by J Wells
“Just got sick of Josh calling me short arse.”
“Personally, I prefer short women; I think they’re kinda cute.”
Steadying myself, he returns me to my feet. I’m standing staring up at him. I can’t see his eyes through his shades, yet I have a feeling he’s staring back. I open my mouth to speak but hesitate. His hands are still on my arms, and he doesn’t step away or utter a word. His hand drops away from me and then I feel him lifting my chin between his fingers. He cocks his head to the side.
“Daft really, I know.” I see his Adam’s apple move as he swallows hard. “For a split second I imagined looking at you, not through a haze or picturing you in my mind, but really seeing you. The soft edges of your face, your features, the exact colour of your eyes, and that tiny dimple of yours.”
We’re standing so close that his warm breath catches the side of my face. I tilt my head and am sure that as I exhale Gabriel inhales, breathing me in.
There’s another knock, this time coming from the conservatory. Loosening me, Gabriel turns his head.
“Suppose I’d better get that.”
He exits the kitchen, leaving me speechless. I crouch to retrieve the broken pieces of crockery, lay them on the worktop and try to piece them back together. At the same time my mind’s trying to piece together what just happened.
“Natasha, it’s your dad and sister!”
Hearing voices, I make my way to the conservatory. Gabriel’s standing head to head with my dad, who’s pointing out into the garden. They’re discussing his clematis that has totally taken over a six-foot wall. Then the conversation moves on to a large plot of roses. Dad seems enthralled and hasn’t even seen me enter. With his back to me, he unzips his sage-green anorak and folds his umbrella.
“Enough about plants!” I hear my sister protest.
Gabriel and Dad stop mid-sentence, both looking her way. Dad gives her that look I know so well, because he’s given it to me on a few occasions. His eyes scrunch, and without uttering a word he’s telling her not to be so rude.
More outspoken than me and ignoring Dad’s prompt, she’s quick to add, “Have you forgotten I’m here to be painted?”
She flicks open a couple of buttons and slips off her knee-length coat. She’s gone all out to impress. I have to blink and look again. Apart from seeing her in a bridesmaid dress, this is the only other time I’ve seen her looking like a woman. Her hair isn’t spiked with gel but smoothed back, apart from a short fringe that falls across her forehead, softening her face. She looks beautiful.
Her shoulders rise. “Gabriel, isn’t it?”
He nods.
“How much is this going to set me back?”
Gabriel lets out a short cough, clearing his throat. “That depends how many portraits you’re wanting.” He looks at me and smiles. “A grand a piece; if like your sister you decide to have three, I’ll knock five hundred off.”
I watch her eyes shift to Dad.
“A thousand pounds? With the baby coming I haven’t got that kind of money lying around. A couple of hundred maybe, and that’s at a push.”
She glances at me.
“Let me speak to Josh.”
“Gabriel, if I’m not being too forward,” Dad pipes up, stepping towards the door, “what about I sort that wilderness out there as part payment?”
Gabriel stands for a while, chewing on his lip.
“Sir, if you’re willing to sort my garden and maintain it through the summer, then I’ll do more than knock a few hundred off, I’ll waive the entire bill.”
“As good as done.” Dad beams, and stepping forward he shakes Gabriel by the hand.
“Thank you!” Adrianna lets out a high-pitched squeal, and rushing past Gabriel she hugs Dad. “Love you!” She grins up into his eyes.
“Us dads have our uses at times,” he chortles, patting her on the shoulder.
“Anyway, I’d best get going; your mother’s got a list of chores as long as her arm waiting for me. If it’s not too much to ask, Tash, would you mind driving your sister back home after the session?”
“Sure.” I peer at the screen of my phone. “If you’ll feed Larry.”
I feel like a fly on the wall as I watch Gabriel and Adrianna. It makes a nice change being on the opposite side of the easel. I sit watching the strokes made by Gabriel’s pencil as he begins to draw. Adrianna’s eyebrows rise and her lips twitch in a somewhat awkward smile as he presses his fingers across her cheeks and forehead like he did with me. I can see the disagreeable expression on her face; she’s getting more and more pissed off, as every time she moves her head Gabriel walks over to her, tilting it back into the position he wants.
