Coret-coret

I have chosen the paintings to be exhibited. Adam gave me the idea for the theme of the display and I chose based on it.

“What about now,” he said. I thought it was a question.

“What about now what?” I asked back.

“No, I mean, I think we should set a theme for this exhibition. And I think “What About Now” is rather related to you. Don’t you think so?”

I think it was perfect. I gathered 50 of my paintings and have them shipped earlier for the arrangement of the display. I told them to put the only portrait at the very last of the display. I told them it was the best I’ve made so far. It was the face of the lady in my dream.

*

The day the exhibition had arrived. I was nervous and quite excited as well. I was not sure how the things will turn out to be. Of course there will be reviews from the visitors, and from what I heard from Adam, the local newspaper has already advertised about the exhibition and he expected a lot of people to come.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes, let’s go.”

We lived in a hotel closest to the gallery. I insist on walking since the gallery is just about 15 minutes walking distance. I don’t want to rush.

“Nervous?”

“What do you think then?”

“Well, we might as well got good review from the people and then we might be booked by other gallery seeing our success and you might as well rise in the platform of stardom on your own and then got names like the second Picasso, or the modern Van Gogh. Something like that, you know,” said Adam. I laughed to his words. He had more vision than I did. I was never thinking of going that far. Not that I don’t want to. But I just want to live in the present. Just the way it is. The future is like my past, something I won’t try to think, or to remember. I just want to live just the way it is. Unplanned. I will keep painting because I like it, it suits me. It chose me.

“You went too far,” I replied. Then he said something about being a visionary and some other stuff that seems to fill him in. I keep on smiling, not saying a word about how I really felt.

It was two days after I got out from the hospital. Adam and I barely talked; I believed he blamed himself for what had happened. But I just stay shut about it, I rather not say a word, just in case I was wrong.

We went out for dinner. None of us know how to cook. Once I tried to cook and the next thing I knew I had black, burnt dishes in front of me.

“Have you considered?” Adam asked while waiting for food to be served.

“Consider what?” I asked back. He laid back a little, and breathed deeply. “I have a friend, he owns a gallery but it’s quite far away from here.” I didn’t say anything, but I was eager to know more about what he said. Adam recognized the sign and continued, “I told him about your art. Shown some pictures of them, and he’d be pleased to display your artworks in his gallery.”

If I hadn’t seen his lips moved, I would not believe what I heard. We quarreled about this, and I was so sure he would not change his mind about what he said before.

“Are you sure? Did I hear right?”

“Yes. And I’m sorry for the things I said the other day, I know it’s rude, and I think you’re ready to meet people outside there,” he continued. I smiled. He’s right. Whenever he supported me, I’m ready. After all, he has always been there for me through everything since I lost my memories.

“I’m sorry too. I know you’re one damn great brother,” I said and patted his shoulder. We talked through the dinner, he said he saw potential in my paintings and he would not be surprised if after the exhibition a lot of my paintings will be sold. I told him about the my new painting, a portrait of a lady, which I think is an exhibit A, of all my paintings.

“Surprise me,” he said. But it never occurred to me that the portrait will forever change my life.

“You’re awake!” said Adam, relieved. I looked around the white, pale room with green curtain covering the windows. I tried to raised my body a bit into sitting position. Adam helped me.

“What happened?” I asked. I had a very faint memory of what made me being rested in the hospital.

“The doctor said it’s the effect of the accident, but don’t worry, it’s rare. It happened this only one time after the accident,” he said. Indeed. After the accident, I didn’t felt any pain like that in two years. “He said maybe something triggered that.”

“What’s something?” I asked. Is it the smell of the chemicals in my paintings?

“Might be about something you tried to think,” he answered slowly.

“But you know I have no interest to search my past!” I said, starting to yell. Adam calmed me. “I know, I know. I told him that, and he said you might knock your head or something before that, but I said know, you were alright and all of a sudden you fell, cried in pain and pass out.”

I remembered. I remembered I was trying to block my mind from thinking of what happened in the past. I was not trying to remember them. “When can I get out from here?”

“I don’t know, but I think it won’t take long, maybe tomorrow, depends greatly on how you behave of course,” he said and started laughing.

“What do you mean how I behave, idiot. Wait, mom and dad didn’t come?”

“I told them, and they were very worried but I told them you’ll be fine. They won’t come though,” he said. In two years, I only saw them once, that was when I recovered from the accident and moved in my house now. Since then we talked through phone. I couldn’t have barely recalled their faces if not for their photos at home.

“You screamed,” Adam pointed out.

“I screamed?What did I scream about?” clearly I don’t need to ask him that. I know exactly what happened while I was unconscious. But I wanted to know which part did he heard.

“It was a bit unclear, but you did scream, ‘get away from me’,” he said, and from what I understood, he tried to mimic my acts too. But I was not in mood to laugh anymore. I was scared. I was scared of what happened in my head. Don’t block it, just ignored it. “Are you okay? You looked terrible. I should call the doctor.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m fine.”

I was in a park. I don’t remember being there, but somehow it felt so, so familiar. So comforting. The air was so fresh and clean like the morning but yet it was afternoon. The sun was up high already. But I can feel the tickling coldness, like I was in the middle of the mist. Refreshing. Then I heard a voice. Voice I could have remembered but I didn’t. Again, I felt so familiar.

