Wanderlust

May 1: Chapter 6

Minnie was a huge fan of Elizabeth. She seemed to be having the most fun compared to all the siblings. She was also the only one who didn’t avoid her or try to talk about legal business all day.

“You like my brother?” Elizabeth asked.

Minnie thought she might choke on her own saliva at the question. Yes, she had liked him. She had perhaps even fallen in love with him. Did that mean that it required so much attention around it?

“Which one?” She asked. “Nicholas?”

“Only Dad calls him that.” Elizabeth nodded, her green eyes were a study. Unlike Nic’s they seemed to be less trouble but more cautious danger. Testing its limits. “Yes, Nicholas.”

“He’s nice.” She nodded, a slight edge on her voice.

“You like him.” Elizabeth stated.

Minnie didn’t know if she did like him. Of course, she had held him dear in her heart since that very day they meet. But now, did she still have that will to care about him in such a way again. Or would their relationship sink to the bottom of the ocean.

“What makes you say that?”

“I know.” Elizabeth’s face seemed to get narrower as she looked at Minnie. Her gaze slid intense. Minnie’s heart began to beat faster, her hands grew clammier.

“About what?” She kept her face calm. Or as calm as she could.

“What happened all those years ago.” Elizabeth answered, her voice was soft and low. “I know he went to Cape Town for a while and he fell in love with some princess who had to go off to her duties.”

Minnie didn’t say anything.

“I also know that what happened there hurt him and he hasn’t been the same since.” Elizabeth continued. “I can tell you still care about him but please don’t hurt him again.”

Minnie still didn’t say anything. She couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t mention how it had hurt to have to go home and have to marry some guy that she barely knew. It was those emotions that had caused her countless nights and forced a composed face on her features.

She had seen her mother wear the same one for many years with no understanding but the older she got, the clearer the need for one became.

“I didn’t come here to hurt him.” Minenhle explained.

“He still looks at you.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Minnie, I’m just trying to help. Moving on hasn’t helped for him, maybe seeing you or being with you will help. I just want my brother to be happy.”

“No.” Minnie looked at the girl. She would not be involved in whatever games were being constructed by her.

Elizabeth shrugged and walked over to a beach side lounger. She reclined and placed her sunglasses on her nose.

“Don’t worry.” The girl smiled wide, “It will be fun.”

Minnie shook her head at the young girl. She could hear the determination in her voice. If anything, Minnie was in for a ride that she didn’t expect.

****

Nicholas didn’t like business meetings or agendas, they reminded him too much of family dinners.

Aunt Calla sat at the head, Sirena on her right and Isabella on the left. Nathanael sat next to his wife and Christopher and Elizabeth sat opposite their parents. Nic was faced with the impossible task of being right opposite Minnie.

Everybody at the table seemed to be dressed for said meeting. All except Sirena, she didn’t dress up. She always wore her floor length summer dresses and her hair loose over her black hair over her shoulders.

Nicholas envied the way that she didn’t seem to care. That everybody else was dining with the president of the United States of America and that in a few hours he would be gone back to his duties.

“Miss Ntuli are you enjoying your stay here?” Isabella questioned.

“Yes, very much thank you, Mrs Thorpe.” Minnie smiled. Isabella nodded.

“What kind of business do you do?” Isabella questioned, lifting a fork to her lips.

“I sell art, mainly.” Minnie answered.

“I am sure you already know that my son, Nicholas is a painter.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I have heard that he is very good.”

“You should show her some of your work, Nic.”

Nic didn’t say anything. He found his mother’s expectant gaze and nodded soft and gentle. The dinner carried on as usual, his father spared him one glance to indicate he remembered having a middle son and his sister had on her widest and best smile. Aunt Calla ate her dinner, hoping that no one would notice how she held Sirena’s thigh beneath the table.

When it was over and the table was cleared, Isabella called to her son.

“You should go show her your artwork.”

He sighed, no use arguing with his mother. There was nothing else that he could do. He would make the offer, she would politely decline and that would be the end of it.

“Would you like to see my paintings?” He asked. He tried not to sound like a moody teenager. He prayed that she would say no but his mother was looking at her, with an expectant smile.

“Of course.” She nodded, finishing off her glass of wine. The liquid disappeared between her thick red lips and he was left watching it. He remembered seeing her hunched over a drink at McDonalds, those very same lips wrapped around a small straw, drinking up the drink.