Gabriel hands Adrianna a colour chart to fill in. I only half listen to their conversation, which swings from Mr Pooch to babies, and then Josh and our wedding. To be honest I’m quite happy sitting quietly after the little episode we had earlier.
“Can’t you sit still?”
“Actually no,” she pipes up. “I’m nearly six months pregnant and busting for a piss.”
Gabriel stands up straight. “Why didn’t you say? Natasha, take her to the bathroom, will ya?”
I frown at his request; after all, she’s thirty-two and doesn’t need me to hold her hand. But it’s more than that; it feels like he’s sending me with her because he doesn’t want to be alone with me.
“I’ll have a job,” I reply. “I’ve never used your bathroom.”
I needed to on several occasions, but held it in as I felt too awkward to ask. Then after the session I’d rush to the petrol station down the road and use the toilet there.
He points into the house. “Straight through the dining room, the stairs are in front of you, take the first left on the landing.”
“I promise I’ll sit still when I get back.”
Adrianna uncrosses her legs, pushes herself from her seat and disappears into the house.
Not knowing where to look, I look down into my lap. Picking up a piece of screwed-up paper from the floor, I throw it towards Mr Pooch, who jumps down from her usual chair, grabs it in her mouth and triumphantly pads over to me, dropping it between my feet.
“Bloody hell, she does fetch.”
She sits down, purring, and looks so cute that I can’t help but grab my phone and take a picture. I lean over and stroke the top of her head.
“I told you she did; she definitely thinks she’s a dog.”
I nod and sit back. Looking across at him I notice his smile straighten. Hurry up, Adrianna, I feel so damn awkward.
“So…” My mind is trying to think of something to say, and quickly.
“So?”
“I’ve been watching your hands move around the paper. How do you manage to do it?”
“Do what?”
“You know, paint, draw, the way you are.”
“The way I am? My sight, you mean…” He reaches towards me. “Come here, I’ll show you.”
Me and my big mouth. His hand slips into mine; his fingers feel intrusive. My instinct is to pull away, but I have no idea why. He manoeuvres me in such a way that I’m standing directly in front of him, staring at the dark pencilled outline of my sister’s face.
“Right, now close your eyes and let me move your hand over the paper.”
My arm tenses.
“Try relaxing,” he whispers.
But how can I relax when his body is pressed against mine? My cheeks heat up. He’s far too close.
“Are you feeling?”
“Yes.” I open and close my fingers. “I’ve never felt paper like this before.”
“No, and you probably won’t again. It’s imported from China, a special paper that’s brilliant white with ridges and raised squares.”
It’s odd, because I can’t see what I feel.
“They help me find my way around. If you move your hand a little to the left, you should feel a slight indentation.”
I do as he asks, and my thumb sinks in.
“
That’s my central point; I start from there and work my way out. If I use a dark lead pencil to sketch with and stand close to the easel, I can see what I’m drawing. But with this…” He reaches past me, lifting the A3 sheet. “This gives me a helping hand. I love what I do and so have laid the foundations in place. Then, if by chance I do lose my sight completely in years to come, I’ll still have the ability to paint.”
I free my hand and spin round to face him. I expect him to back off, give me some space, but he makes no attempt to do so. Sandwiched between his chest and the easel I have nowhere to go. I breathe steadily through open lips, trying to blow out the awkwardness I feel. There are so many questions on the tip of my tongue and I’m far too nosey not to ask; there may not be another chance.
“Gabriel, I don’t understand. To paint but be able to see nothing?” I babble out my words.
“I guess my paintings wouldn’t be as detailed as they are today; they’d be a lot more abstract.”
I breathe a little easier as he shuffles back. “But how?” I quiz with added confidence. “How could you possibly know your colours?”
