Chapter 5

“As I sit here on a snowy morning watching the flakes gently fall outside my window, I look at the 300-year-old building across the street and the beautifully carved angels on its facade. There was a time people would create, just to give something beautiful to the world which we are so blessed to live in and a time when people understood the work of all of the arts.”
–Kytka Hilmar-Jezek

The next day, Lisa opened her eyes when the sun was already up high in the sky. Compared to the past couple of nights, when her sleep had been troubled and difficult, permeated by a vague sense of uneasiness that she had been unable to pinpoint, this time she had been able to rest like a baby. So strange…

It was a beautiful sunny day and, even though the morning frost covering the city outside testified of a chilly night, the reflection of the sun over the clean, untouched snow truly was a sight to behold. Lisa loved how her bed had been placed in a way that faced the French doors and, sitting up, she enjoyed the view of the beautiful Prague for several minutes. Just staying there and watching quietly, trying not to think about anything.

It was magic.

Just complete, utter silence. The smell of clean sheets and fresh flowers in the bedroom. Warmth. All would have been perfect, if only she hadn’t been there all alone.

Almost immediately her mind went back to the previous evening. To that shower and everything that had come with it. The thoughts and the memories, yes, but also the actions. How long since she had pleasured herself while thinking about Michael? It had been a lifetime, or so it seemed. While in the past, when they were still a couple and not physically together, having him in her mind was the only thing able to get her off. She never had to think about any other man. She didn’t need anyone but him.

Of course, he was more than aware of that and reciprocated just as much with his intense lust for her. The countless times they had engaged in torrid sessions of phone sex whenever they were miles apart testified to that mutual addiction. He loved imagining her playing with herself just as much as she adored the idea of him getting off only using her voice… and his beautiful hand. To the point that, at times, she had even asked him to do it right in front of her, and to let her watch him, because that sight alone was enough to almost make her come.

Damn…

Lisa sighed. It had been almost as intense, the previous night. And after that little interlude in the shower, she had felt much more relaxed. Much more at peace with herself and even with Michael. As a matter of fact, she had gone to bed pretty early, had managed to read a few pages of the book she had brought to Prague, and then she had fallen asleep like a baby and rested throughout the night. No uneasiness, no nightmares, no sudden awakenings. Just quiet, peaceful darkness that the sun rays had eventually chased away. It had almost felt like having Michael there with her. Almost.

Yet, this morning the intruding thought was once again whispering about what had happened in Paris the previous summer. The events transpired that day had shown Lisa a part of Michael that she hadn’t even imagined existed. A nasty, mocking, cruel part that she had not been ready to face. Not even after breaking up with him. Only rarely in her life she had felt so humiliated, so inadequate and unimportant, and no walks in the snow or small conversations could ever erase that.

Lisa swallowed and her gaze fell on her hands, resting in her lap, over the lily-white cover. She still recalled how giddy she had been when she had received that letter back in June. It had been the most unexpected event ever, given that she and Michael had been progressively drifting apart after their breakup. Their love seemed to be going through a quiet and yet unstoppable agony. They weren’t really friends, nor close. They would speak over the phone at times, and that was pretty much it. Like two addicts unable to go gold turkey, needing that little fix to keep going.

That was why that letter – short but poignant – had been so surprising.

“Lisa,

Please, see me in Paris. Be at the Gare du Nord, rail 7, on June 18th early in the afternoon. You will find a dozen of red roses waiting for you. They won’t go unnoticed, I promise. Then call me when you’ve found them. I still don’t know where I will be exactly, but I know I will be there. We need to talk.

Love,

M.”

That was it. Not much, yet enough for a flock of butterflies to take off in her stomach. Her eyes had welled up, her chest felt on fire. It was a weird invitation, and she had no idea why he had not been more specific, but she supposed she would find out soon. He had always loved to surprise her, after all. Meanwhile, she had been unable to not feel ecstatic, because the previous six months sure had been hellish for her. Pretending to be over Michael was one thing, but truly being over him was something else entirely.

Yet, in retrospect, she believed that leaving him had been the best choice in the long run, it didn’t matter how bad it hurt. Her relationship with Michael was not going anywhere and hadn’t been for quite some time. After the first, exhilarating couple of years following their stupid divorce, when potentially everything was still on the table and she had the feeling that it was all a matter of time, their affair had become somehow stagnant. He was obviously not at all ready to commit to her again, it didn’t matter how many times he would tell her that he loved her. And it didn’t even matter that he would always make love to her as if she was the only woman on Earth for him.

