Page 148 of Crystal Iris
“Art historians gave the name—maybe not the best one. That’s the exciting part: we’re all still learning. This isn’t a realistic painting of a specific location. He mixed what he knewwith what he imagined. Pieter traveled a lot; we know he saw many landscapes, and he probably saw those mountains. It’s argued that Bruegel played with scale on purpose, as a way to depict the human condition itself. We’re locked in life’s day-to-day while also striving for something bigger, even glory.”
I’m on my way out when James stops me.
“Iris?”
I look back, wishing he’d start calling me Professor. “Can I help you?”
“I was wondering if you’ve read theAnalects?”
“Confucius’s Analects?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t say that I have. My focus is on European and American art. Why?”
“I’m researching different takes on supernatural beliefs, for my own writing.”
“Writing?” I ask.
“Yes, I’m into research.”
“Are you writing a paper?”
“No, a nonfiction book,” he answers.
“And Confucius had a take on it? On ghosts?”
“Yes, I believe so—something to do with keeping them at a distance. I wanted to know if you’ve read it, if it’s worth it.”
“Sorry, you should ask Professor Yang. She’s currently teaching Advanced Readings in East Asian Art and Literature.” Something tells me he already knows this.
“Good to know. Thanks anyway.”
“Good luck,” I say, waiting for him to leave first.
Akira wanted to go to Spiral tonight, but I was looking forward to a night at home. By myself. When was the last time I relaxed at home?Next week, I reply to her.
I’m sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, sipping wine, and watching a thriller when I realize I’m finally at peace with myself. Things aren’t all figured out, but I’m happy. I like my life, I like the people in it. I’m happy with my career, my health, my apartment. I’m even proud of what I’ve accomplished. I’m happy in my own skin. Tomorrow, I’ll be ending the longest chapter of my life—Aaron’s chapter—and I’m okay with the unknown. I’m not sure what the future holds, but I’m ready to face it head-on.
Thirty-One
“The position of the artist is humble. He is essentially a channel.” – Piet Mondrian
“You look beautiful,” Aaron says when I come downstairs.
“Thank you.” He’s seen this dress before, I’m sure of it. I debated what to wear, but I knew I needed to put on a proper outfit, or he wouldn’t buy that I was taking this dinner seriously.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
We drive in silence for a while. I’m not recognizing the way the driver is going.
“Aaron, where are you taking me?”
“Do you not trust me anymore?”
Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the marina.
