hi,” he croaked.
The red head had looked at him blankly. “Yes?”
“I’m Landon.” Silence. “I’ve seen you around and just wanted to introduce myself.”
“Ok.”
She had finally unlocked her door and was about to open it when Landon added, “by the way, can I ask you something?” He had stood still wringing his hands.
“What?” the girl barked.
That was it, time to show her what he was made of. Landon had put on a smooth voice as he asked, “Are your parents retarded, ‘cause you are something special!” He had ended with a bright grin.
“Ugh, you jerk!” The door to the red head’s dorm had slammed in Landon’s face.
Since that encounter, he had made sure to keep far away and was always weary of taking Doogat’s “advice.”
“Sorry about that, Dude. That was pretty funny though.” The guys laughed.
Landon gave a crooked smile and straightened his posture. “Ha. Ha. Just watch a master at work.” He turned around to face the woman as he took a deep breath. When one of the servers came by holding a try of champagne filled glasses, Landon quickly placed his on top and took a full one. “Thanks.” Landon took one more deep breath and leisurely walked forward. He held the glass a little tighter with each step in fear of letting it slip from his moist palm. Okay…just give her the drink and start a simple conversation…no biggie. He stopped a few steps behind the woman, but he was close enough to get a whiff of strawberries from her hair. He cleared his throat before he said, “Uh, excuse me.”
The woman flinched faintly and quickly turned around. “Yes?”
Landon’s sparkling blue eyes widen upon looking at her as his heart began to beat faster. “Oh, sorry if I scared you; I just saw you standing here and…” Landon stiffly extended his arm toward the woman’s face. In a pitch higher than his usual voice, Landon asked, “Would you like a drink?”
The woman puckered her lips as she turned her glance from Landon to the alcoholic beverage in front of her. He withdrew his arm once he noticed the slightly disgusted look on her tanned face. “No, thank you,” she finally answered. “I don’t drink.”
Way to go, Dumb-ass! He ran a jittery hand through his short, sandy-blonde locks. “Well, that’s fine. I’ll just set it down right here.” He walked up to the painting, squatted and placed the glass under the art frame onto the blue-and-black tiled floor. Landon stole a glance back at his group of friends. He noticed Doogat give him the thumbs up before he turned his interest back to the woman.
The woman’s attention was nowhere near Landon. She was already fixated on the painting in front of her.
She smells really good. Mmm…strawberries.
The woman’s attention remained on the artwork. Her gaze was immersed in the depth of the chocolate brown lines and warm reds and oranges. He was immersed in tracing the outline of her forehead, down to her pointed-nose, high cheekbones, and luscious plum lips. Damn, she’s beautiful…Nice lips…Ugh! I’m staring too much, Landon caught himself. He straightened his posture, which had become less erect as he stood there. Why is she so quiet? Ha, maybe she’s shy, how cute…Wait, why am I so quiet? What the Hell is wrong with me? Say something.
Once Landon became aware of his spell-bound gaze and the need to speak, the woman did so first, “I take it you’re in love with this piece as well?”
“Uh, yeah, nice work,” Landon responded with a nod. He gave a half smile as he shifted his weight to one foot and back again.
“I figured, you know, since you’re still standing here…,” she said while her dark, brown eyes scanned Landon up and down. “What do you like about it?”
“I enjoy her use of dark lines on the side here,” he pointed.
The woman puckered her lips again. “The artist is a man.”
Damn. “That’s what I meant, sorry.” The black slacks of Landon’s suit stuck to the skin of his perspiring thighs. He cleared his throat loudly as his fingers grazed the side of his leg in an effort to scratch an annoying itch. Why did he have to go and wear a black suit in this New York heat? No one cared if it was Armani, the woman certainly didn’t notice. Landon eyed her blank stare. Does she ever smile?
“So, is that all you like?” the woman asked, her mouth tight.
Landon furrowed his eyebrows in thought. He swallowed hard before he spoke, “No, um, I just like the painting in general, I guess.” He cleared his throat as he shifted his body weight from one leg to the other. The woman quickly looked away back at the canvas. After a slight pause that felt more like thirty minutes of silence, Landon asked in earnest, “What is so intriguing to you about this painting?”
The woman turned to face him as a slight smile slowly appeared. Their eyes met and Landon gave her a broader, reassuring grin. He caught a glimpse of shimmer in her brown irises before the bright specks receded into the darkness of her pupils. Her smile quickly faded and she glanced down at the floor then back to the painting after staring for a considerably long time at a woman helping an elderly man stand up from his chair. She let out a breath of frustration. “Why do you like this painting?” she demanded, ignoring his previous question.
What did he go and get himself into? Landon looked back at his group of friends. They were still talking where he left them. His eyes caught those of Doogat, who waved back. Landon gave a quick nod and smiled as he scanned the room on his way back to looking at the canvas. “Why do I like this painting?”
“Yes.”
Do I? His eyes roamed the thick, black lines that made up a surreal version of a street. The various sized circles of red, orange, and burgundy seemed out of place, but what really confused Landon was the bright light emitting from the end of the “road.” He lightly bit his bottom lip. Why do I like this painting…? He could feel his eyes glazing over. Hopefully, she couldn’t tell or didn’t care enough to notice. The woman loudly cleared her throat and this made Landon come out of his trance. He stared at her with widened eyes. She squinted at Landon with pursed lips.
“Are you okay?”
