He should have lied

I wanted to see Vincent Van Gogh Museum. I dreamed about it sometimes. In my dream, I’d run through the bushes around it, the air heavy with the smell of sunflowers as they bloomed around me. I’d wake up confused because even though I had smelled the sunflowers in my dream, I could never remember the smell when I woke. In truth, I had never seen or smelled a real sunflower.

I knew that one day I would see it. I’d stand in front of “The potato eaters” and in that moment, every pencil and brush stroke I had ever made would have been worth it. When I did, I hoped to be standing next to the man I shared my entire life with because no moment could be more special to me.

I tweeted about it one time and received a message from my lover. He explained how tickets were cheap, getting a Schengen visa was difficult and how transportation was easy — All things I did not care about.

“Will you come with me?” I asked, forgetting to breathe, all the while trying to ignore my certainty that what I wanted the answer to be was not what I knew the answer would be.

“If there’s money, yes. If not, no.” He was never coming to Amsterdam with me, whether there was money or not; I knew it and he knew it too but he should have lied.

He should have said yes! He should have said that he wanted to see the sunflowers too, the glorious sunflowers. He should have said that he had always wanted to see Van Gogh Museum. He should have allowed me to indulge in my fantasy but he didn’t. He was never coming to Amsterdam with me, whether there was money or not; I knew it and he knew it too but he should have lied.

I wanted to see Vincent Van Gogh Museum. I dreamed about it sometimes. In my dream, I’d run through the bushes around it, all the while trying to ignore my certainty that the sunflowers I knew I wanted were not the sunflowers I knew I would get. I’d run through the bushes, the air heavy with the smell of sunflowers as they rotted around me.

My fantasy had died along with the flowers. I did not want to go to Vincent Van Gogh museum anymore. I did not dream about it. I did not want to see “The Potato eaters”. I did not want to share my entire life with my lover because he was never coming to Amsterdam with me, whether there was money or not; I knew it and he knew it too but he should have lied.