Page 96 of Rivals
“I’m not sure. Maybe we should get a few sizes, and then we can decide. Then we can return the rest later?” He chuckles and grabs the container with the gel in it.
“We will figure it out, and we have time. Not much, but we have some. Inspiration could come to us while we’re on the other tours.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I mumble. I’m frustrated, but I know sometimes you have to be patient for the muse. She will make herself known when the time is right.
***
Today is one of the tours I’ve been the most excited for. We will get to see the places that inspired our winning paintings. I know they will be even better in person. The first stop is Coranaro Chapel, and it’s stunning; there are no other words. I mean, it’s all breathtaking. The fact it’s been looked after for three hundred years and is still close to its original state is impressive. The chapel itself is not very large above the altar of St. Theresa in ecstasy.
Pictures don’t do her expression justice. It’s a cross between agony and pleasure. It’s almost off-putting, but the more you look at it, the more compelling it is. The stonework around it frames it and creates a beautiful depth. I look at the angel Cupid-like doll, and it’s a little unsettling. The expression seems happy, but it’s also kind of creepy.
“The fact that this is all marble is unbelievable,” Lachlan says. I crook my eyebrow to ask him why. “Marble is really brittle by nature, but the details and the way her robes fold and the clouds carved is what makes it so damn breathtaking. They say God came to her through a vision, and the Spirit pierced her with a flaming arrow.”
“Huh,” I mumble.
“I know, it’s...out there. But, it makes you wonder.” He gives me a knowing look. I would like to say I don’t know what he’s getting at, but I do. Both of us have heard the voice. I thought it was the drugs. It was the most likely conclusion, but maybe…it’s more. I shake my head and follow Lachlan around the perimeter of the chapel. There are reliefs of saints and witnesses to this event. They all almost angle towards the center where the central piece sits, as if they are watching in awe.
Our next stop is the San Carlo Alle Quattro. Another source of inspiration for Lachlan and me is based on the elegant architecture and the unusual shape of the chapel. It’s a small space but beautifully balanced with unique niches and small cut-outs. The oval dome is what takes my breath away. It’s not as fantastic as maybe the Sistine Chapel or St. Peter’s Basilica. But something about its size and its stature comforts me. The moment I stepped through the doors, it felt warm and peaceful. I think maybe that was the point. Lachlan stares up at the oval dome. “It’s something, isn’t it? The coffers are so interesting. I wonder why he chose those specific shapes.”
“I don’t know, but it’s balanced beautifully,” I say, looking up with him.
We continue to look around, and though the space isn’t big, there’s still so much detail to see. It’s exciting to see these places with my own eyes. “It’s not a lot because it’s so small, but wow,” Lachlan says as we exit.
“Something about it has always seemed peaceful to me. I get the same feeling now that I’ve stood in it.”
“Maybe it means this is all meant to be.”
I shoot him a look. I don’t know what that means, but I don’t ask. We are moving on to the cathedral that I’ve been chomping at the bit to get to. I haven’t been this excited about something in a long time. It’s a good feeling to live in the moment and see the beauty of what creativity and art can do. It not only instills awe, but it speaks to the soul. It feeds the ravenous brute within and centers it. I think humans were created to love things like this, to recognize beauty. Human hands may have made it, but the creativity always feels otherworldly, like it doesn’t belong on Earth.
After the chapel, we head to the Church of the Gesú. I’m nearly breathless as we walk through the front doors. It’s the largest of the chapels we have been in. As we step through the entry, my head tips back in awe. I am well and truly speechless. My head stays tipped back as Lachlan urges me forward, his lower hand at my back. A tear slips from my eyes, and Lachlan wipes it away. I didn’t realize he was even looking. It is a baroque masterpiece created at the height of the High Renaissance. “Everything about it is ahead of its time. The foreshortening, the shadowing, the way the light is distributed,” I say to Lachlan in awe. He doesn’t say anything, and I drop my head, figuring he just walked away. But instead of looking at the three-hundred-year-old fresco, he’s looking atme.
“Why are you looking at me? Look at that!” I say, pointing up. He stares at me a moment longer with amusement all over his face, then tilts his head up. His jaw drops, and his eyes widen. Now,I’mlooking at him instead of one of my favorite pieces of artwork in the world.
“Wow,” he says in total awe. I tilt my head back up to try to take it all in.
“I know,” I whisper.
“I think I see it now.”
“See what?” I ask, looking around the barrel, wondering what he’s looking at.
“I can see why you are so inspired by this. It makes you feel small, but yet it makes you feel like you’reinit, floating with them.”
“Something about it speaks to me, and now physically seeing it…” I can’t find the words to explain. I continue to look up and ignore the crook in my neck.
“I think it’s starting to speak to me, too.” I drop my head again and look at him while his is still tilted back. I reach for his hand; I feel like I need to touch him in this moment. I feel like he understands me even more now, even though it feels like we have known each other our entire lives.
His head drops, and he smiles at me, leading the way to the other sections of the church. We spend hours there, combing over every detail of the beautiful space. “I think I could spend another hour in here, but I think they are closing,” Lachlan says, pointing to someone wearing a suit and gesturing for people to exit. I frown, wishing we had more time, but I’m not sure that we will ever come back. But then again, we tossed a coin in the fountain. Maybe we will.
The sun has long set as we leave the large church, and an Italian night is in full swing. I spot a gelato place across the street and tug Lachlan towards it. “I want to try Italian gelato.”
“Have you never been to Jersey?”
“Um, no, not really.”
“Oh, well, there are a ton of Italians there. They make incredible gelato. They claim it tastes like it does here; I guess we are about to find out.” We go past a small family and a little boy dancing while eating his gelato. The woman, who I assume is his mother, calls for him and wipes his face before he resumes dancing. They lookhappy.
An arrow goes through my heart as I think about my mother. Would we ever have had the chance to be happy if she kept me? We may not have been in Italy eating gelato, but maybe we got a tub of ice cream from the grocery store, and she’d put it in a cone for me. That would have made me happy. I turn away and follow Lachlan into the little shop.
