Petals

He walks her along the gallery, and they move arm in arm. Past painting after painting. She finds herself enchanted by this image and that, until he stops her in front of a large canvas. The brass plaque underneath reads  “The courtship of Antheia”. 

Looking up at it Ann finds an image of three graceful women set upon clouds, and betwixt flowers. Light surrounds them and holds them. They are lovingly rendered in gentle brush strokes and soft tones on the right hand side of the scene. One of them stands apart. As if having just left her sister's warm embrace. 

She recognizes in the woman her own form, standing apart from the other two. She could swear she knows them too. Knows them as well as she knows her own heart. “How is this possible?” she breaths. Confused, she furrows her brow and steadies herself on his strong arm. Her form in the painting is reaching out too. 

Her painted self is reaching out her arms, towards the strong arms of a man. The man is painted with bolder strokes and earthy tones on the left side of the canvas. More darkness and fire, then light. The gruff, bearded face of the figure reaching out to the woman on the canvas is familiar as well. Holding out his arms to her there, is the same man that is standing at her side now, looking intently and expectantly down at her. 

The same strong arms and rough hands reach out to turn her towards him, away from the painting. As he gently takes Ann’s face in his hands, he smiles sadly. “People no longer care, my love, it is time and past that we leave this place. I have lingered here for you. Now that you remember, will you give me your hand, that we may depart?” She nods, knowing what comes next.

Years later an irate curator at the National Gallery changes an incorrect listing for the painting catalogued as “The courtship of Antheia”. Altering it’s description of the scene, to fit the scene actually displayed within the painting. Where Antheia is not reaching for, as it is listed in the old catalog,  but has in fact just put her small hands in those of Hephaestus.

               The End