Chasing His Muse

Laura finally left me alone with my book. I love my books, where I could escape from my reality into another world of people’s minds. Sometimes I would think, that was my therapy.

I would feel better in the inside minds of brilliant authors. Lost in fictions of heroes, knights, and kingdoms where all led up to bravery, strength, and persistence. I would get lost, and caught up in the story and found out another day had gone by, and the sky was getting darker.

That day I could feel, someone was watching me from the corner, as I was reading. But I kept on reading anyway, never minding others as I liked to be left alone.

Until Laura came to get me and ushered me back to my room. I passed the corner seat and saw a sketch, a beautiful sketch of a woman by the window reading a book with rays of sunshine highlighted her soft pale features. Laura saw to my direction and picked up the sketchbook.

“It’s Brenton’s, I should give it back to him. He was in a hurry when he left an hour ago. It’s beautiful tough, he really captured you beautifully, in this one.” She told me, I was a bit stunned but tried to appear casual. To which she laughed. Sometimes it was really surprising, how she knew and could read me so well.

The next day, Laura accompanied me to our group meeting, where we were supposed to share our issues with other patients there.

That day I was back to sheltering myself from others. Resisting every attempt from the group leader, to try and made me share and opened up to the group. I left the meeting still feeling the same sadness and helplessness.

I was so focused on my book, reading while walking to my favorite seat by the window. Until I smashed myself, into a body. I slowly looked up finding the tattooed handsome goodness’ face, he was smiling looking down at me. Looking amused, that I bumped into him.

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What? why? damn! It has been a really long time.

I quickly tried to get around him but, he held my stance. “Nicolette, I was hoping to talk to you. I saw your sketch. The strong strokes, composition, the passion is there. Why do you stop?” He took my book, marked it, and closed it.

He was taking my hand smoothly like he was used to handling fragile things. He led me to the garden, he informed Laura at the desk, that he was going to take a walk with me outside. She nodded and smiled at me. “Just bring her back, when she wants to Brenton. Take care of her, she’s my baby.” I pouted at her and she laughed.

We sat on the bench, he was waiting for me to talk. He didn’t push me, he just patiently waited for me.

“Collin, my husband. He made me quit painting. Sorry but I can’t paint, it reminds me of him. I don’t want to be reminded of him.” My body instantly shuddered, my tears trickled down my cheeks.

“Fuck! Sorry, I can’t do this. I don’t share. It hurts too much.” He held my hand in his. Kept rubbing it trying to calm me down. But didn’t say anything. He wiped my tears away and hugged me. Put his chin on top of my head, and keeps rubbing my back. I kept on staying still and didn’t say anything. I finally calmed down and he let me go.

“Do you want to read in my class? I’d like to paint you. May I? You can read anywhere you want, right? I like catching people’s expressions, and yours is a very honest one. The sadness it’s so deep, I need to paint it.” He caressed and stroked my cheek. He didn’t smile, he looked sad and understanding. But I could see that there was a wanting in his eyes. The need for my approval. I didn’t say anything to him. But it was like he could see it in my eyes.

He held out his hand, as I took his and followed him to his class. Laura looked at us, a bit taken back that I would follow him back to his class, after my last incident. He led me to sit on the stool, that he already moved to the center of the room. He gave me back my book and told me to continue reading it. While he got back behind the canvas and started painting.

I let him be, as I continued my reading. We stayed silent for almost two hours until he finally finished. His face was clear like he had accomplished something.

He came to me and held out his hand. His eyes were telling me to follow him, as I did. I looked behind the canvas. His strokes, his choices of colors it was genius. He was freaking talented. This was a gallery-quality painting. I knew this stuff, I went to school for this. Not many people could achieve this kind of art within a day, not to mention two hours.

“Why are you here? This is amazing, not many artists can achieve this kind of result in such a small amount of time.” I hovered my hand above his painting, catching the sadness in his strokes. My tears fell feeling the sadness in his painting. “Beautiful.” I couldn’t even bring my hand to touch the painting it was too beautiful.

He wiped my tears for the second time today. “You are beautiful. Even your sadness is beautiful. I would like to paint you again tomorrow.” He didn’t ask, just stated so. I nodded to his statement.

“Come, let me get you back to Laura. I should get going. I will see you again tomorrow. Keep on reading your books for now. It will keep your mind occupied from your husband, and your inner demons.” He rubbed my shoulder and slowly kissed my temple, as I closed my eyes feeling his warmth.

He left me with Laura. Thanking me for my time. And told Laura to spared me some time, in my schedule with him tomorrow. She smiled looking at me and back at him, and confirmed to him that she will do that.