Of course, he had never said it out loud. He had never had the balls to admit it. He had never told Lisa that he would never, ever be able to go back to the kind of relationship they had before. That he was scared or that he no longer envisioned or longed for what they used to share. That he didn’t want her that way, that commitment scared the living daylights out of him. However, the facts spoke loud and clear. Michael loved his freedom, creatively and otherwise. He was sexually faithful, didn’t have other women on the side when he and Lisa were in one of their “on” periods. But he wasn’t always emotionally available and, too often, she felt as if he would never be there for her the way she needed. Or if she really needed him.

After a while, she had just stopped trusting him. It had been a gradual and yet steady process and to acknowledge it had broken her heart. Of course, the moment she had begun to pull away, he had stopped trusting her in return – as shown by his progressive inability to be emotionally open with her. The sex was great as usual, but at one point it had become almost the only thing that she and Michael shared. With time, she had started to become impatient, and her impatience had pushed him even further away from her. Their meetings had decreased in frequency, albeit not in depth. Or passion, for that matter. The intensity of their physical connection had remained intact, and that, paradoxically, had hurt Lisa even more.

How could this man simply walk away as if nothing important at all had happened after almost dying with her, inside of her, while they were making love? She knew he couldn’t fake his reaction, and yet she had felt as if she no longer recognized the guy she had fallen in love with, broken her family for, married and returned to – countless times. At times, when her mood was really low, she had almost felt like his personal whore. The paramour that the king knew could always string along, who was always ready to jump to her feet whenever he snapped his fingers. And kings, obviously, would always do as they pleased. And who they pleased.

Mostly, Lisa had felt cornered and the suffocating feeling of pure, undiluted stagnation had become the schism that finally had pushed her away from him for good. Or so she had believed. Because of course, when Michael had sent her that letter she had immediately sprung back into action. It was as if he was finally coming back to her and it had felt so different compared to the means of communication he had used in recent times. It had been surprising and romantic and a bit mysterious, just like in the good old days, when he would always stun her in the most beautiful possible way. And so, despite trying to act cool and collected about it, she was ecstatic and the very next day she had booked a flight to Paris. After all, her special meeting with Michael was only three days away.

And then disaster had struck.

It had been one of the most humiliating moments of her life and Lisa had felt so small, so insignificant. So disposable, once again. That understanding had been dropped upon her like a ton of bricks the very moment she had realized that the roses he had promised she would find at the station just weren’t there. Nor was Michael, for that matter. She had searched everywhere, but they were just not there. There was nothing. And nobody.

What an apt simile for the end of her relationship with the only man she was sure she would never stop loving, regardless. And what an idiot she had been once again, by trusting him. What a stupid bitch she was, ready to run after him the moment he snapped his fingers, as usual.

Yet she had stayed, and had waited over an hour in the underbelly of that Paris station. The people coming and going around her were nothing but ghosts in the periphery of her vision. After a while, she had realized that it wasn’t that she couldn’t see Michael or that he was hiding somewhere. He was just not there and would not show up. Who knew, maybe he was laughing behind her back at that very moment – wherever he was. And whoever with.

When she had finally left, Lisa had been able to refrain from crying until she had been in the safe space of a taxi. And then she had broken down, not even paying attention to the driver, who surreptitiously kept glancing over at her through the rearview mirror.

It had occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, what had transpired at the Gare du Nord was nothing but Michael’s way to make her understand that it was really over between them. Whatever they had shared in the past, for years, had come to a screeching and painful halt. Maybe she had been unable to realize it up until that point, but she surely had that day.

It had been at that very moment that she had decided that she would have to move on without him. Despite the scars he had so obviously left in her soul, cutting her so profoundly that complete recovery was just unfathomable. She would survive. People had endless survival resources. She would be okay someday. Somehow.

The Threshold had been a blessing and, at the beginning of August, she had left for Prague and there she had stayed for quite some time. Working her ass off, too. It had helped her more than anyone could ever imagine. Being with other people, new people, in such a different environment, had prompted her to see things from a new perspective. By being pulled out of her own element, without a safe shelter to return to, Lisa had found shelter and strength in herself. Going back to the hotel every single night, feeling exhausted and emotionally replenished, had kept her focused and mentally vibrant.