“I was waiting for you to ask that. At the moment, with my sight as it is, I work from a colour chart and stack my paints in the pantry in number order.” He hesitates.
“Okay, I get that, but what if you lose your sight?”
“The colour chart would go out of the window, but I’d still have my ways.”
“Like what?”
“Colours, Natasha. There are far too many types of paint for me to go into; you’d be surprised if I told you, they differ so much.” I gather he’s raised his eyebrows as his glasses lift. “Both in thickness and texture. It’s a little project I’m working on at the moment. I’m at the point where I only have to feel a paint between my fingers to know its colour.”
Subconsciously I find myself nodding. “Okay, so I can understand colours to a degree, but this touching thing you do.” I shake my head. “I just don’t get it. I’ve sat on my bed at home, closed my eyes, felt my face, felt Larry’s face, but in my mind I see absolutely nothing.”
“Your senses are lazy, whereas mine have had training. It’s bullshit what I said when I first met you; I don’t touch and see you with my hands, it just sounds good to the clients, short and sweet.”
“So what do you see?”
“I can see you, your face, I can see your long hair, your body, I can see all of you, but just as a blurred image standing in front of me.”
He edges towards a wicker chair and sits down.
“But with my fingers I see shapes, angles, the broadness and length of one’s nose, the unique shape of the eyes and the fullness of the lips. My mind creates a 3D image and then, much like a mathematician, I work out the logistics before transferring them onto paper.”
“What you do, it’s kind of amazing.”
“When you’ve felt one face you’ve felt them all; at the end of the day it’s just skin and bone packaged together differently, so don’t go bigging me up. I’m nothing special, just a bloke trying to earn an honest living… Anyway, less about me, how about you find out where your sister’s got to.”
Dad, who looks very smart in his dapper grey suit, gets to his feet.
“A toast to Coral, my beautiful wife, on her special birthday. What was it, love, twenty-one again?”
She looks into his eyes, resting her head against his side.
“I wish,” she mutters.
I watch him drape his arm around her shoulder, disturbing the strap of her halter-neck dress.
I smile and raise my glass of champagne. I guess it’s not every day your mum turns sixty. I stare at the empty chair pushed underneath the table between Danielle and me. Looking up, I catch her hazel eyes, but I can’t bring myself to speak and feel I have no option other than to force a smile. Her gaze quickly bypasses me, and without hesitation I glance down to my phone hidden in my lap. I’ve been checking it non-stop since we arrived. The flight Josh was on had been delayed for over twelve hours. My eyes widen. According to the website, he should have landed at East Midlands Airport about an hour ago. I work out the time it’ll take him to get home in traffic, then ten minutes or so to shower and another fifteen to get his arse down here… Jet lag springs to mind. Oh God, I hope he hasn’t passed out on the bed.
Where are you? X. Crossing my fingers, I press send.
The waitress, a young girl dressed in a black tunic, reaches between Mum and Dad and hands them both a menu. Opening it, she points out today’s specials. The next minute I get a waft of perfume and have a menu placed in front of me.
“Can we give it another twenty minutes or so before we order, please?” I clasp my hands in front of me, giving Mum a large grin. “I’m sure he’ll be here.”
Mum lifts her reading glasses, and looking under her eyes she opens her mouth to answer.
“I’ve sat here for an hour sipping water,” Adrianna blurts out, plonking her elbows on the table. “I’m starving and so is he.” She lifts her arm from the place mat in front of her and points down at her stomach.
I can see she’s not happy, but really can’t bring myself to look at her for long. Glancing around the table, I have a feeling that everyone else feels exactly the same. I know by the way she’s fluttering her false lashes and pushing out her chest that she’s trying to impress Danielle, but her makeover is a total disaster. Everything Adrianna is wearing tonight clashes, including her baggy lime-green top and trousers. Her make-up is plastered on and she’s wearing a jet-black Sixties-style wig with a purple headband across the top. I’m surprised Adrianna hasn’t noticed Mum biting her lips in an attempt to stop herself from laughing. Mum and Dad have already polished off a large bottle of bubbly, so I have no idea how long she’ll be able to keep her mouth shut; her voice is already growing louder.
