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Two weeks have passed, possibly the happiest two weeks of my life. I’m her partner in the classes, much to Anton’s dismay- I can’t help but smile as I watch him look on. And at night- I’ve never looked forward to our evening tea as much as I do now. Because afterwards, when Mireille does the dishes- I get to hold her. She’s right, it’s silly. But it’s the best thing in the world. I don’t drool on her anymore, now that I’m off the pain pills and not so tired. It’s funny, now I get this weird surge of energy when I hold her, and even though she’s right there, I want her to be closer. It doesn’t make sense but I find her on my mind, and on my drawing paper, sketch after sketch, as I sit at the park. Suddenly I have a thought, a bold thought, dare I ask her?

 

“Pose for you?” her voice is full of disbelief.
I nod, trying to get up my courage for the real question. We’re in the kitchen, and I’m almost finished with the tea. I pour out a cup for each of us.
“Nude.” I try to say as calmly as possible, handing her the cup.
“What!” she exclaims, mouth open in absolute shock.
“Please.” I choke out, unable to form any sort of logical argument. Her open mouth snaps shut and she whirls about, storming out of the kitchen.
I follow her, head down, and sit at the table in uncomfortable silence. How dare I- to be so selfish, to ask such a thing? All I know is I want to be closer, to know her, and drawing her, drawing her exposed, somehow excites me. I suppose I’m so awful to even think it. Maybe she will never speak to me again. I feel like crying. I feel her looking at me, but can’t face her. I don’t want to see that glare- the one she used to give me, that hurt so much. To think that I brought this on myself…I put my hands over my face, distraught. Please don’t look at me like that, Mireille. I can’t take it. Once again, I am some sort of freak.
She gets up from the table, tea untouched, and goes back into the kitchen. She bangs around in the kitchen, and I hear several cupboard doors slam.
I try hard not to let the tears out, but a few get by and I wipe them off. I hear her coming back out and suddenly a wine bottle slams onto the table. Wordless, she pours a glass for herself, and I remove my hands, watching her from the corner of my eye. She takes a few sips, ignoring me.
“Drink your tea before it gets cold.” she snaps at me.
I gulp and nod. She gets up and brings back a magazine and flips through it. We sip in silence. I steal a few looks her way, relieved to see that she’s no longer furious. I guess I can live with the cold treatment for a while.
I finish my tea sadly, suspecting that I won’t be able to hold her tonight. I sigh and push back the chair to get up.
“Are you finished?” she asks coolly.
“Yes. Um, you don’t want your tea?” I venture softly, grateful she’s even speaking to me.
“Then go get your sketchbook.” she states quietly, turning another page. I freeze in disbelief. Is this real? Did I just hear her say-
“Are you going to draw me or not?” she smacks the magazine shut, looking at me.
“Yes!” I squeak out, feeling a nervous wave run over my body.
It’s all I can do to remain calm as I rummage through my stuff, getting ready. A pencil stabs my hand, and instead of grimacing, I smile. I’m awake. This is real.

“Okay.” I pant out, returning to the table. She’s opened the magazine again and is still sitting down. A sudden fear that she’s changed her mind shoots through me. I stand behind her, waiting, my anxiety building.
“Will anyone see these drawings?”
“What?”
“Promise me no one will see them.” she still makes no move to leave the table.
“Of course not. I would never do that.” I say softly. I know they will be precious to me, like gold. I won’t share them with anyone.
She stands, and puts her hands on the chair, not facing me.
“You know I’ve never done anything like this before.” she almost sounds nervous. “So…I’m just going to take my top off and see how it goes.”
She's more talking to herself than me at this point, so I just grunt in agreement. I stand mesmerized behind her, watching her carefully remove her shirt, and giving a tug to the back of her bra, loosening it and twisting it to her front. She deposits it on the table, and picks up her glass of wine.
“Standing by the window ok?” she asks, and walks away before I answer. I set my stuff down on the table next to her clothes. All of a sudden I’m almost afraid to look at her. I situate myself in the chair, ready my pad, and look up.
“Mireille…” I whisper. She's so beautiful. I find my eyes dropping to her bare breasts and I suddenly get a shiver down my spine.
“What is it?” she crosses her arms defensively. She takes another sip from her glass. “I can’t believe I’m doing this for you. What would my parents think?”
“That you’re the most beautiful model in the world.” I blurt out, and I see a strange look cross her face.
“I’m sorry.” I stammer out again, suddenly not knowing what to say. There’s an awkward silence on my part, then she breaks into a smile. “I’ll bet you say that to all your models.”
“You’re the only model for me.” I answer quietly, and I feel the color creep into my cheeks.
”Really…I hope no one can see through these shutters.” she murmurs, cracking one open and looking out.
“Um, Mireille?”
“Yes?” she closes the shutter and takes another sip, looking at me.
“Can you hold still?”
“Bossy.” she huffs, but is smiling. “Anything else?”
“Put your arms down.” I say softly, and am surprised to see her blush slightly. She licks her lips a little, then slowly drops her arms. Her eyes close and she clenches her glass.
“I feel so naked.” her whisper is so low I almost don’t hear it. I begin to draw, mesmerized by each line of her body.
“You’re beautiful, Mireille.” I whisper back to her. I don’t know whether or not she hears me, her eyes stay shut. I take this chance to really look at her, to admire her now in a way I never have before. A small prayer escapes my lips.
“Don’t ever let this moment end...”

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