She looked nothing like that moment.

He took a breath as he began to lead them upstairs into his room.

He didn’t have a full collection there, only two completed and one half done. The issue was not that he didn’t trust himself around her. He didn’t know what he wanted out of her and he didn’t know what she wanted out of him.

He allowed her into his small room. Minnie was a different sort of human. A beauty and an odd study, so of course like the creep he was he didn’t paint her. He hadn’t painted her since a few years ago. His visions of her hadn’t grown fuzzy but he had decided that painting your ex-girlfriend was not normal and or what fully functioning person would do.

He should have been out there, dating or something of the sort. Everybody else around him was doing that, even Elizabeth. He wasn’t awful looking and he didn’t think he was a horrible person. So perhaps, maybe he should have tried to go out more.

Minnie wandered into the small room, she took in the colour of the walls and looked around for any signs of more life. When she drew none, she carried on. She walked further and further into the space, it seemed to shift around her. Moving and creating a universe where that was all there was. She fitted into the small blue room. Her eyes caught the easel on the corner.

On it was the uncompleted image of his sister, she had been smiling as she reclined her head in sunlight. He hoped to capture that pure moment and smile. For the most part the canvas was still pencil but for the light hues he had added first.

On the floor, leaning against the wall were two canvases. One was small and held the painting of a simple bowl of fruit. Not just any sort but the one currently down stairs in the kitchen. It held a bunch of fruits.

The other one was a painting of the waves. He didn’t know how many he had painted with waves reaching and breaking the shore. It had become muscle memory, the paintbrush and his hands. It was one way to paint as he watched it happen, watched the same scene unfold in front of him but that specific sea had a surfboard. It drifted away from shore with no surfer, it was a dark grey against the white and blue surf.

Minnie didn’t say anything as she studied his artwork.

The room was collapsed in silence and he hoped that she would say something, anything. Just to elevate the silence.

“Still really good.” She said, nodding at the artwork. She gave it her best intense gaze and he felt as if he was the one beneath scrutiny not his artwork. Why would her opinion on the subject matter?

“You don’t-” He began.

“What if I wanted to do it?” She said, her voice had dropped into something like a whisper. Soft and gentle on the ears.

He just looked at her. He didn’t say anything, he just ran a hand through his hair.

He took a careful step towards her, she turned to face him. With her heels on, she was just tall enough that her eyes reach his nose. She swallowed, his heart sped up. She seemed even more beautiful up close. It was not hard to hope that she would lean up and kiss him.

No, he chastised his thoughts.

“We can’t play this game.” He said.

“I hate to say it but you still hold me captive.” She shook her head, her eyes on his. She still couldn’t look away and he couldn’t stop looking, searching for himself and her in the dark of her eyes.

“Sometimes, I don’t remember if I was meant to be the pirate or the captive.” Nicholas admitted, a small smile tugged it his lips. He couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t have been doing this. It was dangerous. Their bodies were close, she was almost in his arms again.

“I wished you were both.” She shook her head, a small smile on her lips too. He leaned closer, their foreheads were so close. Her eyes sparkled and were flaked with brown.

“I didn’t care either way.” He said, his lips reached dangerously close to hers. A mere brush of his breath on her skin.

Somebody knocked at the door, the moment collapsed. They moved away from each other. It was nothing more than Christopher. They hadn’t closed the door and he stood in the doorway. His stern features seemed to study the scene in front of him and reached logical conclusions.

“I came to see if you two were fine.”

Nic cleared his throat, his face heated up. He had been caught red-handed and he might have not cared much about it. He was used to be in trouble. He hoped that for her sake it was nothing that would get her into trouble. It was easy enough for him to act unaffected. He would blame himself for an eternity if she lost the business deal.

Christopher looked between the two of them before he turned and retreated back down the hallway. Minnie was the first to speak.

“I should go after him.” She said.

“You should.” Nic agreed.

But she didn’t make any effort to move, she bit her lip.

Minenhle met Nic’s gaze, for a moment before she dropped it for the safety of her retreat.

She glanced back one more time, he knew how her kiss felt. He understood what it meant, and he hoped and prayed for another one. But right then wasn’t the moment and he didn’t know if he would ever get another chance.

So he took a deep breath and hoped for his own sanity that somewhere Christopher wasn’t burning any bridges.

****