She had laughed a lot. She had bruised her hands and knees while working like a mule in the huge vegetable gardens behind the refectory. She had burned her skin under the scorching hot sun. At times she had felt frustrated and beyond worn out. But she had also felt more like herself than it had happened in the previous year.

And then at one point, she had even indulged in an unexpected, fleeting affair. She had not planned anything of that sort, really. It had just happened, and she had welcomed the distraction just like she had opened her arms to every little thing that that particular time of her life brought. Her tattered heart definitely needed some mending and, if recovery started from the body, she was all for it. Besides, she missed someone holding her, making her feel beautiful. Making her feel special, as if she meant something.

Cezar was one of the cooks. In fact, he was a chef and worked in a luxury restaurant in Budapest, but had decided to take some time off and work pro bono for The Threshold because he was an old friend of Dana’s.

He had ended up spending the entire summer in Prague, from June to September. He was a loudmouthed guy with a heard of gold and was great in the kitchen, of course. Lisa had been so darn hungry all the time, while working at what she called the “sanctuary”, that it had been relatively easy for Cezar to seduce her with his food. He was cute, too, with his big green eyes and curly red hair. He was stubbly and crumpled and always looked as if he had just gotten out of bed, and his sense of humor was sarcastic and a bit dark, just like Lisa liked it. He would constantly come up with stupid little jokes, even when it really was not the case, and he would make her laugh. She had needed to laugh so much, back then. To open a crack in her armor hadn’t been hard for him.

However, most of all Cezar was easy. Not an intense guy at all. He didn’t want anything from her and was not looking for any committed relationship. In fact, he had told Lisa that he was still very much in love with his ex-wife, with whom he shared a ten-year-old son, Viktor. According to what Cezar had said one night, while he and Lisa were sharing a drink after work, his former partner had found another boyfriend. Any romantic perspective seemed implausible, and Cezar didn’t think he would ever be able to get his woman back.

“I know it’s unlikely… but if Malika ever wants to come back to me, I’ll be there. Always.”

Lisa had taken a big gulp of beer, eying him.

“That’s fucked up, man. Nobody should forever wait for anyone. It’s fucking stupid.”

“And yet, sometimes it happens. That’s the beauty of it.” He had played with his crappy paper napkin. “Sometimes you just love that special someone, and you can’t help it. It just is what it is. And Malika is that for me. She’s my it girl. I can’t do anything about it.”

Deep down, Lisa knew that he was right. What she didn’t know back then was that only a couple of hours later she and Cezar would have been in bed together, having sex.

It had been nice. Surprising, too, since Lisa was not sure she would ever be able to give herself to someone else so early after having her heart shattered into tiny little fragments. Instead, the night had been pleasurable. Of course, the sex hadn’t been even remotely mind-blowing, since Michael seemed to have full reign over every cord of her body, but still… It had been better than she could ever hope for.

And so it had happened again, more than once, during those few summer weeks that she had spent in Prague. It was nothing profound. It was just a way to keep each other’s company.

When she had told Cezar that she had to fly back home, he had just smiled and shrugged.

“Well… We know it would happen…”

“Yeah, we did.”

It had been relieving, because him being casual about what they had shared was all that Lisa needed. And he genuinely didn’t seem bothered that nothing but some reciprocal comfort had come out of their affair.

She had never seen him or heard from him again since. And right now, while she was in Prague again, Cezar had disappeared behind Michael’s gigantic shadow. What a surprise. Only not. There was just something about Mike that made every other man just vanish from Lisa’s field of vision. It had always been that way, even before they got together. Even when they were nothing but friends spending hours on end talking over the phone. Even back then, she had been hooked. She would look forward those stolen hours in anticipation, because Michael had the ability to make her feel understood and heard. Unique. She would always feel safe when he was there with her – even if he was at the other corner of the world. His emotional closeness was enough.

“I love talking to you, Lise,” he had told her one night, so many years earlier. “I really do.”

“Oh, yeah? How so?” She had laughed, very casually, not reading much into his words. Maybe not wanting to.

“Because I can be myself with you. I don’t have to pretend I’m something I’m not.”

