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“No, it isn’t. We met in New Orleans during Mardi Gras.”
“No, that was our third meeting.” I laugh softly with a shake of my head. “We met here first. You were here with Mysti and Becky. It was a day trip from when you were staying in Paris. You approached me and asked what I thought was my favorite painting of Van Gogh’s. I said it wasGarden With Courting Couples.”
“I did?” She raises an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Yes, and when you asked me why I said that, it was because I always like to imagine that the couples in the paintings had a secret fetish for fucking outdoors and that Van Gogh happened to catch them after a particularly dirty romp. You laughed at my answer and asked if I like it outdoors.”
“Yeah, that sounds like me,” Percy says with a small laugh of her own.
“That’s when you took me to one of the bathrooms and you sucked my cock for the first time.”
“Yeah, that sounds like me, too.”
She turns away from me to look at the aforementioned painting before us. Percy’s eyes look over the masterpiece as if seeing a former lover whose return is unexpected but welcome.
“Bet you don’t know my favorite painting of his,” she taunts.
“I bet you that I do,” I counter with a grin.
I take Percy by the hand and lead her deeper into the museum.
I see the wheels start to turn bit by bit in her mind. It’s as if she is slowly remembering events of our past like the sun rising over the crest of the horizon.
All I have to do is wait for the dawn.
I lead Percy toStarry, Starry Night.
Normally the piece is housed in New York’s Museum of Modern Art—and has been a permanent fixture of their collection since 1941—but it has been loaned to the Van Gogh museum for a summer exhibition. Again, all courtesy of yours truly.
“This is your favorite. Has been since you were a little girl. You told me your parents took you the museum in New York one summer and you fell in love with it right away. ThatStarry, Starry Nightis responsible for your love of post-impressionism art.”
“I’ve never told anyone that,” she says with surprise.
“Nobody except me. Though, admittedly, you only told me this last night when we were here.”
“Wait, we were here last night?”
“Yes, we were. I knew you were a fan of Van Gogh so I had us here after hours so you could see the painting. That’s when you told me that story about your parents. It’s also when you kissed me and told me that you loved me.”
Percy’s lips part in surprise and uncertainty. Her eyes turn away from me to Van Gogh’s famous painting.
I can almost see the light bulb in her brain turn on.
She remembers now. She remember us here last night and everything that had followed after.
Finally, dawn has come.
