How should I begin the subject with him? The question has been on my mind since I woke up this morning. Too busy with my hair, Franzia barely noticed me spacing out. When I went inside the room, Botticelli welcomed me with a dashing smile.
"Good morning, Madonna." He said with a teasing voice.
When Franzia closed the door, I chuckled. "Good morning, Messer." He only replied with a smile. When I sat down and face my now favorite vase, I suddenly realized something is different in the room. The empty vase has now an Iris.
"I figured you should look at something beautiful as I paint you." He said as he began to paint, earning a smile from me. "At least then, you have something to look at instead of just a plain empty vase."
"How kind of you, Messer," I said, looking at him with a smile. "I truly appreciate it."
We were silent for a while. Slowly, I am starting to get used to his eyes inspecting every curve and feature in my face and neck, every strand, and detail on my hair.
I would look at him occasionally. He would crease his brows in focus as he works or he'd bite on a paintbrush as he uses another one in his hand. I find those little things amusing.
Even as I smile at his undivided attention towards his work, the questions have suddenly seeped through my mind. Perhaps I can open up about it.
He has already talked about it with my Aunt and I don't see any difference in me bringing it up anymore. "Last night, you mentioned the name Constantine? Can you tell me more about him?"
"Well, I met him 2 years ago when I stumbled upon him in my workshop in the Medici's Palazzo."
"He's the Englishman you speak of, isn't he?"
"Yes, indeed he was."
"Did he also tell you about his daughter?" This time, I chose to look right at him to see his reaction. Caught in the act, he lowered his gaze from my eyes and nodded yes. "How long have you known that I'm his daughter?"
He set down his equipment on the table and lean on it. "When Simona invited me here to commission a portrait of you."
"If you knew him, why didn't you say anything?"
"I'm still reeling from his sudden disappearance and the death of Simonetta. I didn't know how to begin talking about it. Also, for me, you were only a few days old. To see your adult self even after weeks of your birth is extremely odd."
Understanding how he feels at the moment, I fell quiet for a few seconds before speaking. "When I was a kid, he would tell me these autobiographical accounts about you as if he knows you or interacted with you." I stood up and took the Iris in my hand, appreciating the flower up close. "Little did I know that he truly did. Perhaps it was because I was too young to understand or because he still wants to go back." Remembering my father brings water to my eyes, the tears that I have suppressed for weeks to do what he's asked of me.
"Why are you speaking of him as if he's gone?" He said. When I look back at him with tears falling off my cheeks his face turned serious and sullen. "H-how?"
"At 44 years old, my dad begins to feel weak and looks more mature than his age. He was depressed and alone in his house in York. I don't know much of what happened to him before then but he suddenly had a weak heart that ultimately became the reason for his death."
Despite his humorless face, I can somehow see through him. He didn't want to cry but the loss of his 2 friends overwhelmed him. "Did he know of Simonetta's..." He couldn't manage to continue but I nodded yes.
"It might have contributed to it. If it was, he never mentioned anything not even in his final days."
He stood up abruptly and turn his back on me as he looked down. When my father died, I knew my uncle wanted to console me but I was too numb to feel anything however in his case, I knew he needed someone to be there.
Without thinking, I went towards him and hug him tightly. At first, he didn't do anything, until I felt his arms enveloping me slowly.
He buried his face in my shoulder and broke down. It must have been difficult to lose two people in a month. I could understand the loss, but the weight of it for him wouldn't be the same for me.
After a while, he recovered and went back to painting but we both decided not to talk until he was done for the day and left.
It was boring. How can anyone manage to live through days on end without little to entertain themselves? As I sat down on my chair, slumping as my Aunt was not around, I couldn't forget how things turned up earlier this morning.
I thought Aunt Simona would have at least let Botticelli know of my father's passing. I feel bad for breaking the news to him. Suddenly, I heard something downstairs.
"Is there something else I should buy?" Franzia said rather loudly. An idea sparked in my mind. I went downstairs, tiptoeing on my way, and avoiding other maids around the house. When I saw Franzia with a basket in her arms, she was already by the door.
Not wanting to be caught, I ran towards her and was able to be out before she could even close the door. Her face is filled with shock as soon as she saw me. "Madonna! I cannot let you out!" She said in a whisper.
"Please take me with you. I have nothing else to do and I might die of boredom if you don't." I pleaded.
Sighing in surrender, she nodded. "But you cannot leave my side, agree?"
Smiling, I spoke, "Agreed."
Being cooped up in the house is depressing and now that I'm finally outside, I feel like myself again. The streets are muddy and loud. From people selling different things to people painting on the street.
Some women are plucking their foreheads, eyebrows, and lashes, and some are making a trade. It felt so different and alive that I couldn't help but be amazed. I was silent the whole time with Franzia.
While she was buying vegetables, I decided to look around the market. It's strange. Seeing every convenient thing in my time to be nonexistent, now feels different and simple. With everyone in the market completely oblivious to me and how I gawk at my surroundings, I saw a familiar face.
His eyes are still a little red from crying earlier and I feel bad seeing him this way. As he was looking at some materials, I looked over at Franzia and spoke. "Franzia, I'll be right over there. I saw Botticelli." She only nodded and went back to her shopping.
I didn't know if it was the right time to talk to him again as he seemed a bit embarrassed because of what happened earlier. Making sure he's doing alright outweighs everything else, so my feet carried me towards him. "Hello," I said softly.
He looked at me shyly. "Madonna. What are you doing in a place like this?" He said, then looked around probably to see if I went here with someone.
"I came along with Franzia. I have to find a way to pass the time while you're finishing your other work." I said, smiling at him as I hope he'd smile back.
To my disappointment, he only nodded, and my smile slowly disappears. "I see. Well, I'm sure you'll be able to find something interesting to do."
"How are you feeling?" I said, then my arms reached out to his, clutching at his doublet.
He looked down at my arms and stiffen for a little bit. He only eased up when I retracted my hand. "I'll be fine. I must ask your forgiveness as well. I have let my emotions get the better of me."
"You didn't have to be this way with me. I truly appreciate you opening up to me when you did. I'm glad you care enough for my father. He's never made friends as easily as the others."
"I was the same. Perhaps that's why we're friends."
Smiling at him, suddenly someone called on Botticelli. "Sandro! We must go!" He said. He's too far away from me to see him but the hair that reaches his neck is rather dark and wavy. At that same time, Franzia called on me as well. Realizing it was time for us to part, he turns back towards me and spoke. "Forgive me, but I need to go."
"Yes, I understand. Franzia's calling on me too. I hope you feel better." Tapping his arm lightly, I left and went towards Franzia without looking back.
As we went back, I stumbled upon a bookstore down the street that ignited my interest. "Can I look around for some books inside?" I asked her.
Sighing in resignation she nodded. "Yes. If you like something, use this to buy them." She then handed me a bag filled with coins. I took it and cheerfully went inside. Smelling the books exhilarated me even more.
I was thankful to Franzia for bringing enough money for I wouldn't be able to afford books that are now heavy on my arms. When I went home, Aunt Simona caught me but decided that she does not wish to berate me.
After apologizing for sneaking out again and for using her money for all the books I bought, I went upstairs to my room. Carefully placing them on a table, I wash my face and hands and decided it was time to sleep. My last thought of the day is hoping that by some miracle Botticelli would feel better.