She had savored that morsel of truth for a moment. It tasted different from everything she and Michael had shared up until that point. It had made her feel in a way that she couldn’t even describe. As if part of her already knew what those words would end up entailing in the end. And of course, she had been right, because when they had finally met in Japan during his world tour, it had happened. Everything had happened. The Big-Bang of her own very existence, that special something that had since defined the person that she was.

She couldn’t just pretend it wasn’t there, but she could make the most out of this charade. And since she wasn’t the one making the clock tick, and this thing in Prague wasn’t about her and Michael at all, Lisa had to get out of her head and do what she was there to do.

Raking her fingers through her hair, she soldiered up and finally got out of bed.

When she arrived at The Threshold, the first person she bumped into was Jaroslav. He was beyond excited and immediately told Lisa that Michael had shown up around ten that morning, ready to work.

Lisa scrunched her eyebrows in genuine surprise.

“What do you mean, ready to work?”

“Well… That’s what he said. That he was ready to do whatever he could be helpful. Then he helped clean all the dishes and got them all nice and ready in the refectory. And now he’s taking care of those walls leading to the bedrooms area….” He smiled. “You know, the walls that needed to be painted.”

This time, her eyebrows sprung up.

“Are you for real? Are we talking about the same Michael?”

Jaroslav laughed.

“Totally real! I had no idea he could be so tireless!”

“Well, he is an energetic man, but-”

“I thought it only worked on stage and in the recording studio, to be honest…”

Lisa just shrugged, not really knowing what to say.

Yes and no. Of course, Michael was a workaholic and could stay in the studio for days on end, or on a stage for hours without missing a beat. However, through the years she had come to understand that he could be just as dedicated while doing pretty much anything else, as long as he wanted to do it. She had witnessed Michael becoming the perfect father to his kids, changing diapers like a pro, washing and ironing their clothes himself, turning into an expert on baby nutrition and so on. At one point during their marriage, when they were still actively trying to have babies, he had also turned into a living encyclopedia when it came to pregnancy. It had warmed her heart back then… and the memory of it hurt her profoundly the very moment it came back to the surface.

“No, Mike can do whatever he wants. He’s a very intelligent man… and a quick learner. That’s one of his biggest talents.”

“Not only that, Lisa.” She and Jaroslav were now walking across the beautiful garden that she had contributed setting up just a few months earlier. She still remembered how lush and green it had looked in August. Right now, it was covered in snow. But it would soon bloom again. “There’s just something about him… Something I noticed yesterday. He’s… what’s the word…”

“Original?” Lisa smiled, and Jaroslav laughed heartily.

“Yeah, that too. But I meant to say that he’s… dedicated. As if he really cares.”

“He does care. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, Jaro.”

“And he’s modest. Michael seems to be a genuinely humble man.”

Lisa stopped mid-step and turned to look at his friend for a moment. During her previous stay in Prague, she had come to know Jaroslav and his wife pretty well. They were regular people, level-headed, hard-working, as real as it came. Not easily starstruck. They took what was offered with utter gratitude, but they were not easily excitable. While right now, Jaro looked and sounded over the moon. Again – not starstruck at all, because he certainly treated Michael in a very normal manner, but positively affected by his presence.

“You like him, don’t you?”

Jaro stared at her for a moment, just studying her face.

“I do. He’s nothing like the guy the media loves to portray. He’s very authentic and genuine. Because you see, Lisa Marie… To have the biggest superstar on the planet help you out with your project by funding it is one thing… But to see him roll up his sleeves and doing his part to make everything go the way it’s supposed to go is not something we are used to expecting.”

Yeah… she understood. Michael was just that kind of man. For better or worse, he always managed to surprise everyone around him. She knew that firsthand.

“Michael is different from everybody else.”

Jaroslav nodded, and his smile widened.

“Yeah… I can tell. By the way… I’m sorry Dana and I didn’t tell you that it was him, investing in our project. But we were afraid that you would pull out.”

“No, it’s fine… I understand that the Threshold is of the utmost importance for you guys.”

“It is. But just so you know, Michael didn’t know either. That you were involved in this, I mean. You guys just dropped in our lap like a miracle and we didn’t want to fuck it up.”

She had to laugh at Jaroslav’s candor.

“Yeah, I get that… Don’t worry about it.”

