November 6 – Sunday (Evening)
The snow had fallen the night before last and shimmered like crystals under the sun the morning thereafter. She had come to visit me, like she always did on Sundays; she was wearing her burgundy coat, two sizes too big. She had long hair which flowed down to her shoulder, a bit unkempt and frizzy, but luscious, nonetheless; sun-bleached brown locks cascading into itself. My eyes had traced her gate, hurried, but not rushed, it was purposeful. She had placed herself by the large Palladian window, the sun pranced through it, kissing her gently along her cheek, ceasing just shy of her lips, the phantom of which taunted mine. She had pulled out a book then, one I hadn’t read before, but I don’t remember the cover all too well anyway, just the grip she held, her delicate fingers caressing the leather tome, long nails gently scraping its surface. I shuddered.
That evening, she’d left when the sun had set, and the courtyard was lit only by hissing lampposts. Her gate was purposeful, it was always purposeful, she knew where she wanted to go, and she had nary a wasted step. It was like watching a film, the way she strode, there was an art to it. I watched her fade out of view from where I sat, dumbstruck, my tea now gone cold.
I wonder… what’s her name?
November 8 – Monday (Morning)
By some twist of fate, we sat next to each other in the lecture hall. I hadn’t noticed we had a class together until I walked in, scanned the room for my seat, which someone else had stolen from under me that day, and upon searching for a replacement, I saw her at the back of the class. She was scribbling in her notebook, staring absently at it as her pen glade along the paper. I glanced at her intermittently, being sure not to let my eyes linger too long in case she noticed, despite how badly my eyes wanted to drink her in. I couldn’t tell if she was writing or drawing, but given the odd swishes of her wrist, I’d bet on the latter. The professor began to profess, as they do, and I rummaged through my bag for a pen and notebook of my own. I patted every corner, but I couldn’t seem to find it. There was, however, a peculiar notebook-shaped object, my fingers traced a spiral-bound structure but that couldn’t be it, and there was this small bag which had these long thin plastic structures inside, which may have been a pen but I don’t think it was. I searched harder, making a face of desperate perplexion when a tantalizing voice emanated from beside me.
“Do you need a pen and paper?”
I glance up at my savior, “That would be great”
“Here”
|
“Thank you”
And I began taking notes with this newfound pen, and this newfound paper. The pen was weighted excellently, just heavy enough at the top to fall into my fingers comfortably, and the paper was just thick enough to not need something under it to write comfortably.
At the end I returned her pen, she grabbed it, and I offered a gentle resistance before letting go, “Thank you again”
“Oh, it’s nothing”
“What’s your name?”
“Valerie, yours?”
“Cercei”
November 11 – Friday (Morning)
She’d missed lecture Wednesday. I’d spent the class gnawing at my pen cap till the plastic shavings came off into my mouth, and then I found another pen to do the same. My notebook page for 11/11 lacked class notes but had hastily sketched figures all over it. My head was racing. What did I do wrong? Was it tugging on the pen?? Am I a fucking idiot why’d I do that? Did I scare her off? Oh god, I did, didn’t I? Did she drop the class? Because of me? Is she avoiding me? I’ll get to see her on Sunday at least. Should I say hi to her on Sunday? What should I wear on Sunday? Maybe… no, no, she’s already seen me wearing that, I can’t wear that again.
Today, It was 4 minutes till lecture began. Is she coming today?
3 minutes. She’s probably not coming today.
2 minutes. She wouldn’t sit with me even if she did.
1 minute. I’m repulsive, I made her uncomfortable, I ruined everything.
The shuffling of the desk chair beside me jolted me back to reality, and I glanced over to see her sitting there. I smiled warmly at her, and she did so back, tacking on a gentle wave.
She loves me.
At the end of lecture as she got up to leave, I timed my exit with hers. We walked out of the hall together, first sharing brief pleasantries regarding the weather, what the rest of her schedule looked like today and how did mine.
“Were you out sick Wednesday?” I asked as we made our way to the courtyard where branching paths split off into different buildings and colleges.
