Let Me Be Your Truth

by Lynsey M. Stewart

  I sat at my dressing table and pulled my long hair out of the high ponytail that I wore to work and started to brush it gingerly. ‘Maybe you should go and see a—’

  ‘Why?' he said before I had the chance to finish my sentence.

  ‘I'm not implying you have a problem, but it may be an idea just to go and have a talk—’

  ‘No. I’m fine. Once the open day at the allotment is over, this won’t be a problem,’ he said urgently, as if he was trying to convince himself.

  I looked at him in the mirror and couldn't help but compare him to the man who had been occupying my thoughts. The man I had been studying for weeks, and the man who had set a trail of goosebumps down my spine that hadn't yet faded away.

  I hadn’t really noticed before, but although Steve spent a great deal of time outside, he was very pale in complexion, including the bare bottom that was flashing itself in front of me as he reached down to put on his thermal socks. For a man who had an obsession with cycling and whose staple diet was butternut squash and quinoa, he also had a tiny bit of a paunch going on. His curly brown hair was slightly unruly and had a habit of frizzing at the ends. I always thought of it as allotment hair and forgave his appearance when I imagined him braving the elements and digging over his turnip patch.

  ‘Let me get through the next couple of weeks. I promise I’ll make it up to you,’ he said as he kissed me on the forehead, gathered his belongings and left me thinking about a certain tattooed painter for the night.

  Chapter Six

  ‘OK. Shall we make a start? Hi. People. Hello!’ I was standing at the front of the art room in front of nine people who were all chattering and setting up their easels for the art session today. The first art therapy session that I was leading by myself. Why did I agree to this again?

  Ruth had given me a few tips, but for the most part, she left me to use my ideas and creativity. I felt that the right place to start would be trying to get to know the regular artists better so that I could see their range of skill. I didn't want to push them too far and break their confidence so early on. After reading a book that Ruth had given me about art therapy and addiction, I remembered that building confidence was an essential element of the treatment. Art gave them a focus, something else to channel their souls into, but it also helped improve how they saw themselves.

  ‘Hey, are we ready?' No one looked up or stopped their chatter. I was beginning to edge towards the door, fighting my urge to run when Danny walked in. He dropped his bag and a motorcycle helmet under an easel and walked towards the front of the class. After all that rubbish about me assuming he was part of the art therapy class, I had been spot on. ‘Ready? Hello!'

  ‘You’re going to need to speak louder than that, princess.’ Princess? What was that supposed to mean? ‘Not a great a start,' he said, shaking his head dramatically. He picked up a brush from the table behind me. ‘No one is listening to you.' He came behind me and reached for a paint palette from the wall cupboard. ‘Perhaps I am, though.' He moved in closer, brushing his face against my neck. ‘Can't help but notice you in that skirt,' he said before swaggering back to his easel. He sat on a stool with his legs spread wide and a cocky smile on his arrogant face. God, he was so annoying with his firm thighs and beautiful tattoos. I would slap that smile off his face but he'd probably bloody like it. Why was he staring at me with his gorgeous dark brown eyes and long eyelashes? He’s trying to distract me. Yes, that’s it. Ignore him and carry on.

  ‘Can we make a start?’ Nothing. Kill me now, because I had a feeling this was going to be a long, drawn out death. Danny smirked, looked from left to right and shrugged his shoulders mockingly. It lit a fuse I didn’t know I had. ‘OK, people!’ I shouted, banging a vase on the table several times until all eyes were on me. Danny raised his eyebrows and hid his smile behind his hand.

  ‘Thank you.' I frowned and dropped my head as the enormity of what I was doing started to sink in. ‘I'm looking forward to getting to know you all better. I'm nervous, as you can probably tell.' Danny rolled his eyes, but everyone else offered encouraging smiles. ‘For our first class together, I want you to create an expressive self-portrait that focuses more on what you have to offer on the inside rather than just your outer, physical appearance. This is an excellent exercise to do when you feel like part of your life is ending and you're not sure where you're going next. I'm sure we can all relate to that at some point even if we're not in that place now.' Most of the artists nodded their heads in agreement. ‘Just remember when you're painting to ask yourself questions such as “Who am I right now?” and “Who do I want to become?”'