And she truly meant it. Maybe in different circumstances she would have gone off at anyone in charge, but not in this case. There was just no duplicity in Dana and Jaro, no deceit at all. And of course, their charity came first for them. They could not and would not allow what they likely perceived as two bitter exes to destroy their dream.

“Thank you for being so understanding.” He gently touched her elbow. “Come. I’m sure he can’t wait to see you. The first thing he asked earlier was when you would show up.”

For real? After all, Lisa didn’t know how that warm and fuzzy feeling made her feel. Yet, all of a sudden, she wanted to see what Michael was working on.

Some more blue and some more red mixed together to create a kaleidoscope of purples that made him think of a sunset he had seen in Africa long ago. He had been so young back then. Unscarred, untouched by so many things and hopeful about what the future would bring. He couldn’t remember the specifics of that trip, but the precise shade of that sky, almost touching the surface of the sea, was embedded in his memory as if it had always belonged there. It felt as if it had happened yesterday, while instead it had been so long ago.

So much else had happened in the years that had passed since, and possibly for some bizarre butterfly effect they were all meant to bring him here, in this moment in time, doing something that he would have likely never fathomed.

Michael was spray-painting the walls and he loved every minute of it. It had taken him a bit to get familiar with the machine, but now he was managing pretty well. It wasn’t rocket science for sure. And of course, he had no intention to just paint those two walls that led to the different bedrooms in the building. He wanted something artistic for that place. He intended to create something special that the people – the families, the kids – could see before going to sleep and after waking up.

After pondering over the best approach for a bit, he had eventually decided to just get inspired as he went along. His hand had moved fluidly and he had begun to create something that maybe, in some way, resembled a Van Gogh painting. Only, slightly more abstract and not driven by any intense emotional discomfort. Quite the opposite, in fact. As he kept painting, Michael felt utterly at ease and at peace. He was confident and knew exactly what to do, and his movements were guided by his soul more than his brain. He wanted those walls to be emotive and uplifting, relaxing and comforting and maybe, with a bit of luck – and the right shades of colors – he would accomplish just that.

He had begun down the corridor, painting his way up from the bedroom doors to the exit of the building. The colors of dawn. The shades of a clear sky at the beginning of twilight and before sunrise, when the sun was still below the observer’s horizon. He had imagined the sky to be clear and had painted it blue, but with some shades of bronze, orange and yellow. He had drawn some bright stars and planets, still slightly visible between the puffy, smudged clouds. Venus and Jupiter, to be precise. In a corner, he had handwritten the Old English word “Dagian”. To become day.

Then he had moved to the opposite wall, which was the first one anyone’s eye would spot while walking down the corridor and toward the rooms. He imagined the guests reaching their bedrooms late in the evening and decided that the wall would be the chromatic manifestation of dusk – right after the sunset, but just before night. In his mind’s eye, there was still just enough light in the sky – he didn’t want the wall to be too dark – and his hands had acted accordingly. The spray painting machine had followed the colors combination his mind painted, and the chromatic scheme had become a blend of blue and purple, deep mauve, pink and desert sand. It had become “Doxian”. Both walls were ample, but Michael thought that he had it all figured out at this point. He only needed a few more hours to get it all done – and then it would be ready for the opening, no doubt.

He stopped painting for a moment and observed the Yale blue streaks swirling and entwining with the other hues on the white wall. Yes, there it was. Perfect. Or as close to perfect as he could get it.

He had been painting for over two hours at this point, and the respirator he was wearing was starting to bother him. It was a protective silicone full face cover, which allowed his delicate lungs not to get in contact with any chemicals and also kept him hidden and anonymous. Reaching under the mask, Michael scratched his stubble.

Earlier that morning, Wayne had eyed him suspiciously when he had stepped out of his room. Michael had said nothing, but knew why his head of security seemed startled. His boss was a bit disheveled, considering his usual appearance. However, what did Wayne expect? That he wore a military jacket and golden cuffs when he was supposed to go unnoticed? Instead, Michael had donned simple black pants and a black hoodie and had put on a pretty plain black bomber jacket. With barely any makeup on, he looked less like the superstar people were used to seeing and more like a guy next door. The perfect mask for what he had planned. Besides, he didn’t feel like pretending, because pretty much nobody was supposed to truly look at him anyway.