“Uh…yeah, sorry,” he answered in a low voice. Landon looked over at her normally now and exhaled slowly. Dammit, this isn’t working. Landon was contemplating telling her a joke, one of Doogat’s famous lines perhaps. Before proceeding he eyed her up and down. Nah, too cosmopolitan for that…she wants a cultured and serious man. Landon let out a slight chuckle.
“So, what do you think?” her tone a bit more forceful. Now her stiff lips and squinting eyes resembled irritation.
Wow, and here I thought she was timid. He cocked a half smile in amusement to his thought. The woman changed her expression to puzzlement as her mouth parted and eyebrows slightly raised. She took a step back. In a more docile manner she asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?” Landon caught himself.
“Oh, sorry!” He stood up straight, regaining his confident posture as his half smile returned. “It’s just that…well, you surprise me.” After making the comment, he wished he could take it back. They stared at each other in brief, awkward, silence. Landon cleared his throat as he walked up to the image and bent down to look closer at the tiny, white placard that detailed the artist’s name, Carlos Manzono, title of the painting, Misconceptions, and a short description of the medium used, oil on canvas.. “You know, I remember reading some facts about this artist—” Landon stood up and leaned casually against the wall on one side of the painting as he continued, “—Carlos Manzono. He painted this piece nearly on his death bed, well like three months before he died of lung cancer.” Landon’s smirk was visible. He was pleased with himself.
The woman glanced at him blankly, and then returned her concentration on the canvas. “I know.”
His smile faded. “Oh…okay…well, did you know—”
“I know!” she caught him off sharply.
Landon was a bit taken aback by the impulse. His eyes shifted to the floor.
The woman’s face eased in tension as she breathed out deeply. “Sorry,” she cried. She took a step toward Landon and looked up at him ruefully. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t need a bunch of facts.” She looked intently into Landon’s glinting, blue eyes while he stared back at her with a surprised look. “I know you don’t know me, so yes, this is extremely awkward, but it’s very important to me; I just need an answer.” She pointed at the artwork. “Seriously, what do you think of it? Why do you like it?”
Landon stopped leaning on the wall. He slowly stood in front of the painting again. He looked it up and down without a thought in his mind. His teeth clenched together as he slid his jaw back and forth. What’s wrong? Doogat would’ve had her on his arm by now…” In a monotone voice he finally answered, “I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean ‘why’?”
“Well, shouldn’t you know what you think of something?” They glare at each other for a moment neither person budging to look away.
“Of course you should!” he declared angrily. His surprisingly loud reaction made Landon scan the gallery to make sure they didn’t have an audience. Ugh, what is wrong with this lady, why does she care so much? “I just don’t get it,” he added in a whisper. The two stand in silence as the woman waits for Landon to carry on. Ah, screw it. He continued, using hand gestures liberally in emphasizing his point, “There are different sized circles in different colors everywhere with only two defined lines. I mean, seriously, what is that? The bright light on the dark background…why all the contrast? It seems to me the artist was just confused, had no idea what he wanted in this painting, so just jumbled it all together for people like you and me to rack our brains analyzing something that doesn’t exist.” Landon took a moment to catch his breath. He lightly bit his bottom lip wondering why he actually told her what he thought. He braced himself for the backlash.
The woman stared back with her head slightly tilted to one side. The glimmer of light that ebbed and flowed earlier as she stared at the painting was now directed at him. “Thank you for being honest. I needed to hear that.” Her face lightened with each word. She ended with a slight smile.
Oh my gosh honesty actually worked. Damn, women are confusing. “Um…yea, of course.” This moment of silence felt peaceful. “Can I ask you something?”
“Why not, I practically forced you.” she joked. They both gave a nervous chuckle.
“Why do you care so much, about this work of art?”
The woman’s light-hearted expression quickly changed back to dim as she shifted eye contact toward the image.
Landon looked on concerned. “Never mind, you don’t need to answer.”
“No, it’s fine, it’s just…”
Landon peered closer at the woman. Shit, is she crying?
She looked up at Landon with moisten irises as she continued, “He was my father. He was my father and I don’t know what it means.” A light stream of tears trickled down her rosy cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she frantically wiped her eyes as she looked the other way.
Wow. Landon opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. After a moment he asked, “Do you want a tissue or something? I–”
The woman shook her head, “No, no, I’m fine. Sorry about that. Ha, I just still get so emotional when I look at this thing.” She paused, looked back at the art, and with a large breath out continued, “It’s stupid. I’ve stared at this almost every day for two weeks now, and I can’t…I can’t…I just can’t understand what the hell it means. Before his death all his artwork spoke to me, because that’s how he expressed himself.” She vigorously wiped her eyes with the palm of her hands. “His art always spoke to me, it meant something, but now he’s gone and I can’t hear him. These are his last words and I don’t know what he’s saying!”
Wow, I’m officially the biggest jerk on the planet. With his face full of concern, Landon stepped closer. He hesitantly placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself; I’m sure no matter what it means he loved you.” Landon fished in his pocket and took out a crumpled napkin. “Here, it’s clean.”
“Thank you.” The woman took the white cloth to dab her cheeks and the corner of her eyes. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. This is so embarrassing,” she cried. “I promise this isn’t some sick ploy to get your attention,” she added playfully, a light smile crossing her face.
Landon’s eyes widened. He laughed nervously. “Oh no, I didn’t think that at all.” There was a slight pause. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind…”
“Haha, you’re cute.” The two couldn’t stop staring and smiling at each other. The woman extended a hand. “I’m Alma by the way.”
“I’m Landon, nice to meet you.”
