Deep brown eyes speckled with black flecks stare mischievously. A mass of thick, dark curls surround a flawless face. Scarlet lips curve into a teasing grin. I make my way towards her, secretly finding pleasure in the game she is playing. When I’m close enough to whisper her name, she dashes off, disappearing once again behind one of the numerous displays. I can hear her peals of laughter echo above us, bouncing off the glass and taunting the silence in the museum.
I follow the sound, laughing too, and spot her gazing into the butterfly display in awe. Her face is aglow with wonder as she takes pictures in her mind of the enthralling patterns adorning their wings. I move towards her, captivated, and she turns slowly, her eyes alight when she sees me. My heart beat stutters as I wonder once again why she chose me. She embraces me, her perfume staying a few seconds longer than her, kisses me lightly on the cheek, and is off once more, her heart set on devouring every detail possible.
Amber and I met thirty eight months ago at an art exhibition in the city. You could say it was one of those right-place-right-time kind of moments. I was one of seven struggling artists attempting to get my sneaker through the door, and make my entrance into the magical world of paint and canvasses. When I first noticed her, she was clothed in a tie-dye dress cinched at the waist and leather sandals, and appeared to glide effortlessly across the room. After about twenty minutes she reached me, and I held out my already sweaty palm and introduced myself, but she just laughed musically, grabbed a brochure and said “Amber’s the name”.
A few days later, while rushing to my studio in the blistering Durban heat, someone sidled up next to me with a bright green umbrella. I turned around in surprise, and to my utter disbelief it was the colourful girl from the exhibition. She smiled at me from under her dark lashes, and we walked together in comfortable silence, neither of us needing to say a word. My studio was spilling with my canvasses, each one bearing colours so proud that they almost screamed out for attention. Amber moved around as if she were in a daydream, her eyes glistening in appreciation as she absorbed every pattern and hue. Then without warning she spun around and asked me if I would be interested in having coffee with her in the afternoon.
When I arrived at the lesser-known coffee shop she had chosen, she was already seated and waiting for me. She peeked at me coyly from behind the worn-out brown menu, and began giggling when I raised an eyebrow. As nervous as I was I somehow managed to ask her more about herself, and when she twirled her hair and began talking I knew there was no going back. This was the beginning of a marvellous adventure.
We were now in Rome with its buildings drenched in history, whispering long-forgotten secrets, and the air brimming with romance. Tonight I planned on asking Amber to marry me. Although I was trembling with anxiety, I managed to organise a secluded table, drenched in candlelight, in a little restaurant tucked away in the corner of town that I knew Amber would be crazy about. Despite my growing exhilaration, bordering on delirium, I nonetheless kept space for a little bit of dread because unpredictable Amber might just find the idea of being married as unappealing.
When she walked into the dimly lit restaurant she exuded radiance. Her shimmery, sleeveless apricot-coloured dress scattered with tiny sunflowers caught the light of the candles and she glowed like embers. We ordered champagne, and before the waiter had even disappeared into the kitchen adrenaline kicks in, completely disregarding my well-thought-out plan for tonight, and I get down on one knee with the ring in my hand and hope shining in my eyes. Amber’s eyes widen and register surprise, but she flashes me a reassuring smile. “Amber, I love you,” I say, “Will you marry me?” I gaze at her striking features, smiling like a fool, but I’m sure my eyes betray my fear of unrequited love. Amber leans forward, looking into my eyes, kisses me softly, and says “I love you”, then takes the ring and pirouettes out of the restaurant. I sigh in absolute relief and contentment because I know that I have finally captured my wild beauty.
