Page 15 of Hannah.
A few minutes pass when the server comes over, hands us two glasses, and fills them with Veuve Clicquot Brut.
“I’m truly lucky to have met you, Astrid,” I tell her before we can do a toast. ”If you ever need anything, I’ll do my best to support you.”
She smiles, her eyes reflecting gratitude. “You’re a special soul. I can sense it.” She raises her glass, and I do the same. “To friendship.”
“To friendship,” I repeat.
The clinking of cutlery and the hum of surrounding conversations fade into the background as Astrid and I clink our glasses. When the meal is over, we both order coffees to go. Waiting for them at the counter, Astrid reaches down and squeezes my hand.
“Thanks for today, friend. I enjoyed this.”
Her words bring a smile to my face. “You tookmeout, Astrid! So thank you…friend. I’ll see you tonight?”
She grins. “Yes, for sure. I can’t wait.”
5
Hannah
The hall holdingthe exhibition is still on campus but its distant enough that I decided to take a cab. I flirted with the idea of asking Astrid for a ride, but she’s already done so much for me that I don’t want to intrude.
Immediately upon arriving, I see that it’s a lot more formal than the oddities exhibit from earlier in the week—hence the dress. I’m infinitely grateful that Astrid filled me in before I could show up in a sweater and make a fool of myself.
Soon enough, I find myself standing before the imposing doors of the hall, a thrum of excitement in the air. The setting is like something out of a period drama—opulent chandeliers casting a soft, golden glow, elegant tapestries hanging from the walls, and the hushed whispers of attendees adding to the atmosphere. It’s a concoction of grandeur and mystery, and I feel a twinge of exhilaration.
But at the same time, I sort of feel out of place. Everyone is looking at me with a curious flair, and while I know that most of them are students just like me, being a fresher makes themall feel so imposing. Like they’re grown-ups, and I’m still just a kid, even if that isn’t true. When I looked in the mirror before leaving, I was filled with confidence. Now, not so much. Maybe I’ll feel better after I find Astrid.
Before I can find her, though, I find one portion of the exhibition. It isn’t too crowded here—a lot of people are waiting to receive drinks at the bar—and the solitude of the area makes my palms start to burn with a familiar sensation.
Among the sea of artifacts, my eyes lock onto a small, alluring trinket tucked away in a secluded corner. A pocket watch, intricately designed with floral motifs and adorned with sapphires that glimmer like captured stars. It matches my dress almost perfectly. Holding it in my hands, I sense its weight and history, and for a moment, I feel intimately connected to it.
The thrill of the act surges through me as I slip the pocket watch into my small clutch purse. I feel a rush of adrenaline, an electric pulse of rebellion. Guilt lingers, but the excitement of the steal overshadows it. This trinket is no longer just an object; it’s a secret, a memento of my audacity, a tangible proof of my existence in this world of antique and strange objects from the past.
Walking away, my heart is pounding, but I feel good—great, even. Any doubt I had earlier of feeling too young or unfit for this gathering dissipates. The stolen treasure nestled in my purse is a forbidden prize, and even if no one knows it, I’m suddenly carrying more worth on me than they could ever know. It’s a silent companion and will look perfect among all my other trinkets.
Letting the adrenaline rush ebb away, I weave through the bustling crowd, my eyes scanning for Astrid's familiar face. Spotting her, a grin involuntarily spreads across my lips. “Astrid!” I call out.
She sees me and grins in return, heading in my direction. Astrid looks incredible in a muted silver dress with her long hair slicked back. She pulls me in for a hug, and we embrace tightly.
“Thank you for inviting me.” I gush as we separate. “I never would have had a chance of seeing all these incredible things without you.”
“Of course!” She waves her hand to indicate that it’s no big deal. “I’m glad to have someone I know to sit with. Speaking of, let's get our seats. We can’t miss the first speaker.”
I take one last look at all the displayed artifacts, but Astrid takes my hand and leads me through the crowd to the theater area where the speech will be held. It’s dark, and I don’t recognize anyone else, but that doesn’t matter. I have Astrid.
We find seats in the front row, and I settle into the velvet-lined wooden seat, smoothing my dress as I do so. I hold my clutch in my lap, rubbing my thumb along the shape of the watch within and biting back a secret smile. It doesn’t matter how amazing or boring the speaker is—not when I’ve already gotten something so lovely from the exhibit.
The lights go down even lower, and people around us shush each other. On the stage, a spotlight shines on an antique wooden podium with a thin microphone attached. Astrid is almost stiff with excitement, which amuses me. How good can this speaker possibly be?
The moment Johan steps onto the stage, my eyes widen in sheer disbelief, thoughts clouded by the welcoming applause erupting by the crowd, who seems to recognize him too. Gosh. It’s him, right there, commanding the entire room's attention with his presence. Shock reverberates through me like an electric jolt. Johan, the guy I’ve had this silent, enduring crush on, who seems dead set on ignoring my very existence, is the distinguished speaker tonight. My eyes are glued to him, trying to reconcile the familiar face with the newfound context.
He clears his throat and looks over the crowd, tall and handsome as always. “Good evening, everyone. Thank you for joining us tonight. For those of you who don’t know, I’m Johan Bentinck, head of the research project on British heritage. This exhibition is the culmination of years of hard work for my team and me. And they deserve just as much credit.”
There is a brief smattering of applause before he continues. “As custodians of these treasures, it is our responsibility to breathe life back into these silent witnesses of time.” Johan reaches into the depths of the podium and pulls out a stunning emerald pendant mounted behind a small glass frame, holding it up as he speaks.
“Consider this ancient pendant, its delicate filigree telling of a craftsman's dedication, a lover's gift, or perhaps a symbol of hope in the face of adversity. Or the weathered tomes displayed out front, their pages worn by countless hands, bearing the weight of knowledge passed down through generations. In the intricate patterns of this mosaic, we find the artistry of a forgotten past, a testament to human creativity.”
“Gosh, isn’t he wonderful?” Astrid breathes next to me, and I look over at her, frowning when I get a good look at her face. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she is smitten. A bad feeling settles in my stomach, and I absentmindedly press a hand to it.