Regeneration X Read Free

before . Now, not only could she appreciate the art, she was thrown into moments where she could observe Michael too. And strange as it may seem, to realize, it was probably completely normal. Much like art, Michael was valuable to her and vice versa, but often they overlooked one another’s presence. They were fortunate to be together still, but each was rather like a piece in the collection, propped up and barely recognized; and they passed each other by, daily.
    Although Michael had not remarked on the new gallery, he seemed to enjoy the results. She knew if he hadn’t approved he would have surely said, especially in this case. Generally, Michael’s opinion could be judged by his actions anyway. Now he would quite often lean on an opposite wall, arms folded, deep in contemplation over one of the pieces they had collected; where before, he’d valued each piece in passing.
    Seeing all the artwork together was gratifying in itself, they had quite a montage. Still, Michael was usually engaged by one or two pieces in particular: a photo-realistic, pen and ink drawing of a young boy sitting on a stoop in solemnity. The boy’s faithful dog sat next to him, with his head sympathetically resting in the boy’s lap. The drawing was detailed and fine; sad and mysterious, but charming. The other piece was a small, roughly welded and mildly rusty rebar and scrap metal sculpture of Jesus’ crucifixion. Michael wasn’t devout per se; however, this particular sculpture was provocative. The depiction was self-explanatory, but the composition lent much to its interpretation. Charley could understand why he was repeatedly drawn to both pieces. The drawing of the boy and the dog were personal for Michael, but she felt it was universally heartwarming, as well. The sculpture with its rough-material simplicity was more complex. It was as if the metal, too, had lived a former life and fulfilled its purpose, and now it was laid out beaten and unrecognizable, nailed up for the world to reject or receive.
    When Charley happened upon him thus, she crept to an open doorway or back to the top of the stairs, out of sight—not covertly, just quietly enough not to disturb his reveries. For her, his pensive manner inspired bittersweet thoughts of solitude, lost love, and longing. These ideas confused her. They were the best of friends; she didn’t think she wanted anything to change between them. Life was predictable … comfortable. Besides, they had earned it, hadn’t they? But every time, it was the same. And strangely, rather than actually feeling those would-be emotions, they were just disconnected words which popped to mind as she stood there—except solitude, she felt alone often. She wondered if he spied on her in the same way, but doubted it.
    Why lost love? We are together. And why longing? We have everything we need; we have each other. She trusted no one else in the world more. What perplexed her was that Michael was perfect: intelligent, driven, and hardworking; attractive, kind, and even-tempered; and his sense of humor was just her type, dry and spontaneous. If this wasn’t enough, he was the better cook. If there were a balance comparing the two of them, the scale would have tipped decidedly in his favor, every time.
    “This piece of the boy and dog, it’s hard to believe we found it at a garage sale. What did we pay, near ten dollars? You couldn’t appreciate it in the hideous frame and it was worth it to get it restored,” Michael’s voice said tunneling down the hallway one evening.  
    He continued as he came down the stairs, “it’s one of my favorite pieces now, it reminds me of my dog Sailor growing up, when his buddy and mine , Luca, crossed the bridge.”
    “I agree it was a find.” She already knew why he liked it and now that the bedroom was organized, she needed another distraction. “The hall gets good light during the day, but the overhead light isn’t great otherwise. I was thinking of supplementing