  ‘Hey, princess,' Danny shouted from the back of the room. ‘What if we don't want to do that? Cause…I don't.'

  ‘Firstly, don’t call me princess. My name’s Kate.’ Breathe. ‘Secondly, do you have a reason for not wanting to participate in the exercise?’

  ‘Yep.’ He folded his arms. ‘I do.’

  ‘Go on.’ He clearly didn’t appreciate my art skills, but if I wasn’t mistaken, he was definitely appreciating my bum again.

  ‘It's a sad cliché. Highlights your inexperience. Next you'll be asking us to use red paint so that we can get our anger out and onto the safe space of a canvas. It’s bullshit,’ he replied.

  ‘It’s about self-expression. Isn’t that important as an artist?’ I asked.

  ‘I know myself. I know my talents.’

  ‘Let’s see then,’ I replied, challenging his bravado.

  ‘I have many talents, princess. I couldn’t possibly show you them all.’

  ‘Don't call me princess.' I crossed my arms and met his stare until I had no option but to look away. I was sure the hard stare he was throwing my way would burn through me if I looked at him long enough. Danny Benedichi should come with a warning: Do not look directly into his eyes because if you do, you will be completely blinded by his arrogance.

  After ten minutes, I started to walk around to look at the artwork, offering suggestions and asking individuals to explain their ideas further. They were all expressive and I took pleasure in giving them positive feedback. I knew I was delaying getting to Danny. I had no idea what lay behind the easel, if anything at all. When I reached him, he stepped back. On the canvas was a large pastel pink pig, beautifully crafted with deep strokes and confident lines. A mixture of deep and light colours made the pig look like it was looking out, staring at me directly. The large snout painted to look far too big for its face featured largely in the middle. It was adorable but not what I was expecting from him. Despite the random theme, he had significant talent.

  ‘A pig?’ I raised my left eyebrow. ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘What are your qualifications?' he asked, wiping the brush on an old piece of cloth. I tilted my head and pursed my lips. ‘I mean, do you have an art therapy degree? Surely you do? You couldn't lead a class without it, could you?'

  ‘Do you want me to comment on your painting or not?’ I matched his condescending tone.

  ‘I don’t need you to tell me its good. I know that already,’ he replied. ‘Answer my question.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘What. Are. Your. Qualifications?’

  ‘I'm not a qualified art therapist, as you know,' I gulped. ‘But I enjoy painting, and with my social work background, I feel I can bring something different. Ruth has been kind enough to allow me to help out and…I'm enjoying it immensely so far,' I replied sarcastically. Not like me at all, but when I saw a flash of a smile from him, it fuelled my confidence. ‘I may not be qualified, Danny, but I know talent when I see it.'

  ‘I was expecting a more thorough critique.’

  ‘OK. Well, at the start of the class, I asked you to do an expressive self-portrait, and I think you've done exceptionally well.'

  ‘Really?’ he replied, his tone mockingly bored.

  ‘Absolutely,’ I replied. ‘A pig represents you perfectly.’

  I walked away and tried to hide my smile, particularly when he tried, b
ut failed, to hide his.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Steve would like to know if you want any courgettes. He’s had a bumper crop and doesn’t know what to do with them,’ I said, sitting down at the table in Carlo’s Italian with the girls, a restaurant that we loved so much.

  ‘Fuck me. Does he ever stop talking about vegetables?’ Abi asked as she summoned Carlo over with a flirty wink. On paper, our friendship shouldn’t have worked. She didn’t have a brain to mouth filter and threw in an exceptionally creative curse every other word. I thought through everything that left my mouth and felt guilty if I uttered bloody balls after a particularly bad day. ‘I’ll have a Pimm’s.’

  ‘White wine spritzer for me. Plenty of spritz,’ I smiled as I closed the menu. ‘I’m craving a steak. Big, thick, juicy and pink on the inside. Just enough blood so I can soak it up with my chips.’

  ‘Do I have to watch you eat that?’ Gem grimaced.

  ‘Is Steve turning you to raw meat? Have they found you in the local butcher’s gnawing at a steak with your teeth?’ Abi laughed.

