The Black Onyx Pact (16 page)

Sibylle swallows the last bite, motions her to wait, drinks some water and turns to look at her with a smile.

«Actually I am determined to have him back, Amelie.»

The old lady sighs and shakes her head.

«Sibylline, dea
w
, a
w
e you su
w
e?» starts saying gravely. «You want him because you
w
eally love him o
w
just because you don't accept the loneliness? You don't have to p
w
ove anything to you
w
self no
w
to othe
w
s. You dese
w
ve a man who can make you vib
w
ate in his st
w
ong a
w
ms. Think about it, dea
w
, because often what we want
—
what we think we need
—
is not what will make us happy. Choose the one with whom you don't need to seek happiness. Choose the one with whom you feel happy fo
w
no
w
eason, Sibylline. See you late
w
, dea
w
.»

He kisses her cheek and leaves.

«Amelie?» calls Sibylle.

The old woman turns to look at her waiting in a graceful ballet position: the c
roisé derrière
.

«How can I tell if I'm making the right choice?» asks Sibylle confused.

The feathered lady smiles warmly.

«If when you'
w
e with him you feel that you miss nothing, then you a
w
e doing the
w
ight thing. If othe
w
wise you feel you a
w
e missing something then
w
un to that thing, because that's you
w
destiny!»
Amelie walks away, and Jaqueline come close to Sibylle again.

«What did the rainbow ostrich wanted?»

«Hey, be nice. Amelie was my mother's best friend, and right now she helped me to better understand what I need.»

«That stoned old lady?»

«She is very sweet and she is fond of me, so please be less offensive, okay?»

«Come on, look at her, with those ridiculous feathers glued onto that loose skin. Of course you feel that mutual sympathy: you both are fashion criminals!»

«She wants to buy my painting.»

Jaqueline raises her eyebrows then heads toward Amelie.

«My dear! Oh, look at you, Amelie, with those magnificent feathers! You are divine, my love, simply divine! What a touch of style, what an artist you are! Let me see you. Oh, you are beautiful!»

Sibylle shakes her head, amused and disgusted at the same time. She could never do the job of public relations.

«Sibylle, what a surprise. I thought you were dead.»

Sibylle turns to look at the woman who talked. It's a beautiful woman with brown hair, hazel eyes and an asymmetric bob haircut. She is wearing an elegant black dress and a long necklace made of transparent stones. Sibylle smiles.

«Greta, nice to see you too. I expected to see you more intelligent. Damn, it seems we disappointed each other.»

The woman looks at her with disdain, bringing to her red lips the crystal goblet in which the champagne is fizzing.

«I admire your courage, you know? I'm not talking about the courage of getting out of depression after the failure of your marriage, but about the courage of coming to an important event like this one bringing just a single plain painting.»

Sibylle smiles sweetly.

«This is your personal opinion which has no value apart in your own universe. And I didn't fail, my marriage failed, not me. A person doesn't fail: a person can do wrong, can fall, can surrender, can gets depressed, but doesn't fail if returns to live. Is like saying a phoenix can die. It never dies, it does only apparently, but then it rises from the ashes more glorious than before.»

«Nice. Did you learn this crap from those absurd books you read? Cute. And tell me, do you often repeat this nonsense to yourself before falling back into depression?»

«Absolutely, every moment of my life. Just to avoid becoming a frigging egotistic like you.»

Greta mocks a laugh.

«Oh! Our precious Taoist painter who verbally attacks another person because she cannot control her emotions!»

Sibylle take a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and drinks it in three quick gulps, looking back at the woman.

«Emotions should never be suppressed, you idiot. You must accepted them as they are and adapt yourself to them.»

«You are boring as person as you are talentless as painter. It's not just me, my dear, is the opinion of all those with whom I have talked. And I talk to many people. Why don't you accept your mediocrity and quit painting?»

Sibylle takes another goblet of champagne from a maid in saree and drinks also this one in a few sips, uttering a satisfied sound.

«Those pastries made me thirsty.» she observes, almost talking to herself. Then, looking at Greta: «Sorry I cannot quit, because I don't create for the people, I create for myself. Besides I create out of gratitude and love. Gratitude toward the inspiration that gave me the gift to take the images enclosed in my mind and give them life making them real. Love toward the world, because I don't create for today or for tomorrow, I create for ever. You see, Greta, you are a beautiful balcony flower, which is always well-kept and beautiful to see, a pleasure for the eyes; but its roots are restricted in a pot and in order to survive must have someone who takes care of it. Me, I am an almond tree in a field. What I create
—
my fruits
—
I create them because it is my nature to do so. Yes, it is true, I am prey of the changes: if it rains too much or too little my fruits won't be good, but my roots will always be sunk deep into the ground. There will be the time in which I'll give new fruits, there will be the time in which all my leaves will fall, and then there will be the time in which I'll sprout again. I'll wilt, I'll bloom, I accept it, is the natural cycle of life. I abandon myself to it and in this way I'll never have to worry about anything. And I don't regret anything, because everything I do is out of love. And those who act out of love become immortals.»

Greta purses her lips, not knowing what to reply. That's strange since she always has a ready answer.

