7 Chapter 6

Claire's P.O.V.

Alana entered my cabin after a few minutes of me getting into the office, having a brown file in her one hand and messaging on her mobile from her other hand. She had worn a black sweater top and a bright red sequin skirt with her hair lightly curled to one side.

"Good morning. Here are the designs you asked for. I have already called the head worker that we will visit there today or tomorrow so just tell me when to go." She said, briefly taking her eyes off of the mobile phone before going back to it.

"Okay..."

"Ok so listen --" she started suddenly, "Ryan Hernandez has reached already, making his way up and in the elevator right now." She said and fastly went out of my office.

I chuckled at her hastiness and followed her. We stood by the elevator and waited for it to open up. Ryan and Rowan came out of it, standing in front of us, Ryan looked at me from head to toe and breathed out. "Miss Anderson. Always a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure should be mine considering you have done a huge favor to us, -- shall we?"

"Please, lead the way, Ms. Anderson." He said.

I showed Ryan his office which was the same size as mine. A glass wall from ceiling to floor, overlooking the busy streets of New York. A table with a computer and some necessary things and on the other side there was a long table with 6 chairs for meetings and discussions.

After showing him the office and on the other floors, we came back and decided to go see our new hotel. Throughout the ride, he was busy on his mobile when I had half expected him to talk about last night but he didn't, which was a good thing but somewhere deep I wanted him to literally say just anything about it.

After reaching the hotel, we met the head of the workers there. He showed us around and explained how everything was going on. There was a lot of dust because of cutting wood, prints of different designs were scattered and then there was a lot of smell of paint, which I love the most. It sort of always relaxed me, made me feel wanted somewhere.

Then there were painters and sketchers doing their work on the walls, and lastly, there was my wall, with my sketching. It was right in front of the entrance of the hotel, just beside the reception. It was almost complete so I took off my jacket and put on a white robe, determined to finish this today.

I always designed things, made sketches, told everyone what color to add and which order to follow but never really got the chance to paint anything myself. But this building was really close to me because this was the biggest project I had ever started.

I added a few drops of white and red color into the black so I could give the left upper corner of the painting, a little lighter yet bright color than the rest. "You finish this up, I am gonna get coffee for myself from down the street." Alana said slipping into her coat and I nodded, "Okay."

"...and I am sure you wouldn't mind me accompanying you," Rowan said already going after her. I stared at their backs puzzled thinking what was going on between the two of them as I turned back and stretched out a big line, and started spreading it around to make the colors look balanced.

"I didn't know you could paint." Ryan chimed in after few moments.

"Well, I am not an interior designer just for the name, --of course, I can paint," I replied. "Point taken along with sarcasm."

I chuckled; "It was a fact but if you think it in a sarcasm way then suit yourself."

"Huh. You are really fierce... and straightforward." Ryan commented with somehow expressions of amazement. A smile broke out on my face hearing his words, that was the first time someone had said anything like this to me but I made sure he couldn't see it because I didn't want him to know that his words had an effect on me, as small as making me smile.

I took another brush, a big one this time, and dipped it into the paint to paint the two fairies with white-silvery color. The whole time I was painting those fairies, I could feel Ryan's stare boring holes in the back of my neck but he kept quiet. So I decided to speak in an attempt to start a conversation and remove the silence that was threatening to thicken around us.

"Rowan is not back yet. You would have plenty of work to do." I turned back slightly to look at him. He smiled lightly as he exhaled slowly and pulled a chair from the side and sat on it.

"Or I could just stay here and enjoy the beauty. My work is the same as usual so it's easy for me to get it done as I am used to it."

"You don't have to stay here. I am sure you would rather be somewhere interesting than being here looking at the painting with bored expressions, trying to enjoy it."

"Then you can explain it to me and who said anything about bored expressions and trying, --and about painting?" He asked. His eyebrows knitted together in dare.

"I enjoy you," He started and those simple three words made me feel like this was something I had been yearning to hear my whole life. I felt like I had achieved something, those simple three words made my heart, for the first time in my life, went skyrocketing. It was threatening to jump out of my body, trying to make my senses go numb and it made me thinking, in what world can just three words make someone feel all these emotions at once.

"--without even trying, because you are interesting and I have decided to not deny myself the perk of looking at interesting people, and especially the ones whose masterpieces are just as interesting as their personalities, --and you doing the painting is quite the view. I hope the picture-taking offer is still up for me." He said looking intently at me. There was something strange in his eyes, which seemed to be pulling everything in them, something sparkly, --lively. Like there was a whole world inside of them, an adventurous world, with no fear but the thrilling risk, the one which could make you feel suffocated with happiness. I exhaled slowly.

"You are unbelievable," I said with a shake of my head as I turned around hurriedly, dipped my brush in white paint, ready to give life to the words written on the wall. It took me nearly twenty minutes to finish the writing, to finally finish the whole wall and I was thankful that Ryan didn't say anything after that but I could feel his gaze getting intense on the back of my head, with each painted-lively word.

