“Yeah.” Marc nodded, admiring the different pieces of artwork as they walked by. “My family is doing good, too; has grown a lot these past few years. I’m now an uncle of eleven kids.”
“There were seven the last time we spoke.” Viktor laughed. “Your mom’s house must be loud when you all get together.”
“Yeah. The Zimmers’ headquarters is a clusterfuck when we’re all there.” Marc couldn’t hold the grin back. He adored his family.
“How’s your mom, by the way?”
“Good. Like always.”
Viktor sighed. “I miss that woman.”
“Yeah. She’s one of a kind… How’s everyone doing on your side?”
“They’re good. We can’t really complain. It was rough for a while after my mom passed away, but we’re all back on our feet again. My dad hasn’t said, but I think he met someone in the retirement home he’s living in now.”
“I thought he was adamant about not leaving his house.”
“He was. But one day he realized he couldn’t do a lot of things by himself. That my siblings and I also have lives, family, jobs… We can’t be looking after him twenty-four-seven.”
“That’s so good to hear.” That man was probably the most stubborn human alive. “You can still visit him whenever, but at least you know he’s being taken care of when none of you can be there.”
“Exactly.” Viktor nodded.
Feeling more at ease surrounded by the guests wandering around the hall, chatting as they moved from one artwork to the next, Marc relaxed, and they fell into a comfortable conversation. They talked about music, about the trips they’d been on, the interesting people they had met, Viktor’s process when he started creating again... They also stopped in front of the sculptures as he explained the thought behind them. It was great seeing him in his element after so long; excited, truly smiling, and looking forward to the future.
And suddenly, as hard as their breakup and the last year of their relationship had been, nothing mattered anymore. Having the chance to talk to Viktor, to see how both of them had thrived in the paths they’d chosen for themselves, gave him a new perspective.
Seems like Chris had been right all along, because closing this door felt better than Marc had ever imagined.
“This is awesome,” he said. “I’m really happy you made it this far.”
“I couldn’t believe it when Heidi”—he gestured towards a woman who was talking with two men a few meters away from them—“contacted me. Still can’t. But she said she had been following my work for a while and that these pieces stole her heart and she wanted them.”
“But you mentioned it’s only going to be here until the end of the year?” Marc was confused.
“Oh! Most of these are staying here as part of the permanent exhibition, except the pieces that will go in a silent auction.” Viktor took a sip of his champagne. “But I’m gonna be traveling to Helsinki in January with another lot of sculptures. Seems like I only needed one person to claim my work for other art dealers to want me, too.”
“It was about time.” Marc offered an honest smile. “They’re all stunning. Though my favorite is probably that one.” He pointed across the room.
“Ah.” Viktor grinned, nostalgia glowing in his eyes. “I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’m not.”
“How come?”
“You’re a smart man, Marc. You tell me,” he said, his gaze boring into the bassist’s. “It’s calledHistory.”
Before he could answer, Heidi whisked Viktor away to meet some interested clients, which Marc was thankful for. The intensity he had been staring at him with just now was disturbing. But he was curious about what he meant.
Slowly walking towards the piece of art they were talking about, Marc felt out of place. For a long time in the past, he had mentally prepared for these types of events. He’d always been sure Viktor would make it to the top. Art was a tough career, but there was no way his talent and perseverance wouldn’t get noticed at some point. He was outstanding at what he did.
However, being here now, in this hall with high ceilings and dark flooring, made him realize how different their worlds had become. Maybe it was the strangers admiring the artwork of a man he used to know, or that even the cocktail station in the corner was sophisticated, but they didn’t belong in the same space anymore.
As he stopped in front of the sculpture calledHistory, Marc folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head. Viktor’s creations were like looking at the black pictures of the Rorschach test. Although he had shaped them with a purpose and a specific emotion in mind, their interpretation was up to the eye of whoever was looking at them.
This one in particular, reminded Marc of a forest and its reflection in the water. It was composed of dozens of small blades overlapped and crossed in a way that, when you took a couple of steps back, made them look like a silhouette of pine trees. It was beautiful, and at least to him, it called for peace of mind. Though maybe it was the noise music softly playing in the background.
While he had never stopped to pay attention to this type of sound, he had to admit that the convergence between harmony and what he deciphered as metal objects rubbing against each other had something special. It added an extra dimension to the room, making the pieces of art come to life. He could be crazy, yet if he closed his eyes, the bassist could almost hear cicadas buzzing under the moonlight.
But other than that, he couldn’t see anything else. What did Viktor mean by that“you tell me”?
