Repercussions

Liam...

The moment Elijah came out of the gallery with that woman, I knew something had happened. It was like I was again standing in front of the guy, I pulled out of a chasm of loneliness and hopelessness, a few months back. I tried to ask him about this sudden change in the mood but he waved me off saying that it was nothing. I thought of letting go for the moment but the curiousity got the best of me and I talked the assisstant into giving me the interview notes made by her boss. And God forbid was I right. There was no information about 'The Girl in the Blue Dress'. The questions asked were precise and the answers given were even more precise. What the hell happened during that interview?

I waited for the cab to be out of our sight to strike the conversation with for the second time ina span of fifteen minutes.

"I told you. Nothing happened." he exclaims, already on the edge. So I push him over.

"Stop sprouting nonsense to me. What the hell happened during the interview? Was it something the lady said?" I ask. And it does the trick.

He literally screams in my face.

"Alright! You wanna know? She told me the truth. We were fooling ourselves, thinking that I could pursue painting as something more than just a hobby. I mean I am no expert. I don't know a shit about it's techniques, the color schemes or anything for that matter. I might have some ideas now, but who's to say that it's not just some beginners luck. It's like I am suddenly standing in the middle of this Labyrinth again, with all my options exhausted." He says in high pitch, waving his hands around and ends with a sigh. He has given up. Damn it. I think I have a hunch about what she must have said to him.

"And you are going to give up just because some girl said something to you? All this hard work and everything? When will you understand that it is not some hobby for you but your passion? It was not some beginner's luck. You have the ideas and amazing ones at that." I say to him in the same pitch.

He sighs again and rolls his eyes. "I really wish you see it in time Liam and save yourself the trouble. I got nothing. I am nothing" He says and proceeds towards his car.

Damn it!!

Penelope...



I am in the middle of writing my interview, when I hear Amy's voice. Before I can contemplate what is happening, the man I met at the gallery comes storming into my room, sits on the chair in front of me and stares.

What the hell!???

"Excuse me? Get out of my office, right this instant or I am calling security." I say picking up the intercom. This man looks dangerous.

"Listen Miss Penelope and listen carefully. I am here to talk about a very serious matter and I am not going anywhere before you listen to me. Am I understood?" He is too calm for someone who was just threatened with a call to security.

"What?.." Before I can ask him anything further, Amy enters my office with Mr. Davies besides her. "What is going on Penelope?" he asks confused. But when the man on the chair stands up to greet, my boss's expression changes from confussion to surprise.

"Mr. Collins? Is something the matter? What are you doing here?" He says while shaking the man's hand and he looks at me with an expression asking me if I was okay. I nod and he turns his attention to Liam as he speaks.

"You see, Mr. Davies. Your briliant editor here talked to Elijah about some technicalities of his work. Elijah was busy with something so I had to come and understand, so we can use her wisdom to the fullest for our next exhibition. After all, I am managing all this stuff for Elijah, you know." I shoot glares at his back, when I realise that I do know what he is talking about.

"Oh I see. Of course, I will let you guys get on with it then. Will you be fine Penelope?" He asks with his brows raised.

"Yes! Mr. Davies. Thank You!." With that I motion for Liam to take a seat.

He didn't wait another second and took a seat.

"So, what kind of technicalities you want to talk about?" I ask with a smirk this time. If this guy thought that he could overpower me and insult my knowledge then he has something coming.

"Yes please. Let's talk about the fact that you think Elijah's work is nonsense and he doesn't know a thing about painting. Or about the fact that you even passed on your wise thoughts to Elijah." slowly he stands up from his chair, howering over my table and says with gritted teeth.

"Do you have any idea what you have done?"

"First of all I never said that his work was nonsense. Second, what is the point of showing me his work if I can't even tell the artist about his mistakes so he can improve them for the future?" I say folding my arms in front of me.

"Tell me Miss Penelope. Do you think you are the only critique that we showed his work to? Are you the only person whose 'honest opinion' I had asked about for Elijah's work? No Miss Penelope, not at all." he sits on the chair again and looks at me. "You see Miss Penelope, Elijah and I might be amateurs in this field. Our friends are not. I did my research well. Hence I know that he might not be Picasso, but he has got something. Something pure and beautiful, that he pours into his work. And it isn't just my opinion either, Miss Penelope. There are people talking. No, there are critiques talking." By this time he is leaning on his chair. His right hand under his chin and his gaze scrutinizing me.

"Hnmm. I see. But there is this slight trouble, Mr. Collins. You see, I really don't care what other people think. I make my opinions on what I observe. That's exactly what I did in Mr. Ross's case as well. And for that, I don't think I am obliged to give you any sort of explanation." I reply to him in his tone and start going through some papers, when I hear a snort from his direction.

"Please do enlighten me with your observations Miss. I am literally sitting on the edge waiting. And especially about 'The Girl in the Blue Dress'." He demands with a fake curiousity.

I am done with this coversation. But maintaining my calm in this situation is still the best option.

"Mr. Collins, I understand you feel bad for your friend. And yes, that one painting was beautiful. I have to admit even I was mesmerised by it. But that does not rectify the fact that again, Central Park was too common of a place to draw about New York. Moreover, I cannot make my judgement on the basis of only one painting. And his technique was rather ordinary or should I say not upto the mark in his other works. I have to take in consideration that too. So, I think it will be better if you don't try to teach me my work. I think I know better about it." I finish with an edge in my tone.

My surprise reaches it's peak when he again snorts and says,

"This is exactly what I am talking about Miss Penelope. You never went beyond your paints and brushes and techniques, while forming your opinion. Did it ever occcur to you that his collection is called 'New York from a commoner's eye' because it was about all the common places in New York. Or according to you too common of a place in New York. I bet you never even asked who the girl was in the painting or what was the story behind her being Elijah's inspiration to draw or why he refuses to sell it or about the visions and emotions that one painting hold. You never bothered to ask because for once you are right. You don't care. These paintings were his lifesaver. They gave hope to a man who thought his life was over after his wife. I had to lie to my best friend, for him to realise what his passion was. I have spent several nights awake beside him, because he couldn't close his eyes. Because he felt alone. Because he was blaming himself for everything wrong in the world. And when I was finally able bring him out of all that chaos, you came and held whatever it was that you had against him and uncrossed his fingers, bringing him back to where I had pulled him from. Dissapointment and Devastation. I came here today immediately, because I hoped that you will understand. I was clearly wrong. Thank You so much for your time, Miss Penelope. It was an utmost displeasure meeting you." with that he stands and buttons up his jacket. Giving me one last cold look, he walks out of my office.

While I sit there, wondering,

"What the hell have I done?"