“Oh,” Valerie started, shifting uneasily, “No, something just came up at home. My dad’s been…” she trailed off.
My heartbeat caught, this poor girl. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather not, I understand”
Valerie smiled in relief, “Thanks”
We walked a bit further in silence. “So, you’re an artist?”
“Oh! Yeah, I am, do you wanna see?”
We sat under a naked tree by the courtyard; winter coats pressed against snow. She pulled out her notebook, sticker-bombed to hell and began flipping through pages. There were sketches of trees, a few buildings I recognized. A variety of fantastical characters and creatures.
“Holy shit, these are gorgeous”
“Thanks! I paint too, but I don’t have those on me”
“I’d love to see them sometime! I used to paint, but it’s been a long while”
“Aw, why’d you stop?”
“I…” it was my turn to trail off, “I just haven’t felt very… inspired in a while”
“I totally understand,” she said, placing her hand on my shoulder. Warmth flowed through my entirety, as if I could sit out in the snow for hours on end and never feel cold while I had her hand on my body. I want her hands on my body, “If you do paint something though, I’d love to see yours too.”
I smiled at her, and she smiled back.
“Well, I’m going to be late to class. I’m headed this way,” she gestured in the opposite direction I was headed, and my heart sank just a little, “I’ll see you next week!”
“Yeah. Have a good rest of your day!”
I watched her walk off afterwards; she veered left out of sight after crossing the chemistry building, and then towards her next class. I wondered where it was.
November 13 – Sunday (Evening)
I sat at my usual spot in the library with my cup of tea. It was a quarter past 2. Valerie usually shows up around now every Sunday, almost ritualistically. She’ll sit down at the large Palladian window, and she’ll bring out a book to read. I packed my largest thermos, I had it filled with black tea, and I made sure to pack an extra travel cup for her. As if by clockwork, the library door opened, and she walked in, aiming directly, purposefully, for her usual spot. It was just then that it occurred to me, how do I walk over without seeming like I’m following her? I’d have to wait, and so I did, I’d brought out a pen and paper and began sketching. I watched the time tick by, but eventually the ceaseless ticking and the tocking bored me. It was then that I glanced back down to where Valerie sat… she was gone. Fucking… DAMN IT! I pressed the pencil into the notebook till the lead snapped off and rolled onto the floor.
Damn it, damn it, damn it!! My breath began to hitch and my lungs pushed out the air faster than I could breath it in.
DAMN IT…
deep breaths… I try to take deep breaths
but I can’t.
I cant. I can’t
I can’t
DAMN IT…
I inhale sharply and hold my breath
I breathe out slowly
damn it… fucking… fuck.
God fucking damn it.
Cont. November 13 – Sunday (Late Night)
Inside, I offered to make her some tea. The thermos was over-steeped by now, so I threw it out and began boiling the kettle. I asked her what tea she’d prefer, she said she didn’t have a preference. I chose ginger. I handed her a cup.
“You said you used to paint” she said, blowing on her cup of tea, “do you have your supplies here?”
“I did, and I do”
“What did you paint?”
“People. I did portraits and figures”
“Why people?”
“I found it interesting. Bodies are varied; they’re a challenge. They’re like fabric, the different ways they fold. Hair, fat, muscles, wrinkles.”
“Why’d you stop?”
“I,” I took a sip of my tea, the ginger burned slightly going down my throat, “I lost… the drive”
“What do you mean?”
“The passion for it, I guess. It stopped exciting me”
“Do I excite you?”
I stopped breathing, “Huh?”
“Do I excite you?” Valerie enunciated every word.
“Yes”
“So,” Valerie stood up and began to disrobe, “paint me”
November 14 – Monday
The image of Valerie was seared into my mind. The way she lay, the way I couldn’t take my eyes off her, the way she didn’t want me to. Lecture was about to begin, and Valerie wasn’t here yet. She tended to cut it close, and I was right. 1 minute before lecture began, she ran in and took her seat. Her hair was a bit frizzy, and her eyes were deeply set. I smiled at her; she didn’t smile back.
