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“A very expensive, but adept live-in nanny,” he admits, his voice deadpan.
“I’ll remember that if I ever have kids. I’ll meet you all at eleven a.m.”
“See you soon, Andries.”
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. The Van Gogh Museum is much, much different from I thought it would be. Outside, the enormous building is a circular layout split in half; one part stone, the other glass. It’s attached to a more traditional-looking building, but the glass-and-stone motif remains.
Alex, Petra, and their children are waiting for me outside while other patrons flow around us like water. I pause when I see them, feeling the slightest pang of envy in my gut. They look so content, happy, and in love. As if the trappings of our excessive lifestyles have left Alex and Petra behind, and there is nothing left but the happiness their little family unit brings. Alex shakes my hand robustly. Petra gives me a quick embrace, and then the two of them introduce me to their children. The twins are in a double stroller, dressed in warm, puffy jumpers that squish their little cheeks up when they look around.
Their son, Jasper, is the larger of the two babies, and when I kneel down to speak to him, he just looks at me with enormous, round blue eyes. It’s as if he’s considering my every move and who I could possibly be.
Jasmine, the smaller twin, is not nearly as contained. She babbles loudly as I speak to her, grabbing at the collar of my shirt when I lean toward to give her soft, wispy hair a tussle.
The two babies are the perfect mix of Alex and Petra, and even though babies aren’t my thing at this point in my life, these two were gracious enough to squeeze anyone's heart.
Petra pries Jasmine's hand off my shirt, laughing apologetically. “Leave your cousin alone, Jas,” she scolds gently, to which the little girl howls in response.
Petra kisses Jasmine’s face, and then Jasper’s before standing back up, huffing but smiling. “Let’s get inside before these two cause any more trouble.”
I, like most people, know a passing amount about Vincent Van Gogh, but as soon as we step into the museum I know I’m going to leave today much more educated about the man and his life.
Entire rooms are dedicated to single paintings, with huge projections of them spread across the walls and floors wherever we move. Each room is its own painting, making it an immersive experience, and the perfectly coordinated music is the final touch to make it an exquisite display. I’m immediately impressed, but it’s nothing compared to my aunt, who is absolutely agog. Alex smiles indulgently as we walk, and Petra is busy giving us a complex explanation and history of each painting and the meaning behind it. My uncle must be smug, seeing how much of a win this trip is for his wife.
I wish I had the chance to make someone that happy.
Eventually, Petra wants to linger at singular paintings, and Alex lets her know that he and I are going to peel off and explore a little on our own. We leave the twins with Petra, but they’re so enamored by the lights and sounds that I’m sure they won’t even know that their father has left.
“You have a beautiful family,” I tell Alex, shoving my hands into my pockets as we walk.
“I do,” he agrees. “It was hard to win it, mine and Petra’s marriage, but now I can look at it and see the beauty too. Petra always knew, though. She always saw it that way.”
“Seeing the two of you and comparing it to the way the story about the two of you is told throughout the family, really puts into perspective how much people will lie to get you to believe their point of view,” I tell him.
Alex chuckles. “Well, she is quite a bit younger than me. I can see why some might not approve, but honestly, it’s no one's business but our own.”
We stop and take in theStarry Nightexhibit, faces and bodies washed in blues, greens, and yellows as we move through the projections. “You and Dad were always good friends, though, right? He never had anything to say about you and Petra, really. If anything, it was mostly Mom.”
“Tell me, Andries, you have a sister who is close to your age. Do you think she will still want to mettle in your business in fifteen years?”
I consider Elise, and snort. “Yes, absolutely.”
“And there you see why my sister was so up in arms about whatever I was up to. But to answer your question; yes, Sebastian and I have been friends for a long time.” He slides a glance over to me, and I know where the conversation is going in a snap. I want to kick myself for leading him right into it. “Your relationship with him is rather strained though, am I right?”
I scoff. “That’s an understatement.”
“It isn’t worth holding a grudge over. You don’t have to take my advice—” He holds up his hands when I start to protest. “But people don’t live forever. You should make things right with Sebastian if you can.”
“Why should I be the one taking the first step?” I ask, trying my best not to be too aggressive. “He’s the one who called my ex a whore.”
“I know, and that’s what I told him,” Alex says it so matter-of-factly, and I’m genuinely surprised he’d say that to my dad. “But his pride is blinding him, so maybe—just maybe—try talking to him. With the arrest of his best employee, giving him a word can go a long way.”
“Is it possible you’re saying this because he’s your friend, not because you think it’s actually what I need to do?”
He hesitates, considering his next words carefully. “My wife had a very strained relationship with her dad for a long time. As someone standing on the outside, I could see what they couldn’t,and how if they had mended fences earlier, it would have saved them both some grief.” Alex looks to me to make sure I’m paying attention. “Missing his daughter probably took years off Roy’s life. I know he regrets the two of them being distant for so long. I know it’s going the opposite way for you, but your dad loves you even if it doesn’t feel that way. Don’t wait until it’s too late because who knows how many years you might waste?”
“I’ll only talk to him if he apologizes,” I say, but my voice is subdued. What Alex is saying is true, but I also can’t just back down. “It’s not my fault that his employee did what he did.”
Alex hums in agreement, but then a thought comes over me like a bucket of cold water. “Wait, if you know about Karl then…” I close my eyes miserably, wanting to ignore the walls and walls of sunflowers that seem too bright and cheery for this talk. “I suppose he told you about Roxanne too, then?”
