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We head toward the Egyptian exhibit, and I try to stay engaged in the conversation, but my mind keeps drifting back to the airplane incident. The museum’s beauty and the artistry on display do provide some solace, but the memories of that traumatic experience persist. Maddie’s here, though, and I want to grab her hand, but I’m not sure if it would be appropriate.
The Egyptian collection is fascinating. A large stone sphinx stands guard at its entrance. The Great Sphinx of Tanis, according to the sign in front of it.
I remember learning about the legend of the sphinx in my world history class in high school. They stood guard in front of important buildings in Ancient Egypt, such as temples. I remember reading about the myth of Oedipus, who had to answer a riddle from the sphinx when he first entered the city of Thebes. If he got the answer wrong, the sphinx would kill and devour him. Luckily, he got it right.
I’m in no danger, of course, of being eaten by this sphinx, but it does seem to present a riddle that I need to untangle. What was I put on this planet to do? Certainly more than just fuck every good-looking woman that spares me a passing glance. Maybe even more than working with my father on the financial side of our business.
After Egypt, we head to some of the most famous exhibits in the Louvre, including the Venus de Milo and the Winged Victory.
The Venus de Milo is captured in marble, and her arms are famously missing. As I gaze at her beautifully sculpted face, I find myself oddly empathetic. The Venus de Milo, without her arms, exudes an air of quiet strength, acceptance, and resilience. She stands here, imperfect yet still captivating, just as I must find a way to stand tall despite the imperfections and trauma that have marked my life.
My life that has been pretty close to perfect up to recent events.
I must learn to embrace my own vulnerabilities and accept that life can be both beautiful and fragile, just like this sculpture. And though my trauma may have left me feeling broken, the statue’s silent strength serves as a reminder that I too can find my own inner strength and move forward from the shadows of my recent ordeal. Art, as it should, offers a path toward healing and renewal.
Nice idea, anyway.
I take a deep breath, grateful for this moment of introspection but not convinced anything will change inside me.
Until we get to the Winged Victory of Samothrace.
Though headless, the sculpture’s presence is commanding. She’s a symbol of triumph, her wings outstretched, as if embracing wind and soaring above adversity. After the brush with death, I’ve felt wounded, battling my own fears and anxieties.
I’m lost in my own thoughts as the other three chat about the art. Still I stare at the statue. Her graceful form seems to defy gravity, just as I strive to defy the weight of my own trauma.
Maybe art does have healing power. I do feel a little better.
“You feeling okay?” Brock asks me as we leave the museum.
I look over at Maddie. She, all at once, contains the grace and beauty of the Venus de Milo, the stoic and striking stature of the Winged Victory, and a touch of the mystery like the Mona Lisa.
She’s a work of art that rivals any other piece in this museum.
And just like the art in this museum has offered me some comfort, so does she.
“Yeah,” I say. “I am.”
Chapter Ten
Maddie
Bright Parisian sunlight greets us when we leave the Louvre.
My stomach lets out a growl, and I find to my surprise that I’m famished. “Can we grab a bite?” I ask.
A moment later, a cozy sidewalk café greets us. It’s a brisk day in February, so we stop to see if we can get a table inside. A host greets us and leads us to a table inside covered in a crisp white tablecloth. Surrounding each table are wrought-iron chairs with intricate patterns, and flowers adorn the windowsills, adding a splash of color to the elegant, vintage decor. Adding to the ambience is the window next to us. The view outside of the Parisian street is filled with people strolling by, some carrying baguettes or walking their dogs.
Brianna smiles as she picks up her menu. “I wish we had all day to spend at the Louvre. I could look at art for hours and hours.”
Brock peeks out from his menu. “I saw what I needed to see.”
I’m not sure what to say. I loved looking at the art, but a whole day? That might be too much for me. I look over at Dave, who’s also perusing the menu. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
He clears his throat. “I did. It made me think about some stuff.”
“About what?” I ask.
“Just about life in general.” He sticks his nose back into the menu.
