The Alchemist's Pride

Chapter 3. Emotions can be artwork too

Leyla wakes up the next morning to Bobby, her neighbor’s gray cat, curled up beside her pillow, purring and gently pawing at her cheek with his cold, damp paw. He must have sneaked in early in the morning through the open window of the balcony.

Leyla lies there, peeking at him with slitted eyes as he purrs with eyes half-closed, looking utterly content. This cat decided from day one that this was his second home after she moved in.

John has often come looking for the cat in the evenings, because Bobby is usually in her apartment when he’s not with John. Leyla is also Bobby’s official guardian when John goes on vacation to visit his parents in London.

After making herself a cup of coffee, Leyla climbs back into bed and pulls her laptop closer while sending a message to her parents, asking to Skype around noon and reminding them to have their computer ready.

Praag is about six hours ahead of America, and by noon, Prague time, Dad should have come back from the fields for breakfast. Mom usually finishes breakfast around seven every morning.

Leyla shivers as she pulls the blankets up higher.

The nights and mornings are really starting to get chilly, Leyla thinks as she curls up to spend a few more minutes under the cozy blankets, but then jumps out of bed quickly when she sees how late it is.

She needs to be in class in forty-five minutes.

After taking a hot shower, and dressing in comfortable denim and a cheerful floral blouse and light jersey, she grabs her bag and hurries off to the university.

Today is a big day at the art school.

Monsieur Savour from the Louvre Museum in Paris is visiting the art school today to give a class on minimalism.

He is not only only an executive of the Louvre Museum, but is also a famous artist himself, with exceptional works in minimalism that are displayed in art galleries around the world. The Minimalism masterclass is offered exclusively to the Master degree students.

Monsieur Savour is an eccentric man in his early forties. Tall and slender, with a certain refinement typical of French men. He is quite an attractive man, with a penetrating dark and seductive gaze, leaving many women (and men, for that matter) in admiration and awe. So very typical French.

However, Leyla is so focused on the art and the methods he is teaching them that she doesn't notice the slight smile on Monsieur Savour's lips every time he looks in her direction, where she is eagerly practicing the techniques on a canvas.

After the three-hour-long, intense study, Leyla hurries so that she can return to the apartment in time for her promised conversation with her parents.

While she is busy gathering her things and packing up, she becomes aware of the figure who has quietly come to stand beside her, thoughtfully looking at the canvas where she had begun painting, applying some of the valuable ideas and knowledge that Monsieur Savour had shared with them.

It is a simple, yet striking piece of art.

For the untrained eye, it is only a bright white background with a thick black horizontal line that slopes slightly upward, but for the eye trained in fine arts, this painting and the techniques used are much more than that.

On the left side of the canvas, the fluidity of the medium she used has created a thin black streak toward the bottom of the canvas.

Just that.

The simplicity of it is striking, touching and inspiring. Leyla feels as though it might not be considered art, but still, the more one looks at the canvas, the more one realizes that nothing can be added, because it would diminish the impact of the artwork.

"Minimalism is about simplicity in its most primal and breathtaking form. You have achieved that. Well done, Mademoiselle."

Louis Savour’s voice sounded pleased.

Leyla smiles, equally pleased. Hearing that from an art connoisseur like Louis Savour feels like a pat on the back. She looks up at him with a smile and finds herself staring into a pair of intense, dark eyes looking down at her.

Leyla frowns slightly, feeling a bit uncomfortable upon noticing his stare.

"Thank you very much, Monsieur. Your class was a powerhouse of knowledge and technique. I’ve definitely discovered a deeper passion for minimalism within myself today."

His face relaxes, and the seriousness departs from his eyes.

Leyla relaxes considerably.

Goodness, the man’s presence is already intimidating, he really shouldn’t look at me so intensely, she thinks, disturbed.

"It’s my pleasure. Please, call me Louis."

"Call me Leyla, Louis." He holds her hand a few seconds longer than Leyla finds appropriate, and he smiles, amused when he notices her slight discomfort.

"Leyla, may I buy you a cup of coffee? I know a very pleasant little café nearby. I’d love to chat with you about what you plan to do after completing your master’s degree."

Leyla is surprised.

She accepts the invitation. Normally, she would never accept an invitation from a stranger, not even a famous one like Monsieur Savour. However, in the end, any bit of advice she can get from professional artists is invaluable to her.

"We’ll walk, it’s not far." Once outside, he casually loops her arm through his. Slightly unsettled by the intimate gesture, Leyla lets him continue. It must be part of French culture, she muses, as they walk through the rows of trees with their changing colors.

Louis chats engagingly about everything under the sun.

By the time they reach the small, half-hidden café, Leyla knows where he was born, where he currently lives, how long he’s been painting, where he studied, and also about his role at the Louvre Museum. He happens to be quite a unique and interesting character, Leyla observes.