Nobody but Lisa.

He had woken up earlier that morning feeling lively and motivated – no longer exhausted as he had been in the previous weeks. He had realized that he was thriving in this new environment and, after spending almost an hour over the phone with the kids, he had left for the Threshold ready to do whatever Jaroslav and Dana needed him to do. Michael genuinely loved to be helpful to people.

And now there he was. Taking a deep breath, he observed his work once again. How long since he had done anything similar? Only one occasion came to his mind and, quite unsurprisingly, Lisa was involved.

Lisa…

He had barely been able to stop thinking about her since he had seen her again. The idea of her being just a few doors away from him, just a floor away from him, made him feel in a way that he thought was long forgotten. Instead, what was back was also the familiar swirling in his belly whenever she was in his orbit. And with that, the intense sexual pull. Of course, he no longer had any intention to commit to her – that ship had long sailed – but his body hadn’t really gotten the memo. She was still beyond desirable. She still was the woman who was more than capable of making him lose his head in bed… or any other setting.

So it was completely unsurprising that she was now part of that memory, reemerging from the most hidden depths of his mind.

As a matter of fact, he had only painted walls once in his adult life, and it had been at Hidden Hills, right after he and Lisa had gotten married. His eyes stared into space and saw what he hadn’t seen in a very long time, because he hadn’t thought about that day in years.

Back then, he and Lisa were already having sex without any protection. Not that he had ever worn a condom with her, given that he trusted her, but since their wedding night she had stopped taking birth control. The reason was simple: they were crazy in love, over the moon and completely high on happiness, and more than ready to start their own family right away. They would make love night and day, everywhere, and didn’t seem capable of keeping their hands off each other. Of course, that day hadn’t been any different.

Strangely enough, all of a sudden Michael remembered how it had all started from that single, apparently trivial detail. Lisa had been painting with him – or trying to, at least – focusing on a tiny corner of the room that she had decided would look great in bright pink. Regardless of the gender of their future baby. And when Michael had turned to look at her at one point, he had noticed that little droplet of pink paint on her cheekbone, right under her eye.

He had put the paintbrush down and had removed his gloves.

“Baby girl…”

Lisa had seemed startled for a moment. Obviously, she was very much engrossed in what she was doing. She had turned her head and looked at him without a word and he had noticed how that little pink drop made her aqua eyes stand out even more.

“Come over here, baby…”

She had immediately recognized the tone. Deep, velvety, sultry. A slight smile had played on her lips before she sauntered over to him.

“Yessir…”

God. He loved her to pieces. And he adored that they could play like that. They had been just so in tune back then. So in sync.

Smiling down at her, he had cleaned up the mess with his thumb. Lisa’s eyes had sparkled – and at that very moment, they had become his North star. All he saw. And so fucking beautiful.

“You’re messy…”

She had giggled.

“That’s my line, you know…” Stepping even closer, she had rested her hands on his chest, rubbing him lovingly. “And yet you always look perfect.”

As did she. His hand had moved, coming to cup her cheek, and he had kissed her. Once, then twice. Then again. And then he had lost count. Drowning in her. Burning at the same time. Incapable of resisting. Going. Gone.

They had forgotten all about paints and shades and patterns and had slid to the floor together, still kissing. They had somehow managed to reach the nearby couch and Michael had picked her up, making her sit there. He had remained on his knees between her open legs. It was a sunny day and she wore an oversized t-shirt that exposed her shoulder, some skimpy panties and nothing else. He had removed the pin from her hair and that low bun had turned into a cascade of silky strands. His fingers had sunk in her hair and he had loved the way it caressed his skin as they kept kissing and kissing. As she took care of him, just pushing down the sweater pants he was wearing. Reaching in, finding him ready for her. Yeah… Wall painting had been entirely forgotten for a few hours as he and Lisa went back to their baby-making business. And he still remembered how much and how intensely they had tried. Vividly, as if it had happened just a minute ago.

Michael sighed and swallowed, his eyes still staring into space. The sound of his own breathing, reverberating inside the mask he was wearing, was all he heard.

He needed a break in so many different ways.

There were just two options. Either Michael had become deaf, or he really was super-committed to what he was doing. Because otherwise, there was no way in hell that he could not sense her presence there.

