Chain of Vengeance: Chapter Eight - Part One

SAN FRANCISCO

 

 

“Here they are Molly,” said Eden, standing aside so that she could see into the room.

Jack’s paintings were leaning against the wall, spread around the study so that each one was visible. She stepped over the threshold. The blinds were drawn on the morning sun, so she walked closer, picking out the form of each painting, unable this far away and in the gloom to make out the texture of the individual strokes.

She lifted one up in her hands, holding it away to get perspective on it. Her arms were bare, the crop top close around her chest. She was wearing shorts too and the chill in the room without the sunlight getting through reached her bare skin quickly. Turning the picture, the light from the hallway caught the colours, accentuating the ridges of thick paint. She turned it further and the image appeared.

It was the picture of a man and a woman, the man in the foreground, much larger. They seemed to be married, this couple, but unhappily. The wife was shouting at her husband, index finger raised while her other hand closed in a fist. Etched in her brow and cheeks were lines of her anger and frustration, her desperation. The man looked cowed and defenceless. His figure was contracted, shoulders drawn in around his neck. There was sorrow and pain in his face, in the tightly drawn lines across his forehead and the point his eyebrows reached at the centre.

Molly tilted the picture further, gazing closer into the eyes of these people, wondering if they were real; if they existed somewhere.

The incredible thing about this work was its compassion; its understanding. The husband was not just the victim. His nagging wife was not portrayed as irrational. There was real truth here beyond stereotype and subjective reality. The strain both of the figures was under was clear. Neither one was the enemy of the other and Molly longed to be able to reach into the frame and show them both that. It seemed a terrible misunderstanding. Cast here was a blueprint of thousands of situations in life; not just domestic rancour. The tragedy of these two people, who must have loved each other once and probably still did now, was completely lucid. The pressure that had driven the couple to this, making them both victims, was plain.

It was the most profound piece of artwork she had ever seen. There were tears in her eyes when she turned back to Eden. “I can’t believe how beautiful it is.”

The old man nodded. He was no longer dressed in his traditional black. He wore a pale green shirt and a cardigan. He looked many years younger. Eden pointed to a new picture in pastels standing on a makeshift easel made of piled up books. “He did this one last night when he came back covered in bruises, working like a demon”

It showed two lovers sitting on a bench in a park at night, surrounded by trees and fog, their backs to the viewer. Unlike the anger and movement in the other, this one possessed warmth and stillness. The woman seemed upset, pressed against the man for support and love as he surrounded her with his strong arms. She shimmered, a light rising from her, as though… As though her spirit were emerging from her body and forming a mist around them.

It was a picture of her and Jack last night, Molly knew that completely, and it touched her like the caress of a careful and attentive husband. If anything it was more beautiful than the painting of the arguing couple. 

“Jack said he wanted you to have them all,” said Eden, breaking her out of her trance.

“What? You have to be kidding.”

He shook his head and creased the sides of his mouth up. “They’re yours.”

She moved into the rest of the room, turning on the spot so that she could see them all. So much beauty; it was eclipsing the strangeness and joy of returning here to her father’s house and being welcome at last. Each strand of happiness was winding around the next to form a stronger and stronger rope. All due to Jack, the man she had felt such hatred toward.

And now, what did she feel?

“What are you going to do with them?” asked Eden, leaning against the doorframe, the light from beyond illuminating the air around his head in a halo.

Molly thought about it hard for a moment then she turned to him, full of determination and said, “I’m going to make some calls and do everything I can to get them shown so that everyone can see this work for themselves.”