Nearing the end of lecture, I aimed to time my exit with hers, but she shot up out of her chair. “Sorry, I’m in a rush” and she walked out the door before I could say anything more than a “Okay, bye”
What was wrong? Did she hate me? Did I do something wrong? What about last night? Did something happen? Did I do something wrong? Did I do something wrong? What did I do wrong?
Fuck Fuck—
I can’t breathe.
November 16 – Wednesday
After lecture, we walked together again. It was snowing, every step crunched underfoot.
“Are you alright? You seemed a bit distraught yesterday”
“Oh… yeah, sorry, I’m fine. My dad, he, uh, came down to visit the night before and we just,” she sighed heavily, “we just argued a lot, and then I had to run early to finish an assignment that was due within the hour”
“You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry it’s been rough”
“Thanks… I’m getting by though”
“Glad to hear it”
Silence reigned supreme for a moment.
“Did you want to see the painting I did?”
She lit up, “Definitely!”
“Are you free to come over tonight?”
“Yeah, I can make it work”
November 16 – Wednesday (Evening)
Valerie and I walked over to my dorm room together. It was a quiet night; there weren’t many people who stayed out late on frigid nights like tonight. The snow shimmered under the lamplight and the moon, Valerie said she loved the snow, and so did I. There was a calmness to it, not only did it keep people inside, but it also softened the outside world. Sounds weren’t ever as loud, and every step had a comforting crackle to it. We said we loved seeing the footprints, it’s the only time you get to see footprints on cement, and every step tells a story of someone going somewhere, or a bunch in a circle tells another. Valerie and I walked closely, our footsteps paired together. I hoped that if someone saw it, they’d imagine a couple holding hands.
“Did your dad leave?”
“He left that night”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s not much to say. He drinks, he always has, he’s got anger issues, he always did. My mother never stood up to him, because why would she? She was scared, but I wasn’t. So, our screaming matches have been a part of our father-daughter bond for as long as I can remember”
I didn’t really know what to say, responding with a…
“That sucks”
…felt reductive.
“Tell me about it,” we walked up the stairs to the entrance to my dorm.
“Never mind that, how’d your painting turn out?”
I smiled, “Well, I had a gorgeous model, I just hope I did her justice” I turned the key and pushed open the door.
“Oh! It’s a portrait? That’s exciting! I’ve never actually done portraits before. Is that what you usually paint?”
The door fully opened, revealing the portrait at the center of the room. Valerie locked eyes with herself. I watched her take the step into the room, examining the artwork.
“Wow, that’s excellent. The brush work, the—” she paused, “Who… who was your model?”
“You?” I said
“What?” Valerie turned to face me, and her eyes widened further, opposite her were more portraits, paintings and sketching all in different poses, “How did–?”
All of her.
“You came over…?”
“When?!” Valerie took one step backwards, almost knocking over the easel.
“Sunday night.” I took a step forward, “You came over, I made you tea,” I was getting annoyed, a tension held strong at my temples, “You asked me to paint you?”
“Cercei, I wasn’t in town”
“Of course you were, you were here” I said.
“Cercei,” Valerie’s voice cracked, “you’re scaring me”
“You’re lying to me!” I said
.
“Cercei, please, I want to leave” Water welled up in her eyes, her beautiful brown eyes.
“Stop lying to me then” I said.
“Cercei please…” tears were crawling down her eyes, “I want to leave”
“NO!” I said, “Why don’t you believe me?!”
Valerie bolted, she ran towards the door, pushing past me. I reached out to grab her, getting purchase on the ends of her dress. It snagged on her and she fell forward, head slamming against the corner of the dresser. She hit the floor with a hollow thump, blood pouring out of her head.
“Valerie! No, no, no, no!!” I yelled, cradling her body, pressing against her wound, but her eyes were already glazed over. “No… please. I need you”
I pulled her up and set her down on the couch, “You’re so beautiful,” Taking off her jacket, unzipping her dress. She lay there; she was beautiful. She was art, she would be art. She’d be my art. She’d be my muse, she’ll always be my muse.
I placed a canvas on my easel, and I began to paint.
Saye Kamal 
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