  ‘I’m getting withdrawals. I swear I was sweating and hallucinating about chicken drumsticks the other day,’ I said, rolling my eyes.

  ‘I can forgive his veggie preference, but what I can’t forgive is his tendency to fall on the side of slightly dull.’

  ‘Not dull. Just passionate about his hobby.’

  ‘Passionate. Now there’s a word I never thought I’d hear to describe Steve. Is he passionate in other departments besides food?’ Abi asked.

  ‘Specifically?’ I replied, drawing out the word because I knew exactly where she was going.

  ‘Oh, here we go!’ Gem laughed. ‘I can sense a discussion about sex. Don’t you think of anything else, Abi?’

  ‘Sex is an important part of life, Gem. Or have you forgotten?’ Gem threw her napkin at Abi’s face as she removed her tongue from the side of her mouth. ‘As I was saying, how are things in the bedroom? Can he fuck like his life depends on it? Does he make up for the lack of meat in your diet with a whole lot of meat in your sex life?’ she smiled.

  ‘I was going to order the Italian sausage with peppers, but you've put me right off,' Elle chimed as she eyed the menu.

  ‘Well?’ Abi continued.

  ‘Erm…not exactly.’

  ‘I knew it! I've seen him in those union jack cycling shorts and, fucking hell, he has nothing to manoeuvre out of the way of his saddle, if you know what I mean.' Abi arched an eyebrow.

  ‘Just because Jamie’s hung like a horse and you’re all smug about it doesn’t mean you can judge Steve’s…willy size,’ I whispered into the menu.

  ‘We can handle average size. God knows, Gem did.' Gem guffawed into her second glass of wine at Abi's reference to her ex-husband. ‘You know, we could all be completely wrong about this pairing. For all we know, his abundance of courgettes could be being used in the bedroom,' Abi laughed. ‘He doesn't need to worry about cock size when he could use his prize-winning marrow!'

  ‘Wrong about the pairing; what does that mean?' I asked, narrowing my eyes. Abi immediately looked down at the table and Elle started blushing.

  ‘We don’t mean anything. If you're happy and you get all the feels, then we're happy too,' Gem replied for all of them.

  ‘How am I supposed to know what the feels are?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, it’s a connection. A spark. Something you can’t explain. It’s always there pulling you together and driving you out of your mind with anticipation,’ Abi replied.

  ‘Someone’s getting some when you get home tonight,’ Gem laughed.

  ‘Fuck, yes. Hurry up and eat your moo-ing steak,' Abi smiled before sinking back into her chair, full of resentment that we had dragged her away from the love of her life for a few hours.

  ‘Honestly, I don't think I've had that,' I said, deep in thought as I finally started to admit that I'd never felt the same kind of knicker-melting until they're ripped off, heart-stopping, blush-inducing, heat in the nether region passion that Abi and Elle spoke so highly of.

  ‘What? Never?’ Gem asked.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I said, thinking through the back catalogue and trying to pluck out a memorable experience.

  Danny and his tattoos. Danny and his chest. Danny’s fire for art.

  ‘What about Stuart? He seemed keen,’ Abi said.

  ‘No, he wasn’t very experimental in the bedroom. He liked to be on top and very rarely varied from that,’ I replied.

  ‘Wow. Sounds like a sexual deviant right there, Kate. I have no idea why you split up,' Abi said sarcastically before nudging me with her elbow. ‘Who stands out as the one that pressed all the buttons firmly? Who hit the spot perfectly? Who licked your pussy like a starved man? Thanks, Carlo.' Carlo walked away after placing Abi's plate of bolognese in front of her, catching the end of the conversation. He had a habit of appearing with our food just at the tail end of a dirty story. He was shaking his head and speaking softly in Italian.

  ‘I’ve never had a boyfriend who enjoyed…doing that.’

  ‘What the actual fuck? No one? No, no, no.’ She placed her knife and fork down on the table. ‘You’ve never had a man press your oral sex buttons?’ I shook my head. ‘Never enjoyed oral sex?’ Another firm shake. ‘Have you ever enjoyed sex?’ Silence. ‘Never felt a man kiss your neck in a way that made you want to thrust your vagina directly onto his erect penis?’ She was saying this all at the same time as the finger from her left hand was jabbing the circle she was making with the other.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Fuck. I’m speechless. Jamie lives to eat my pussy.’

