“I know.” I smirk cockily once she lets go. She just rolls her eyes and before I know it, she’s pulling my hand and dragging me to every art piece.
“This is beautiful,” she says in fascination, her eyes firmly planted on a piece of artwork. It’s titled; Jael and Sisera. It shows a woman driving a tent peg into a man’s skull. I didn’t realize how horrific art could actually be. I like it.
“Yeah, it is,” I echo her sentiments, my eyes firmly planted on her.
“The man being attacked is Sisera. He was a warlord to the Jabin—the king who had been oppressing.” She stops her rambling abruptly, looking back at me. “Sorry, am I boring you?”
“Of course not,” I say instantly. “Keep going, I like hearing you talk like this.”
She blushes and continues. She fills me in on every piece of history behind this painting and I listen intently as she makes snide remarks about the characters in the pictures and I love that her cruel nature isn’t only reserved for real life people, but fictional too.
We even argue about the impact of art on modern society and I soon find out that I don’t have a clue about art, but Juliette does—an alarming amount.
“I haven’t been to an art museum in a long time,” she admits, her hand tightly clasped in mine as we walk around the paintings.
“Any particular reason?”
“Once I realized I wasn’t going to become an artist, I sort of just stopped going,” she shrugs sadly, “because every time I saw a gallery or a museum, I couldn’t help but fantasize about how I wanted to be like that too.”
“So why can’t you?” I furrow my eyebrows.
“My mum would kill me.”
I shrug. “It’s your life.”
“You wouldn’t get it.” She shakes her head, her tone more factual than annoyed.
“Because I don’t have parents?”
Suddenly her face is red. She squeezes my hands tighter. “I didn’t mean it like that—”
“I know, I’m not offended.” I shake my head, alleviating her tensions. “I get it. I’ve never had to worry about disappointing someone.”
Pity washes in her eyes, but I think it’s unwarranted. I’ve lived for me; I’ve chosen what I want to do because I’ve never had to live up to other people’s standards.
“I’m just scared,” she admits in a heavy breath.
I rub my thumb on her hand. “Things that scare you are usually the most important things to see through.”
She scares me, all the time, every single day.
“You’re really insightful sometimes you know that?”
“I know.” I tiptoe and plant a quick kiss on her forehead.
We keep walking around the paintings and we reach the purchasable section of the exhibition. She goes absolutely crazy, anything she can get her hands on she tries to buy. It’s like I have to physically restrain her from buying every piece of artwork in this section. I don’t though, because it’s her money. The only time I try and stop her is when she tries to buy me the painting titled; Susanna and the elders, just because I said the painting was beautiful.
“I said it’s pretty, Juliette, not that I want you to buy it for me!” I chastise her.
“It sounds like the same thing to me.” She shrugs with a cocky look on her face.
“It’s four grand!!”
“Okay, so it’s a cheap gift? So what?”
“Are you being purposely obtuse?” I shoot at her.
“Are you being purposely difficult?” she retorts, her hands on her hips.