"So, tell me a little about yourself, Leyla. I’ve talked enough about myself now." He laughs at his own joke and makes himself comfortable at a cozy little table in the corner of the charming café.

Leyla forces herself to relax and not be so nervous.

He won’t bite, Leyla!

“Well, Louis, I was born in South Africa. When I was about six years old, my parents sold the farm in South Africa and bought one in North Dakota in America. I finished my schooling there and then studied Visual Arts and Design at MIT. After completing my Honors degree, I received the invitation to come to Prague to do my Master’s. It was an opportunity I couldn’t miss.”

Louis had been watching her the whole time with a peculiar smile as she spoke.

"Okay, Leyla, now that you've told me what I already know, why don’t you tell me something about you? The real Leyla. Who you are when you’re not studying and painting.”

When she looks at him, surprised, he explains further.

“Because of my work and my teaching at universities around the world, I know in advance who is in my classes, who the promising students are, whose paintings will one day hang in popular art galleries, and also where each one is from.”

There is a slight tease in his voice.

Leyla blushes. Of course! When someone like Louis Savour teaches a student, he doesn’t teach the masses. He teaches the best of the best. Students like herself, handpicked by art schools.

After a while of chatting about this and that, Leyla begins to feel more at ease with Louis.

The friendly waitress brings them a plate of homemade cookies to enjoy with their coffee, and Leyla immediately decides to drag Juan Marc to this charming café. He’d love it here. He’d instantly declare that this is the kind of place where one could “set up office” for an hour or two.

It's Juan Marc’s favorite pastime: searching for charming coffee shops with free WiFi, setting up his laptop at a small table, and working from there.

Leyla smiled while thinking of her friend.

“A penny for your thoughts, Leyla?” Louis asks, laughing.

Leyla blushes.

“I apologize, Louis. That was really rude of me. I was actually thinking about how cute this place is and how my friend will love this quirky little coffee shop.”

“I’m glad you find the place pleasant. I love a cozy café myself, and I try to come here every time I visit Prague,” he explains, looking around.

“For example, look at the fireplaces scattered around the place. Perfect for lighting up when it starts getting too cold. And the wine rack in the corner – what more could one need on a cold, snowy day than a good glass of Pinot Noir, a warm fireplace, soft music, and good company?” His eyes are just a little too intense as he describes the scene.

Leyla looks at the fireplaces, the wine rack he pointed out, the shelves full of homemade cookies and pastries, and even notices a bookcase with books in one corner. Juan Marc absolutely must see this place!

Leyla had noticed the intensity in his gaze but chose to ignore it. That strange tingling is running down her spine again. The man still makes her slightly uncomfortable!

To ease the slightly tense atmosphere, Leyla skillfully steers the conversation into safer waters, asking him about France, wine making there, and art history, which she has a keen interest in.

She watches him as he enthusiastically explains how wine making has evolved in the last century and how France produces some of the best export wines in the world. Pride glimmers in his voice when he talks about his country.

Leyla smiles.

Although he’s somewhat pompous and dominant on one hand, and slightly refined on the other, she finds him easy to talk to. His knowledge and interest in the arts are incredible, and she’s genuinely enjoying his company more than she expected. It’s only sometimes, when she looks up unexpectedly, that he gazes at her a bit too intensely, broodingly. And there’s a soft lisp in his voice that borders on slyness for her. But then he smiles broadly again, and the moment passes.

Before she realizes it, time has flown by, and she has to hurry for her appointment with her parents on Skype.

“Louis, you’ll have to excuse me, please. I’ve made arrangements to Skype with my parents over lunch, and it’s almost time. Will you excuse me?”

Does she imagine it, or is there a slight irritated twitch around his mouth?

But then he smiles broadly again.

“Of course, Leyla. Thank you very much for the pleasant time. We never really got to talk in-depth about your artwork, though. I have a suggestion I’d like to make. I’m still in Prague until next week. Could I perhaps take you out for dinner one evening? That would give us more time to really dive deep into discussing the future.” He looks at her thoughtfully.

Leyla frowns slightly but accepts the invitation with thanks. She glances quickly at her watch.

“Louis, can we talk over the phone about a time and place? I really have to go now.”

After they said their goodbyes and exchanged phone numbers, Leyla hurried to the apartment to contact her parents.

Louis Savour watches her disappearing figure with a sudden possessiveness that had not been visible on his face before, and if Leyla had looked back at that moment, she would not have considered seeing him again.

As a determined look forms around his mouth, he speaks softly to himself: “This one can’t get away.”

Then, without another glance, he turns and walks back to the counter to pay the bill, smiling kindly at the waitress, complimenting her on the excellent service, and whistles as he walks out.