Read Online Missing Rose (9781101603864) by Serdar Ozkan - Free Book Online

“zero,” for each other, freeing themselves of their separate identities and so rising up into the sky as one.
    The artist’s habit of painting seagulls dated from that day. But for some time now his seagull had grown tired of solo flights and longed for the moment when he would descend toward the sea. Perhaps this wasn’t the right shore for him to do that, yet he still couldn’t leave and continued circling the sky.

    W HEN IT BECAME quite dark, the artist realized that Diana wouldn’t be coming to the seafront that night, either.

16
    H ER DREAMS DIDN’T even let Diana enjoy a half-an-hour afternoon nap. She tried to rid her mind of fragmented scenes of a palace and a rose garden. It was impossible. If she couldn’t get them out of her head, she wished she could at least make sense of them. But that seemed impossible as well.
    She got up and put on her tracksuit and sneakers. Perhaps a short walk in the park or a brief chat with the artist might help.

    T HE OLD BEGGAR, sitting on his mat with the air of a king rather than a beggar, immediately began to count his coins when he saw Diana coming. It was as if he were trying to show that he didn’t intend to notice her today, either. Diana didn’t care. She no longer expected any explanations from him anyway.
    The artist was in his usual place, again busy with his painting.
    â€œWell, how are your colors today?” Diana asked.
    â€œGood. How about yours?”
    â€œOkay, I guess, Senhor . . .”
    â€œJon or Mathias. You choose.”
    â€œYou have two names?”
    â€œKind of a split personality, if you like.”
    â€œHow do you mean?”
    â€œMathias wants to stay in this world and be indulged in it. Whereas Jon wants to fly away.”
    â€œFly where?”
    â€œI don’t know, beyond this world, maybe.”
    â€œOh, I see. Mathias . . . unusual name around here.”
    â€œWell, some people think so,” Mathias said, just as Diana had the last time they talked.
    Diana smiled and turned to look at the painting. Since there was still no seagull in the picture, she could tell that it wasn’t finished. Although she stared at it for some time, she couldn’t think of anything to say about it.
    Her silence and the possibility of her leaving made Mathias uneasy. To get to know her better, not only had he changed his schedule, but for days he’d had to stay in a cheap motel—the kind where the shower runs cold, the toilet doesn’t flush and the bed is lumpy and narrow.
    â€œWell,” Mathias said, “as you can see, I lack inspiration today. I was thinking of going for a coffee at the café over there for a change of scene. Would you care to join me?”
    Diana hesitated, before saying with an air of indifference, “Well, I suppose I could. I need a break to catch my breath anyway.”
    Mathias placed his brush carefully into its slot on the easel. “Let’s go.”

    W HEN THEY GOT closer to the café, he realized it was a much fancier place than he’d initially anticipated or would have wished for . . .

17
    T HEY ARRIVED AT a café with leather-topped tables, torches lit with special lighting effects and copper-coated fire extinguishers in the corners. The kind of place where customers would be eager to pay $25 to drink a cup of coffee and perch on uncomfortable wrought-iron chairs while listening to the hubbub inside. Mathias couldn’t imagine himself coming to this place even if he stayed in Rio for a hundred years. But unfortunately, he’d seen no other café nearby.
    They had hardly sat down at a table by the window when a waiter appeared.
    â€œHow may I help you?”
    After they had sent him off quickly with an order for French vanilla coffee and an espresso, Mathias looked around the room. “What a place for inspiration!”
    â€œMmmm, inspiration,” Diana said. “I used to paint