An Exhibition?

Christopher saw Anna, in Gertrude Street. The sun was shining. The sky was blue. Bikes flashed by. People drank coffee and beer, in seats under the trees. She's back from Europe, apparently? He knew that she was going. It seemed to have gone really fast.

"I've been travelling and painting. Drawing. Looking for good light and experimenting with photography." She looked hot. Wild hair. Mini skirt. "What have you been doing?"

"You know, the usual."

"No, I don't, actually." Anna laughed, like chiming bells. He'd never seen her so relaxed. "What is the usual? I don't know."

"You look great." She did.

"Thanks." she said.

"How's Ethan?"

"He's good, on a very short leash, at the moment." She laughed, as if recalling some distant memory. "He's been busking with his sax. You know how he looks?"

Indeed, Christopher did.

"They love him. The girls, go nuts for him." Anna laughed. "I got him to wear less and his takings went up." She looked away. "I mean, I was just amazed I got him working. But then I discovered so was something else... um, working." She looked away. She looked back.

What could Christopher say? He raised his eye brows, instead.

"I found him in a jacuzzi with a cocktail waitress. He freaked out when I got my camera out and started taking photos." She laughed. "They were great shots." She laughed again. "The cocktail waitress went spare.

Suitably horrified look on his face. "Is he with you?" Trying not to laugh, but then laughing anyway.

"No, fuck him." She looked away. "I left him in Europe." She looked back, her eyes flashed. "That wasn't to say I wasn't cross." She grabbed Christopher by the shirt front and whispered, broken hearted. She pulled away. "So, Sorry!" Big eyes, shallow breaths. "Would be a good word to describe Ethan's current state of health." She fanned her face with her fingers

"You all right?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "I'm fine, really."

"That's good to hear," Christopher said.

"You promised to marry me, if he ever dumped me?"

"Sure," said Christopher, more quickly than he cared to, really. She did still remember it was a joke?

"You and me?" She stopped fanning. "Don't make me laugh."

He'd never seen her look more beautiful.

"So, what have you been doing?"

She's been doing a series of paintings called, Bob's Your Uncle.

"I saw him, Uncle Bob, at my grandma's funeral. He looked nervous when he saw me." She smiled. "That's what prompted me to exorcise my Bob demons through paint. Oils. Thick. Just like him." She laughed nervously. "So I did. I've got an exhibition in Berlin. It's rabid revenge. All dark and full of murder. Lot's of blood and figures with big hands." She laughed. "There's a drowning."

Apparently, that's what he used to do, take her out into really deep water where she'd have to cling onto him. Her mother would be waving from the beach, marveling at how good her unmarried brother was with her little girl.

Anna took a cigarette out of her bag and lit it, blowing smoke luxuriously into the air.

"And as far as Mr Ethan is concerned, we left it that if he met up with me in Berlin, then fine, but it is by my rules." She held his gaze and kind of clicked her jaw and blew a smoke ring. "If he doesn't show, I'll understand why." She looked away.

Silence.

Then she smiled and did that little head wiggle that always meant every thing will work out fine. "So, I'll catch up with him there," said Anna. "I'm heading back via Russia."