Lisa stood at the end of the corridor, leaning against the door frame, pretty much unable to move. She had been watching him for almost ten minutes and was mesmerized. There was just something in the way he worked that left her speechless, fascinated. At first she had been tempted to let him know that she was there, but then, other than loving the show, she had also begun to enjoy the idea of not being seen at all. The chance to watch him while she remained undetected.

Her unique perspective gave her a weird, original point of view on what was transpiring just a few feet away from her. And she had to admit that Jaroslav was right: Michael was working hard, and seemed very much committed to what he was doing. Of course, the result was right there to be seen. The paintings on the walls were stunning.

Lisa had no idea of what he had in mind specifically, but knew him enough to guess his train of thoughts. He loved skylines, was fascinated by clouds and could spend hours just staring at the sky changing its colors at the horizon. Over the ocean, or close to the mountains. Disappearing beneath interminable plains, as if swallowed by the ground. Through the years, he had told her several times how the ever-changing hues in the sky were “God’s fingers at work for our visual pleasure”.

She had to smile to herself the very moment Michael’s voice replayed in her mind, as if those words had been spoken yesterday.

It seemed to her that he was depicting the sky at dawn on one side of the corridor, and all the various shades of dusk on the opposite walls. The colored strokes entwined and blended together, creating a kaleidoscope that her eyes could barely grasp in all its intensity. How could he envision anything so complex and articulated was something utterly foreign to her.

But still, somehow Lisa had seen him do something like that before, several years earlier – when he had painted the walls of what they had thought would be their kids’ room at Hidden Hills. The remembrance almost forced her to look away because it was so sharp, so powerful, to nearly cause her to reel back and steady herself. It was all right there, like watching a movie on a screen. The laughter, the relaxed feeling of doing something important, something private that mattered so much to them. The complicity of it all. The fun they had had. And, at one point, the love they had made in that same room – forgetting all about painting those darn walls, and instead trying as best as they could to create that baby they both had wanted so much. Of course, it hadn’t happened, but the feeling was still there. Unmovable, eternal. Like a regret.

For a second, she almost considered leaving Michael there without even announcing herself. She just had to turn around and walk away. Maybe it was best that way. Perhaps they both needed some distance from all this. After all, he was there to work and not to recall experiences and events that, eventually, had turned into dust. Into nothing. Then how was it even possible that those moments still evoked so much in her? So many feelings…

Yeah, perhaps letting him do his thing was the best way to cope with it all.

But then he sensed her. He turned slowly and Lisa saw how his body stiffened all of a sudden, noticing that she had been there for only God knew how long. Michael did not like surprises.

She could barely make out his eyes, given that he was wearing some sort of anti-dust paint respirator that covered pretty much his entire face. His hair was tied in a low, messy bun and, in all frankness, he looked terrific in his all-black attire.

Too late to take cover. She had to stay. She wanted to.

She just shrugged and waved at him from the other end of the corridor and Michael took a deep breath. Then he started walking in her direction slowly. His hand came up and removed his mask.

“Hey.”

He stopped right in front of her.

“Hi, Mike.”

Looking up at him, Lisa scanned his face and noticed that he was sweating. Then, more out of habit than anything, she reached up and touched his face. Her fingers caressed his forehead.

“You’re hot.”

“Thank you.”

She had to laugh, albeit dryly. He knew exactly what she was referring to, but he had nonetheless decided to be a douche.

“You’re welcome. Are you having a break or something?”

He was still staring at her and there was relief on his face. As if he was genuinely happy to see her, as if he couldn’t wait to see her. Just like Jaroslav had told her. What was she supposed to do with that?

“Yeah… Or something…” He observed her remove her hand from his face the very moment she realized how intimate that contact was. Then his gaze moved back to her eyes. “You coming with me?”

Why did everything seem to have a double meaning, some unspoken and yet not even subtle message?

“Sure. Did you get the chance to take a look around yet?”

Michael straightened his stance and grinned down at her.

“Nope. Jaroslav and Dana wanted me to see the place, but I told them that you would be my chaperon.”

Lisa scoffed.

“What a turd burger. You really think I got nothing better to do than show you around?”

“Well, I don’t know, but you just offered. And I’m saying: yes, let’s do this.”

She was unsure if she wanted to flip him off and leave or just laugh at his arrogance. Or maybe kiss him. Either way, she too needed a break from this.