A single celestial body in space, amidst dim desolation, looking like a planet, but on closer look, also like a heart, a dull reddish, dry and cracked one, one ready to break down and burst apart at any moment. It looked to be surviving in a burning hell, even though its very existence had become so hollow that the flames feeding off it could only struggle to hold on.
The painting Sharon had turned toward the kitchen was somber in tone. It was a story of blood, fire, desolation, and desperation. Beyond that, however, its most striking feature was the sheer determination radiating from it, a determination that seemed to be putting out the hellish flames while itself burning like a sun deep within the cracked heart.
What made it an amazing painting, as Sharon said, however, was the planet, the burning heart amidst desolation looking like it could spring to life at any moment, like it could start beating at any moment and jump out of the tableau, but also like it could just crack up and break down, with its dry crust capable of turning into ash and drifting away at any moment.
That duality of fragility and strength, of life and death, that state somewhere between rebirth and damnation, where one step might lead to heaven and another to hell, that struggle kept alive by the determination amidst the tragedy embodied by the painting, those lent the artwork a poignancy that made it a true masterpiece, a chef d'œuvre.
Was the painting bright or grim? That might depend on the viewer, as well as the state of mind of the latter at the moment when the depiction was being appreciated. Nevertheless, it was those feelings it carried that touched something in the depth of Sharon's heart, and captured her attention.
Alex didn't lose his composure for long, just for a brief instant, one the blonde did not even perceive, amidst her lingering amazement at the painting. With a light breath, he returned his gaze to the cutting board, and resumed moving the knife he was holding.
*Tak* *Tak* *Tak*
Amidst the noise of the knife hitting the cutting board, he spoke with his usual levity:
"Now that you have seen what you wanted, I think you can go back to what you were doing."
Though surprised by the blatant lack of interest, Sharon didn't press for answers for her questions. She replied:
"I was about to leave for work."
"Then, do that."
Sharon paused, this time noticing something. Only, what had shifted in Alex's behavior was too subtle for her to put her finger on it. Moreover…. Her mind flashed back to the last exchange they had yesterday, and she silently went to her room to pick up her bags.
When she returned, Alex was already eating, seated at the countertop while looking outside through the open door of the balcony. He was calm, his rippleless eyes seemingly embracing the peaceful beauty of the blue sky while his whole being relaxed after the draining exercise he had apparently put himself through.
His state carried a faint indifference that, at the same time, felt almost regal.
Sharon didn't walk straight to the door of the apartment. She slowed down as she approached the kitchen, and stopped on the other side of the counter, even though not across from Alex, to avoid blocking the view. She hesitated for a moment, but when Alex's attention still didn't fall on her, she spoke, her voice softer than usual, and her next words, uncharacteristic of how she had always shown herself:
"Hm…. I… I apologize for yesterday."
Alex's hand paused for a moment, before he resumed eating without offering any answer. Sharon did not mind. Now that she at least had his attention, she continued:
"I don't know if you can finally have some trust in me, now that you have dug out my personal history and you know my past, and most of my life. I can understand what you did, and why you did so. I suppose anyone would have done the same thing in your place, however I only intruded into your life because I had no other choice. I only want to ask one thing of you. Even if, for reasons I don't know, you prefer to pretend that there is no red string between us, no matter what happens going forward, please, don't involve my mother. She has nothing to do with anything, and she is suffering enough as it is. I don't want her to be implicated, or impacted in any way. Please."
Alex finally pulled his gaze back from the blue sky outside to look at the blonde. He calmly took in the earnest look on her face. His mind went to the part of the report about her parents, then his own mother's image flashed past his mind.
He swallowed the food in his mouth, and turned back to appreciate the warm blue of the sky, though, this time, he gave an answer to Sharon's words:
"You asked to be my assistant, so focus on your work. As for the rest, the sooner you leave my place, the happier we will all be."
The words without any bite made Sharon's expression brighten up as she smiled:
"Alright, I understand."
Seeing Alex not seeming like he would say more, she excuses herself:
"If there is nothing else, I will be leaving for the office."
She took her bags off the stool at the counter and left, but not before glancing one more time at the painting that had been delivered just earlier. It was when she was closing the door behind her that she finally put a finger on what she had noticed before.
The painting seemed to have made Alex's mood foul.
She glanced at the door, then turned away to walk to the elevator.
Back inside, Alex finished his breakfast at a speed neither fast nor slow, cleaned the dishes and the utensils, then went to clean himself up.
His quiet, as he went about his activities, was morose, and his mind, on the painting in the living room.
When he came out of his room again, he was wearing a three-piece suit, looking sharp, and cold.
He came to stand before the desolate painting with one hand in his pocket, and after a moment, his gaze never moving away, he took out his phone to make a call which got picked up after the second ringtone. He didn't wait for the other side to speak. He spoke first, not cold, but curt, calm:
"Mom."