  ‘Too much info. I've got supervision with him on Monday. Now all I'll be able to picture is his head between your legs,' I grimaced. ‘I've had bad experiences when it comes to…that. Remember Gaz?' They collectively groaned. ‘He put me off oral sex for life.'

  ‘Why?’ Elle asked.

  ‘He said he didn’t like too much wetness.’ They were quiet. ‘He handed me a tissue to wipe myself before he would go down there.’

  ‘My poor baby, come here,’ Abi said as she pushed my head into her chest. ‘What have you been doing with these fucking losers?’

  ‘I don't know. I guess I just get comfortable. I find it hard to end things,' I replied honestly.

  ‘What about the things you enjoy doing to a man? I know you hate giving blowjobs,' she said, wafting her hands. ‘Blinded by pre-come I think were the words you used. Take it from me; you haven't been blowing the right jobs. Thanks, Carlo,' Abi said as he brought over the garlic bread.

  ‘I’m banning you from here, Abi Sinclair. You’re going to scare my customers away.’ Carlo was dramatic with every movement as he pointed his palms up to the sky in frustration. I saw the smirk as he went behind the bar.

  ‘It’s a good job we’re your only customers then,’ she shouted back at him. ‘Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. What’s your party trick?

  ‘I should have a party trick?’

  ‘I mean what do you do to a guy that makes his legs tremble? Perhaps Steve likes a cheeky rub to the perineum?’ She looked at my wide eyes. ‘Gentle finger up the bottom when he’s about to come? No? What about a courgette? Carrot?’ I started to laugh behind my hand as Abi kept up her deadpan delivery.

  ‘He hasn’t been able to get it up the last couple of times.’ I immediately covered my mouth with my hand after letting too much information go.

  ‘Shut the fucking front door,' Abi said as she clutched onto my arm. ‘Years of crap, passionless sex and now a boyfriend who can't even maintain an erection. Thanks, Carlo.' He couldn't contain his laughter as he placed a jug of water on the table.

  ‘My bambino,' he said as he clutched my chin in his hand and turned to me. ‘You need to find a new man. You're a beautiful girl. Bellissimo,' he said as he kissed his fingers. ‘You deserve passion. Dump the sorry excuse for a man.' Carlo had hated Steve ever since the moment he asked if they could replace the beef bolognese with a
tofu alternative. When Carlo told him that wasn't possible, Steve asked what the vegetarian options were. Carlo replied, ‘Chicken salad without the chicken.' They finally served him tomato sauce on top of a bowl of spaghetti and told him to enjoy.

  ‘I’m so glad I got you a vibrator for your birthday. You need to keep the clit alive and well with a daily dose of orgasm,’ Abi said.

  I screwed up my face and put my hand on my forehead. ‘It’s still in the gift bag. Never touched.’

  ‘Your poor vag,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘Come on. This is serious. I’m sensing a pattern here. Are you attracted to the mediocre?’ Gem smiled as Abi lifted her hand for a high five.

  ‘Hey! This isn’t helping, is it?’ Elle chastised them with her death stare. ‘Do you love him? I mean, are there real feelings there?’

  ‘He has some wonderful qualities, including a commendable reputation in the community. He's very well liked and he enjoys volunteering for local causes, which you don't see a lot in men our age—’

  ‘I didn’t ask you for his CV. I asked if you loved him,’ Elle smiled. I dropped my head and started fiddling with the napkin on my lap. ‘Kate, if you don’t love him and your sex life has no passion, can I ask why you’re still together?’

  I put my head on the table. ‘I need to talk to him. End it properly. I've been putting it off; I know I have.'

  ‘Don't feel bad about ending it. It's worse to let it carry on just because that's the easiest option. You've done that with all of your boyfriends.'

  ‘That's not true, Elle. A couple of them ended it before I built up the courage.'

  ‘Have you ever been in love?’ she asked, ignoring my uncomfortable flapping.

  ‘Daniel was nice.’

  ‘Nice? Is that all?’ she asked.

  ‘My parents liked him.’ And that was important, right?