"The exhibition did really well, Evander," informed Amanda Sturgess, the gallery curator, as she walked towards me with a glass of champagne. I accepted the glass and downed the liquid. It had been a rather slow and arid day meeting with interested buyers and people who were just simply interested in my work followed by a string of questions. "No surprise there though." I looked at her. She flashed me what I assumed to be a flirtatious smile as her eyes also sparkled with something I knew very well. I turned away and gazed out to the busy New York scene playing before uninterested in her apparent advances.
"It's been a busy day," I commented to one in particular as I turned around and headed to a seating area where I set my flute on a glass coffee table and checked my phone to see any new messages. My agent, Harold Murphy, texted that he found a new model for me, but other than that nothing new. I sighed and slipped the smartphone back into my pocket."
"So...Evander," Amanda began as she walked over to me and put a soft hand on my arm. "I'm curious," she whispered into my ear tickling it with her breath. I cleared my throat quite unthrilled with her behavior. She must have noticed my discomfort because I heard her break into a smile and let out a chuckle. Amanda was still an attractive woman in her late 30s, but she wasn't my type and there was already someone else in my heart.
"What are you curious about?" I asked taking a step away picking up my shoulder bag from the floor and setting it on the couch trying to avoid her as much as possible.
"Why don't you ever want to sell your Ariel collection?" she inquired as she leaned against one of the white plush chairs.
"Because it means a lot to me," I said my voice dripping with irritation. I never liked to talk about it, but Amanda was one of those people that had to know every detail about every little thing. So, she dug some more.
"Why?"
"I prefer to keep that collection, because I'm just not willing to part with it," I said annoyed hoping she would get the hint and drop the subject.
"It's such a waste though." She chuckled and took a sip of her drink.
Snapping in her direction, I frowned. "Why?" I demanded.
"Because, their are so many that want to buy it. I mean, let's face it, your Ariel works is probably one of your best works, even your latest," she said. "It could bring you a lot of dough."
"I don't want it to bring me a lot of dough," I snapped darkly. Just the thought of giving away the work I treasured the most than anything else was as if it was a whore, and I couldn't stand the thought of Amanda tainting it with such an idea! "I'd rather let the viewers experience and appreciate the nature of the beauty of the work. Not sell it to some nut head so he could use it to satisfy some weird fetish that plagues him." Amanda huffed a sarcastic laugh and then raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.
"There is no guarantee that anyone who sees it will acknowledge that not only the work is lovely but also the subject, Evander. I'm curious though," she began.
"You're curious about many things." I chuckled darkly.
"Yes." She smirked. "But I want to know who the subject is. Or, more importantly, who was the subject to you?"
At this, I became completely still. Who was Ariel to me? Memories of so many years ago came rushing into my mind breaking the dam I had so carefully and delicately built for so long due to self-preservation. A lovely image of a young Ariel gracefully entered the recesses of my lonely mind. At this, I let out a slight, soft choke. I quickly willed them away. "N-no one," I replied not even looking at Amanda. I shifted through my bag pretending to search for something that wasn't there.