“Tash, it doesn’t look like Josh is going to make it tonight. We’ve been here over an hour and some of us are starting to get hungry.” Dad’s voice sounds almost apologetic. “Would you be okay if we ordered starters?”
I nod, trying to look enthusiastic, but feel flat and teary-eyed. I was so looking forward to tonight, to Josh coming home.
Dad catches the waitress as she passes our table.
“We’d like to order.”
She turns towards him. “Certainly, sir.”
She pulls a pen and pad from a small pocket at the front of her tunic.
Leaving an order of garlic mushrooms with Dad, I drop my napkin onto my seat and excuse myself. I sit on the toilet with the seat down. I don’t want to ruin Mum’s meal by constantly looking at my phone, but checking it here won’t hurt. Josh hasn’t texted back or attempted to call, so now beyond any kind of hope I turn the phone off. Tears sting the back of my eyes. I leave the cubicle, lean my hands on each side of a washbasin and stand staring into the mirror above.
The door swings open. I jump. It’s Danielle, in that signature black hat of hers. I look her up and down: Gucci top, Gucci jeans, the purse in her handbag is even designer. High maintenance sums her up perfectly.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
She walks up behind me and slaps me on the back.
“Tonight’s going to be a fucking disaster.”
She flicks her hat off her head, ruffling her short blonde hair into place.
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Tash, don’t tell me you haven’t seen.”
I turn to face her. “Seen what?”
“Your mum; she hasn’t stopped winking at me.”
I screw up my nose. “Why would Mum be winking at you?”
“Have you seen Adrianna?”
I laugh. “Yeah, me and the whole fucking restaurant.”
“Exactly! You couldn’t call her inconspicuous. Who made her up? What the hell was she thinking?”
I shrug. “I’ve really no idea, but Mum’s on her fifth glass and the way she’s acting I’d say that’s one glass too many.”
God, if Josh were here now…
I think of Josh and Mum together, with Mum on the drink and Josh’s wacky sense of humour; perhaps it was a good thing his plane was delayed.
“I’ll make my excuses, say I’m feeling a bit under the weather and will call it a night. I know Adrianna will tag along so her feelings will be spared. Problem sorted, eh?”
“Guess so.”
She glances at herself in the mirror, pinches her cheeks with her fingers and walks to the door.
“Danielle,” I call after her.
Grasping the handle, she turns back.
“You will look after her … and the baby, won’t you?”
“Of course! I only ever mess up once. This time we’re for keeps, and anyway, I can’t afford another new wardrobe,” she jokes, closing the door behind her.
I only manage one of the six breaded mushrooms on my plate; the rest I fork around between lettuce leaves. I’ve only been back at the table five minutes when I hear Danielle feign a headache, rubbing her temples with her eyes partially closed.
In the next moment, warm hands cover my face. I jerk free and glance over my shoulder.
“Josh!” I squeal.
I literally jump out of my seat, launching myself into his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist and plaster his face in kisses.
He jolts his head away. “Tash, not here.”
His hands loosen and I feel myself sliding down his silk shirt. My feet are back on the floor. It’s only been a few weeks, but it feels like he’s grown. But it’s me who’s shrunk as a result of wearing my more sensible heels, compliments of Gabriel.
“I didn’t think I’d make it, but happy birthday, Coral. Here, a little something for you.” He kisses her cheek.
I look at the gift that he hands her, which is wrapped beautifully, and think by its shape it must be a strange-looking cow. Mum thanks him and uses her fingernails to pick at the Sellotape while Josh has a quiet word with Dad.
Shit, Josh’s eyes and expression!
“Wow, Adrianna!” He leaps behind her chair. “If I thought tonight was going to be fancy dress I’d have ordered myself something a little more flashy,” he grunts, tugging at her top. “A clown’s outfit, was it?”