“Adrin”, said the voice. I followed the voice. Walking through the field, searching for the unknown, familiar sound of a lady.

“Adrin,”she called again. I missed that voice. That’s how I felt. Really missed the voice although I hardly knew whose or why. But the lady was nowhere to be found. i searched the whole park. The voice echoed but not a single person was in there. Not even the birds, or butterflies. It was only me, and the trees, and flowers. It’s empty. Abandoned. Just about that the whole park turns gray, the flowers died, the trees let the leaves fall, and all of a sudden everything fall apart. The sound, went unheard. Dark. Just dark. I ran away, but as far as I went, darkness covered all.

“Adrin,” suddenly the voice rang. But instead of the sweet sound I heard before, it was sharp, and eerie. I felt like hunted by a witch. The voice rang and rang that I had to closed my ears with my hands. But even with that, I can still hear her voice. Full of anger. I ran even faster. I tried to look back then I stumbled upon a tree root and fell. I was too afraid at that time. Why? Why is that voice changing? What have I done wrong? I knew nobody. At least not now.

There she was. Standing in front of me. The most beautiful face I’ve ever seen of a woman. The kind face, so pure. I was stunned. The place, turns all white like in a bright, white room but despite of that, she shone like nothing else, even the moon or the stars. She reached for me. I held on to her. She didn’t speak anything but her smile, her smile was so beautiful. Angel.

“Are you, an Angel?” I asked. I couldn’t looked away from her face. She smiled and then sat next to me. I felt that before. I certainly did. That moment I realized I remembered some of my past. I pulled my hand, and stood up, trying to get away from her. She was shocked, and then looked sad. I didn’t mean to hurt her. But I don’t want to risk remembering my past because of her. I have to get away. I had to get away.

“Gallery? You want to put your paintings in the gallery?” said Adam. He looked quite bewildered I must say. I nodded. A lot of times. But he seemed rather reluctant with my idea. Maybe he was so shocked by my sudden moved. I can only guessed.

“You told me to share my paintings, and I don’t want to sell it, so I thought displaying it will be good enough,” I told him of my bright thinking. My artworks! In the gallery, wherever the gallery is. “This can’t be good.” I heard Adam whispered. I turned to him. “What did you just say?” I asked. My tone sounded like he had said something really terrible.

“Nothing, nothing to your concern, really,” he defended. I sighed. I swore I heard him saying ‘this can’t be good’ just now. Or perhaps I was too sensitive. But still, I heard right.

“Well, what do you think?”

“Well, I think you’re moving too fast, and I think you weren’t ready for the this gallery thing. Done,” he answered, simply like that. I don’t understand this guy! He told me to share my paintings! I wanted to, well, at least now I wanted to.

“What kind of answer is that? I want to do things you wanted me to do,” I questioned him. “Not to show off your paintings!” he said, his voice raised a little. “I just want you to sell them.”

“I don’t know who wanted to buy my paintings unless I started by showing them to people. Don’t you think it’s relevant enough?” I stressed. “I know a lot of people,” he said. Of course you do. “I can show them your paintings. If they loved it, they’ll take it. Easy, what you have to do is just paint,” he said. His voice started to soften again, almost into whisper.

I thought deeply of what he said. He’s right on one bit. I’m not ready yet. Then it came to me. What if before I was a painter? Maybe I was no good before. Maybe people hated my paintings. Maybe I shouldn’t be painting. I felt a searing pain on my head that I fell down from my armchair.

“Are you alright?” I can hear Adam talked to me. But the pain was too hard to resist. Then all turned blank.

I was told, I had a very tragic accident, and I lost my memories because of that. I lived up with that. My past, nothing to concern me with. I don’t care about what had happened. What is it to be like me before. I refused to let my all memories haunt me because I know it hurts trying to recall back what I have lost. It is better for me to start fresh. Start from zero. Two years had passed since the accident, I start new, I lived with my—who was told to be—my brother, Adam.

What I do is I paint. I painted a lot. Just after I recovered from the injuries from the accident,  I stayed alone doing nothing at home. Then Adam came home with a book or arts. I love seeing them. I intended to ask him what I worked as before but I’m afraid the pass will haunt me so I shut it, but instead I tried painting. I felt good. As good as everything else didn’t matter. Because my life is now, here, in the paintings.

“Sell them,” said Adam as he approached me from behind, with him two cups of coffee, as usual.”Make profits out of it,” he continued. This may have been a thousand times he told me to sell the paintings but I always refused. I love all my paintings, I did it with all my heart. Why should I sell them to just any people?

“How many times do I have to tell you..,” I said but he completed it for me, “these paintings is my life? Adrin, you told me these a lot of times before, I lost count if it. But the point is, share it with people. Sell them. And besides, our hose is too cramp already to put one more of your piece of art!” he said and laugh at the end of his words. I joined in.

“I just cannot yet. Believe me maybe one day I’ll sell them,” I said. “When? In another hundred years?” he joked and we both fell into long laughter again. Adam then went out for a while, and just before I started a stroke of colour on the canvas, It all came back to me. Share it with people. Adam did said that. It doesn’t mean that I have to sell them.