«You are a successful woman, Greta, because everyone likes you. I'm happy for you, really, believe me.» she says amicably, brushing Greta's bare arm. «But do you respect what you are, do you respect your art? Your hands create what you want, what you feel inside, or do they create on behalf of other minds? When you finish your painting you look at it and feel the desire to hug it, to tell it that it is the son you so long wanted and that you will love it forever no matter what? Do you just paint or do you give life to your creations? You know, dear, you better plant out in a field, because when you depend on someone you'll wither irremediably.»

Greta's lips quiver and she turns to leave but Sibylle holds her by the arm.

«No, please, don't cry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.» says Sibylle mortified.

Greta smiles, shaking her head.

«You didn't hurt me, Sibylle, you just... awakened me. Thank you. And now excuse me, I need to be on my own.»

She lets her go and presses her own lips, upset because she doesn't understand when it's time to shut
—
Claude!

The man has just entered the room full of people. Her heart starts pounding. He is so handsome dressed in that blue suit! As is beautiful the blonde woman dressed in a red dress with him...

She takes the courage to approach him. Makes her way through the people and arrives behind him.

«C
—
Claude?»

He turns to look at her, not even betraying a sparkle of emotion.

«Sibylle.» he says passionless.

«Oh, I'm glad you accepted my invitation!»

«I haven't even opened your invitation. I'm here because Jaqueline told me about an amazing sculptor and I wanted to see his creations, I am interested for my new office. By the way, this is Cherie, my new secretary.»
Sibylle shakes her hand smiling while the blonde lady remains unemotional, then apologizes and walks away, leaving them alone. Sibylle looks at Claude raising an eyebrow:

«Cherie?» she asks.

«It's her real name, so spare me your stupid comments, please.»

«I would never deride her or something, you should know I'm not like that, I was just curious. She is beautiful.»

«Of course she is. My company has a certain prestige, I have to take care of every aspect, even the aesthetic. I cannot show myself around with a woman dressed in a awkward way.»

Sibylle smiles, understanding the indirect rebuff.

«Like one dressed in a mechanic overall, for example?»

«Exactly.»

Sibylle looks away for a moment.

«You know, Claude, under this rough suit there is a new woman. I am more confident now, I'm more uninhibited. Things have happened and I found my femininity again and I'd like to spend just one more night with you, Claude.»

The man looks at her for a long time.

«Don't tell me you fucked?»

She lowers her gaze and he looks around, smiling incredulously.

«What a slut!» he murmurs. «Nice. You let a stranger fuck you while to your husband you denied even a handjob!»

«I've never denied anything to you, Claude. It's you that avoided me.»

«I had my reasons.»

«Look, I just want to have the opportunity to be part of your life again.»

«Why should I accept? I don't miss you, Bille, I don't miss anything about you.»

«You don't miss the old me, but I could surprise you and you may want me back.»

«Listen», he starts to say with barely controlled anger, «why should I accept your offer? If it's about pussy I can get all that I want, and more beautiful than the meaty stuff you got between your legs.»

Sibylle smiles, surprising him.

«That's just your personal taste, Claude, your disgust doesn't hurt me anymore. I know I'm beautiful and I know I have an inviting pussy. I am beautiful down there as I'm beautiful inside. It's your own problem if you can't see beyond my overall.»

«Yeah, whatever. And take off that wedding ring, you are ridiculous! You fuck with others and you keep wearing a sign of fidelity!»

«I haven't given up with you, Claude. I will take it off when I'll feel I belong to someone else.»

«Claude, dear!» Jaqueline says with a huge smile.

She takes him to the sculptor, leaving Sibylle alone.

“He is so handsome and so unreachable”
, thinks Sibylle.

She sighs and goes to admire the works of art of other artists, exchanging ideas with their creators. She talks with several people who compliment her on the evening and on her painting. She is really glad to be able to express what she has inside again.

Around midnight the Gallery is at the peak of its vitality, with hundreds of people swarming the rooms and corridors, in a mixture of relaxation and excitement, laughter and seriousness. She likes that atmosphere so rich in creativity, she loves to see people who are really interested in art. She missed that feeling, for which all the most creative minds converge naturally.

Meanwhile, outside, Drakkar arrives with his black sport motorbike. He dismounts, removes his helmet and goes to the door holding a plastic bag with an elegant black suit wrapped inside. He shows the invitation at the door men and enters, heading straight into the bathroom to change his clothes.

A few minutes later, Guillaume, Sibylle's father, also arrives at the Gallery. The man enters the Gallery and immediately takes a crystal cup, smiling and looking around. He looks so fine dressed in an elegant silver suit. He drinks looking for his daughter but his smile fades as he sees Claude at the buffet. He clenches his jaw, leaves the cup on the tray of a waiter passing by and goes to him. When Claude notices the man beside him he flinches. He has always feared the ex father-in-law, for this reason he asked Sibylle to keep him out of her life.

«Guillaume?» says Claude shocked.

«Claude.» says Guillaume scarily calm.

«So you and Sibylle are reconciled, I suppose.» asks Claude trying to hide his uneasiness.

«Yep, that's right. Now that the infected part has been cut off the body is healed.»

Claude flares his nostrils.

«I wouldn't be so arrogant if I were you, Guillaume, I would like to remind you that between you and me, your daughter chose me.»

«And she did the right thing, not because you are better than me, but because between her husband and her father it was the logical thing to do. I would have been amazed of the contrary. Of course, I would never put her in the condition to make such a painful choice; but I am a sane man who loves his daughter, not an insensitive asshole who enjoys on degrading those who he says he loves.»