Chapter 10: Our saving grace

I wipe my face clean and out in the spare clothes... spare clothes being clothes of Carlos, the top very loose on my body but it covered me so that was fine but the trousers made me look like a clown, they were long and baggy and I could fit two whole fists through the waistband.

POV Carlo

I stand in the centre of the pottery studio trying to hold myself together, my friend working in his own creation completely unaware by what had just happened and of my current condition. I try to hold my hands into a fist and maintain a steady breath, god that woman is seductive, I don't think she even knows it or does it on purpose but that one action sent me into a frenzy.

Without warning, Flos quiet voice is heard from a gap through the bathroom door " Carlo, I might need a bit of help... your trousers don't see me to quit fit me".

I walk towards the door and knock slightly, "I have some rope here if you'd like to use it for a belt?" I say as I go and grab it then bring it back handing to Flo through the gap. Moments later she opens the door looking very sheepish but I thought she looked adorable "my clothes suit you quite well" I say standing there with my arms crossed inspecting her and feeling a sense of possession as my clothes drape over her body.

POV Flo

How am I supposed to leave looking like this.

Carlos looks amused and it causes my face to burn an even brighter shade of red. "If you say so" I reply.

We sit down with a tea and talk for a bit while we wait for my vase to harden. When done, Carlos bring the vase out letting it cool and we get started on painting and glazing it. By the end the vase is an abundance of colours, quite like a meadow. It shows perfectly the journey to which I have taken to come to this point today and each paint stroke a reminder of the person I am, marks made my myself and Carlos, little flowers dotted the vase where Carlos had added his own personal touch. It makes me happy knowing I will have something created by us both, a reminder of today and our time spent together.

Myself and Carlos were able to open up to each to her a lot more, sharing stories of our lives and childhoods. Carlos was was also a lone child, no siblings and only having another, his father had left when he was a baby and he does not know him nor does he care to. His mother lives on the coastal region of Italy in Sorrento where Carlos was also brought up. He talked loving about his mother who showed him a path in art and history, also showering him in love through her cooking. She sounded like the dream mother. He also spoke about his fall in to addiction due to the loss of a friend. Unable to deal with the emotions he turned to the bottle and drank away his sorrows, Marcel had found him one evening sat on a bench drunk in an alleyway and brought him into his home, there Carlo found many pieces of art hung on marcels walls, Carlo said he doesn't remember but Marcel said he had been making something to eat for them both and turned around to find Carlos using marcels paints on the wall, mimicking the night scenery from out of the window, Marcel was in awe as he watched Carlos paint onto the wall, a piece so beautiful that to this day he has kept it there almost as a centre piece of their friendship and the start of Carlo's journey into the professional art world.

From that point on Marcel had been guiding and helping Carlo with his art and out of addiction. I see now what Carlo meant about Marcel being his saving grace, I also feel very indebted towards Marcel, he was the one who brought me here, brought me to Carlos and may also be the one to help me start a journey into the art world.

When the night drew closer, we packed our things and headed out, me in my baggy clothes and a new vase in hand. On our walk back to the hotel I wonder more about Marcel "what's marcels story? I know you've told me about his daughter but what was his childhood like and I presume he had or has a wife?" I ask, "ah yes well, he does have a wife indeed, she was a wonderful woman and they were a very happy family, for a time." Carlos says as he places a hand to rub the side of his face then proceeds, "they lived in the same town as me growing up, I never knew him before till he found me in that alleyway but as our friendship grew, I found out more and more about him and his past. Marcel used to deal in art and he also has a huge passion in collecting it, he's not much of an artist himself but enjoys to paint here and there even if it does look an absolute mess. His daughter didn't care for art, she was more into sports but Marcel loved painting her playing sports and accompanying her to all her competitions and matches be it cricket, football or tennis. Marcels wife is called Anna, she like my own mother was the supportive homemaker, she would cook the lost delicious foods, she was gentle, kind and loving.

When their daughter passed away, Anna went into a very dark place, she did not eat or sleep, she locked herself away in her bedroom and cried all day and night, eventually Marcel had to admit her to a hospital where they diagnosed her with psychosis... she'd started having hallucinations, talking to herself being completely out of reality with the current times and she wouldn't even remember who Marcel was. 2 years of being in a psychiatric ward, she'd been diagnosed with dementia. She's still there now and Marcel visits her twice a month when he can in between his trips and travels for work purposes. She has deteriorated a lot in the past 5 years, her eyes are hallow and she is very weak and pale. I think Marcel tried to busy himself as much as possibly so not to be able to visit her, he finds it very hard seeing her the way she is and it brings a lot of memories back."

As Carlos tells me of marcels story and his life with his family, I am simply lost for words. We end up walking in silence for about 5 minutes. I was socked to hear such a heart wrenching story, Marcel has been through so much and still manages to push through it all while having a bright and cheery smile in his face at all times.

I have a lot of admiration for him.

As we reach the hotel lobby, non other than Marcel is stood by the doors waiting for us with a jolly look.