‘What the fuck do you mean?’

Came from the contortion that had shaped Ever’s mouth; he was still seated and still staring. He was not with Lomita’s attempts at encouraging an analytical discussion.

Lomita’s head turned in a questioning movement, at both his tone and choice of word.

‘I mean. There is nothing that hasn’t been said before and probably by him. If every spark has a life and every star burns out, it looks like he was on the way to burning.’

Lomita knew she was on dangerous ground, but she had to express what she felt to be her honest opinion. This man had harboured the belief his father was wronged and maybe he wasn’t.

‘I love them.’

Said Ever, unconvincingly, still staring at the lettering.

There was nothing left for Ever at that moment. No life. No future. Nothing. He felt as if all had left him, that he was responsible: had broken the spirit of his father and mother. That he was all that was wrong. He just wanted to sit. He could do nothing. He never wanted to leave this room because if he did he would have to face it all.

Didn’t anybody understand this?

‘Don’t you understand this?’

He said as if he had been having the conversation with Lomita.

‘Yes.’

She replied, because he had.

‘Do you like any of them?’

Ever said, after a while.

‘Do you mean enough to buy? To live with?’

‘I don’t know, let’s just start with like. At all. Shall we?’

‘I like The Wave. I like the first image of the disappearing woman. I don’t understand writing paintings. Never have.’

‘I do.’

Offered Ever.

‘I think.’

More time passed in a silence; then Ever said,

‘Do you want to go?’

‘If you like?’

Ever was tempted to photograph the exhibition on his phone, but that would encapsulate, what? A memory of sadness, regret – negativity.

Will I never see them again? Are they gone now? Is that it? Back to a warehouse.

Tears were pouring down his face but there was no noise coming from the face. Did no one understand what it was like to be trapped in perpetual doubt and sadness and regret? For even breathing.

Lomita sat and watched and knew.

She knew.

*

This was the moment.

Did those paintings deserve to have never seen the light of day after one exhibition?