The days that followed Jean’s visits were mostly spent in silence. The only sounds that could be heard were the records Linda would play while she painted the man and the soft shuffling of feet and sometimes, frustrated groans for when Jean suddenly moves and gets out of pose. At times she would ask him some questions and he would with her as well. Nothing too personal. Both kept their boundaries with each other and treated it as nothing but mere work.
At times, Linda would offer to treat him to dinner at the pub where they met but a number of times, Jean would decline. He simply didn’t want to overstep on her kindness. But on the rare times that he would accept the offer, such as that exceptional night, he was livid. He had already come in with a hot head and just went straight to the pose they had been working on for some days now. But the alcohol in his system seemed to have just amplified his anger.
“I just don’t get it!” Jean was basically fuming as he downed probably the fifth glass of wine for that evening. Linda should remember his low tolerance for another time.
“And what’s been bothering you today?” She would intently gaze at him from the corner of her eye yet she tried her best not to face his way. She knew how much he hated attention when she wasn’t painting him and it showed how much he fidgeted and seemed to shrink under her gaze.
“You. Work. The newspaper publishing house. My life. Everything”
“That’s a lot. But what’s with me?”
He snorted and the next thing she knew, he was glaring at her as if she was a criminal of sorts “Why do you say you want to draw me all the time. Are you some sort of pervert? Never have you shown me whatever it is you’ve been working on. Am I that ugly to be ridiculed like this?”
“You? Ugly?” It was her turn to speak now, after much whinings Jean had already made some 3 glasses since they started drinking. “You say you’re ugly?!?” She stood up and walked to one side of the room that was covered with a whilte cloth. As soon as she uncovered the two canvases that had been drying, Jean went silent. He stood and walked over to where Linda stood.
“These.. Are me..?” He stood in awe and wanted to touch the paintings had they not been wet
“These too” Linda handed him a small sketchpad. It looked pretty new at first glance but as soon as he flipped through the pages, he could see so many sketches of him there. While eating, while taking a break from some poses. A number of those he could remember based on the clothes he wore but some moments honestly went by unnoticed. Never had he seen himself in the eyes of another and for the first time since he came to Paris, he was sure he was doing things right.
“I think I’ll head home now. Thank you for the drink and your time.”
“I’ll walk you. You’re drunk and you might not get home. “ Linda was already getting her coat and scarf and this time, without hesitation, she helped Jean put on his coat. The man was still in a daze even as they walked and even as they arrived at the dorm he had been staying at. Although it was nothing more than a bed and a space for his trunk but it was still somewhere he always returned to.
They bid their goodnights yet Linda still lingered outside the dorm. The cold did not bother her one bit. It probably would bother Jean though with what looked like a lack of a heater or any thick blankets. But besides the thought, Linda couldn’t shake the idea that he might never see Jean again after tonight. Maybe he would see him in a different light from then on. He even refused the payment she was giving him for that day and kept repeating that it felt wrong to continue doing so any further.
I didn't get to draw today. I'm a dumdum that forgot all my art materials at the dorm but at least I have an idea on what to draw for the next chapter
will be waiting for the next chapter.. Jean thought that it was a waste of time, perhaps. thats why he became fussy after some days of not being allowed to see the output.. I became curious, bkit nga ba ayaw ipakita ng mga artists ang output nila?