In love comes happiness,

But not without the cost of pain.

Giving affliction to the living,

As forcing them to move on.

But as wounded souls meet each other,

Whether dead or alive,

Attracted by the love and memories,

To know the liveliness,

We find peace.

Because it exists,

-in everything we hold dear.

"It's beautiful, and from what I can understand, it's --so real and true. Did you write this poem yourself?" He whispered. I stared at those words, reading them again and again, even though they were already imprinted on my mind and I knew them by heart.

"No, I didn't, --someone really close to me that I love, used to say this to me, --and it's not a poem, they are dialogues but they were said that way," I paused; "I never really understood the meaning behind it as I try to avoid thinking about it... because memories always hurt."

"But they also become home as time passes by, --a cozy and warm feeling that you at least had time to make them, and according to me, from what you have written there, memories bring peace," said Ryan. He slowly walked up to the wall, staring at each word like learning them, --getting them deeply.

"Memories are made to cherish and bring happiness when we feel down then how can they possibly hurt us,"

"Memories are not always good and happy Hernandez," I said.

"But they make you strong... and brave and more confident, the reminder to tell you that you got through everything and now are better than before." He spoke.

I stared at him, loss at words. I never really thought it that way. Instead of finding comfort in memories, I always found more reasons to kill Markus but now with his words I felt like I have really found the meaning behind the peace Scarlett told me about. His words gave me a new meaning and with my case, I somehow finally realized that even with heartbreak, there was peace at all but only if I remember past that horrible night.

Ryan was now gazing rather curiously and adoringly at the painting of two fairies. There was a strange smile on his face, A rather triumph smile. "Your painting is the metaphor of your thoughts, isn't it?" He stated confidently.

"How can you be so sure?"

"You said yourself that someone told you these dialogues, someone, you love, so one angel is that person and the other is --you, right?" He replied.

I sighed with finally a large smile on my face because for the first time someone has finally realized the meaning, hidden in that painting, someone has finally looked past the picture of those fairies, which for everyone was just a decoration in accordance to peace. Even Dad couldn't say that when he came to see the sketching. "The little one is me."

I was eight when she first told me this, she said that it doesn't matter if I didn't know mom because she was there to tell me everything about her along with dad, letting me know what an amazing woman she was and with her telling me everything, I always felt that mom was really the part of my life.

Ryan was about to ask something but Rowan and Alana came back bickering over something.

"Are you done yet? Can we go?" She asked as soon she approached me, rather desperately and too angry to even look at the painting but I knew she would fuss over not seeing it done later.

"Of course," I took off my apron and went to wash my hands. Upon returning, I grabbed my jacket and we started walking outside to the car.

We came back to the office in silence. No one talked about anything but the silence was not the awkward one. It was the one where you're minding your own business or enjoying the view of the tall buildings outside the window or breathing into the fresh air but I was doing neither of that. I was just living in the conversation Ryan and I had, over and over again.

The rest of the day went smoothly and I came back home on my time. I was making pasta when the soft tune of the piano being played started coming from down the hall. I smiled and continued making my pasta. After making it and setting it on the table, I went to call dad for dinner. He was still on the piano. He didn't see me but I could see from his smile, that broke out when I entered, that he knew I was there.

I leaned on the wall looking at him, focusing on his fingers, seeing how delicately he pressed onto the keys. It was his favorite tune, --everything. It was the most beautiful yet saddest song that I have ever heard. It could literally make you cry or make you go back in the memories... and of course, it was true, where there is beauty or happiness, there is sadness as well but after some time, you just learn to balance them both.

Dad finished his song just as delicately as he was playing. On last notes, his fingers hit differently... like he was opening a Christmas gift, or holding a baby's hand who was taking his first step. After finishing he opened his eyes slowly and turned to look at me with a smile still present on his face.

"It was a long break... but you still play exquisitely. I can never play like you." I said, admiringly. He smiled. "You are not bad yourself. After all, you're learning from the best." He said pointing to himself. I laughed and sat down beside him. I played with the keys, pressing onto the different ones as they made loud, weird, and different kinds of rhythm.

"Hey, don't do this. You're ruining the aftereffect of the masterpiece." Dad said, shooing my hand away teasingly. "Why not? It's amazing." I laughed and continued pressing different keys while he kept shooing me away. we goofed around for quite some time, playing different kinds of tunes, dad criticizing my piano skills, and him singing horribly while I played random tunes, and then me complaining of his voice and even taking goofy pictures until we both felt extremely hungry and came to eat where we had to re-heat the pasta to eat.

That night was refreshing. I hadn't spent that kind of time with Dad in a long while, so it felt good. I enjoyed every moment of it and this night had left a happy memory on the wall of my heart like some other rare memories and just like Ryan had said, memories are something that stays in our heart forever, making us smile when we remember them and encouraging us in bad days, reminding us we had spent all kind of times and we got through each of them. Memories, that have life in themselves. I just wished that I could spend more time like that with Dad.