by Dane Bagley
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“Oh Tira, how are you, my dear?”
“Terrence,” she said, and moved towards him. She was sitting on her bed with her feet up and had soft tears running down her cheeks.
“I am told that you are well, but I fear that this is not true. You are still hurting?”
Tira shook her head and stood up to embrace him. Her soft tears turned to soft sobs as they tenderly embraced for a long while.
“Oh, Terrence, I have missed you so much.”
“Tira, please tell me how you feel?”
“I am better, perhaps a little tender at times, but getting stronger every day. Really, I am nearly at full strength.”
“Oh, I am happy. But why do you look so pale and so distraught?”
“I was told that we could not see each other until the moment of our wedding. But I see that this is not true, for here you are.”
“Yes, the king has made…an exception.”
“I fear that it is because I am distraught—because I do not cooperate and am upset that he has sent you here. The king has told you of my refusal?”
“He has.”
“Then you know why I am upset. I am told that we cannot wed until I am able to provide a gift worthy of you. The only solution that I have been given is to allow a portrait to be made of me. But, I will not do it! I will not, Terrence. I loathe every portrait that has ever been painted of me before. No artist has ever pleased me. My parents either never hung the portraits or they put them in the least conspicuous places, while they admired the portraits of every other girl. It is bitterness to me. Tell me, Terrence, am I beautiful enough for you?”
“Yes, without question, my love.”
“They tell me that my beauty is the gift that I am to give to you. Am I not giving this to you as we wed? I am happy to give everything to you. But, I think that you will think me less beautiful once you see how the artist would portray me. You would see me in a lesser light. If you hung it in our home it would annoy you and bother you. You would look away from it until you could not stand it anymore and then you would stare at it for hours. You would then come to think that I am as the artist portrays and you would think me ugly and hideous. You would regret having ever known me. You would think, this is how I look. ‘When I see her in person she deceives me with her smile and her expression, but she is really very ugly.’ This is what would happen. I want you to see me only with your eyes and never through the eyes of an artist—a stranger, who looks at me with no compassion, but as a specimen only.
“Artists find the flaws and they accentuate it. They scrunch their nose and they struggle. They grunt as they paint me. They ask me to smile differently, to change my expression; ‘perhaps if you sit, no standing would be better—hold yourself this way, no that way. Let us change the attire, it is the wrong color, the wrong cut, it is out of fashion, it is too fashionable. Let us move it out of doors to let there be more light; no, indoors it is too bright, we must subdue the light. The scenery is all wrong, let us change that.’ There must be something that can be done to make me less hideous. But no, they give up and then paint with a scowl. And then apologetically they present their portrait and take their pay and get as far away as they can, as quickly as possible. You see, Terrence, I have sat for portraits before and I can never do it again!”
Terrence smiled unconsciously. Tira looked at him with anger. “You exaggerate, my dear,” he said playfully.
“Perhaps we shall not wed,” she said in exasperation and turned away from him. “If I must sit for a portrait to wed you then we may never see each other again.”
“Tira…”
“I will not, Terrence!”
“May I…” she turned towards him after some pause, “offer a simple solution?”
“What?”
“May I ask first, is it the sitting for the portrait that is most horrific, or is it my seeing the finished work?”
“Both.”
“Yes, but which is worse?”
“It is you ever seeing it, even for a moment. I could endure the anguish of the artist struggling to paint me. But, I could never endure you laying eyes upon it. Never.”
“Well, then my solution would work.”
“How so?”
“I’m afraid that it would require you to sit for the portrait and I dare say that I am not telling you that you must. But, if you would be willing to go thus far, then I would be willing to keep myself from ever beholding it.”
“But, it must be a gift. It will be unveiled and presented to you. I am sure that everyone will be around and will watch you as you gaze upon it. They will look for your expression; they will listen to your words as you lay praise upon it. This gift is no trifling thing here. You will look upon it, and even if you burn it thereafter, you will have seen me as I never want you to.”
“True, my dear Tira, I believe that you are right. But, I still offer the same solution. You sit for it, but I never look at it.”
“You are confusing me.”
“Have you never defocused your eyes such that you appear to look at something, yet it is unclear? I have even gone so far as to defocus my eyes while another looked upon me and asked if there was any change in the expression on my eyes. I was told no. I have listened to an individual and when the conversation wearied me, blurred the individuals face in order to be distanced from it. The individual never knew that I was keeping them out of focus. I will simply defocus my eyes while the portrait is unveiled. I will fain my approbation and complement you, and the artist, and the king. I will have my speech ahead of time prepared. To you and to all else I will appear to be gazing and admiring. But, in reality I will see a blurry rectangular color only. I will see nothing of the image of you there upon. Of course, you will have to trust me.”
Tira looked at him, yet distantly.
“You are looking at me out of focus, are you not?”
Tira laughed. “Yes. But see, you could tell. They will all know.”
“No, you are out of practice. You were trying too hard. I am very practiced and will not be known. Do you trust me to do it as I have said?”
Tira paused.
“When they were healing you, you lay uncovered before me. Though I love you, and look forward to seeing you as such when we wed, and even though because of your delirium, caused by pain, you may have never known if I did look, I did not. I never allowed my eyes to gaze upon you as I will after we are wed. You trusted me then. I assure you, this will be a thousand times easier than that was then.”
Tira came to him and embraced him. They kissed for some time. Such a feeling of love and attraction overcame Tira that she was ready to do as was required. She could wait no longer for them to be together—to be wed.
“I shall sit for it. And I will blur my eyes so that I can imagine that I am doing anything but this horrid thing.”
“I am sorry to have to ask. Since you have known me, and in order for us to be together, you have had to change or give-up everything that you have ever known. I do not intend for our marriage to be about you doing or being something other than you are.”
“There is truth in what you say. Yet, I have never been manipulated by you. I have chosen freely with a full knowledge always. It was not what you said that convinced me, but rather your kiss. For that kiss and how you make me feel, I would sit for a thousand portraits. I love you, Terrence. I want to wed and to be with you. It is worth what little sacrifice has been necessary for me to be with you!”
