THE PAINTING
The brush in his hand blurred on the canvas, the lines of a girl’s face. The strokes were subtle...soft lines that met harmoniously.
His eyes followed the movement of hand and brush, creating in the blank space, shapes, emerging eyes, nose, mouth, ears... a rounded chin, a heart-shaped face...
His hand moved the brush accompanying a classical melody on the record player.
The room wasn’t large and the small window wasn’t enough to cool it. It was a bit warm, which accentuated the smell of paint.
He kept moving, as if in a delirium, transferring the image from his mind onto the canvas. The image of the girl who had inhabited his mind since he saw her the first time.
It was at the very beginning of first year Fine Arts, and at that moment, a strong feeling sprang up in his heart.
In his twenty two years of age he had fallen in love a few times, but this time it was something different.
It was something he couldn’t explain, something that took over his mind, body and soul.
He was sitting under a tree looking at the landscape around him when she appeared, walking along the pavement that led to one of the college buildings.
Her long hair and dress swayed in the wind and she held a briefcase against her chest. Graceful movement on her heels.
He was mesmerised by the sight. His eyes followed her until she disappeared into the building.
She was a Drama student, as he found out later.
She had lots of friends and he, few. Most of the time he was alone, always with drawing material in his backpack, in case he found something that inspired him. She was indeed an inspiration…
The face was beginning to have colours, ivory, pale pink of the skin, blue of the iris, red of the lips, light brown of the eyebrow and eyelashes.
His forehead was sweating.
He stopped for a moment, took a few steps back and looked attentively at what he was portraying.
Then he caught his breath again and put his eagerness to the brush, as if wanting to bring to life what he was painting.
The hair in golden-brown waves was flowing down around her long neck and shoulders, framing the pretty face...
He had seen her many times, occasionally looking at her intensely, memorising every detail of her face.
She was always surrounded by her college mates.
She didn’t seem to notice or maybe she pretended not to. She didn’t look at him straight away, but if she did she would have seen in his eyes his feelings for her.
He wasn’t like the other boys, and if some day she realised he was there, she would first need to understand him and learn how to communicate with him.
If one day, she came close to him, she would hear his heart beating for her…
Seeing her almost every day was a gift and a torture, when he saw her talking to another boy.
He would wish it were him.
At night, he would dream about her, kiss her, hug her and wake up later sweaty as if they had had torrid and intense moments, somehow they would be real, because the proof would be in a malformed circle in the sheets…
After, he would see her and think she was the most perfect girl in the world... if only she would look at him, realise his existence...
The image that could now be seen on the canvas was hauntingly real.
The eyes seemed alive and for the first time were staring at him. He was not an ugly boy, on the contrary, quite cute. Perhaps her portrait now perceived that. He smiled at her, and in his reverie, she smiled back.
He went on to frantically stroke the canvas. Below the neck and shoulders, he was creating the body he imagined there would be.
She was surging on the canvas, seductive contours, concave and convex, irregular and perfect at the same time.
He glided the brush, as if walking softly over valleys and hills, and paused purposefully lingering on a beautiful lawn…
All around him, a mess. There were tubes of paint scattered on a stained old table and multi-coloured splashes everywhere.
His body was wet with sweat and his throat was so dry.
He seemed to like what he saw...he imagined her, on the cinema screen, beauty shown in great proportion…
He would probably put the painting, after it was dry, in his room, so that he could appreciate it before going to sleep…
After quenching his thirst, he needed a shower.
He took off his clothes in the blink of an eye, and let the water fall over him, while thinking about the girl.
He closed his eyes, imagining her there with him.
As if his hands were hers, he started to lather himself with light movements, exploring every part of his body.
While one hand moved to more sensitive parts, the other began a more phrenetic movement. He delighted in the sensation and enjoyed the ecstatic pleasure…
When he returned from the shower, passing by the studio, he was startled when he saw his mother standing there, looking at the canvas.
He felt embarrassed, because it was as if she was discovering a secret of his, besides, the painting was too erotic, a young woman with an almost angelic face, smiling like a Mona Lisa, and exhibiting her naked body.
His mother turned to him, he was near the door, afraid to enter. She asked him, gesturing with her hands and head, what is this?
He tried to explain, but he was nervous and she didn’t understand exactly what he was trying to say...
“Girl...college...student...”
His mother, realized then that her son liked that girl, but she was still surprised by the image there in front of her.
“Have you known each other for long? Are you dating?”
He denied with his head.
She knew that he had never dated anyone. Of this she was sure, because she had always been very protective, and knew everything that happened to him. Well, that’s what she thought...
Her son had grown up and she didn’t realise it. It was more than natural that he would respond to the beckoning of nature, but even so, she worried, afraid that he could be hurt by someone. But one day he would have to walk with his own legs.
He looked apprehensively at his mother, wishing she would leave.
“Do you like her a lot?”
There was no need for him to answer. In his eyes, his mother could see that what he felt could be much more than a simple infatuation.
Three days later, fate conspired in his favour. There were few students in the cafeteria. She was chatting with a girl. No more students around her.
From a distance he couldn’t hear well; his hearing wasn’t very good, but he was an expert at reading people’s lips.
They seemed to be discussing a study topic. The other girl opened a book and pointed to a page. She then, his muse, began to read something...
He remembered her voice, from the few times, when she had passed very close to him. It was a soft voice...
She realised, at a given moment, that he was concentrating, looking at her reading the book. He lowered his head, taken by surprise...
When he looked back in her direction, she was staring at him and smiling...
For the first time, she noticed him. He tensed and managed to smile back, shyly...
Perhaps there was a chance for him...
His heart leapt with hope...
He closed his eyes for a few seconds, imagining a scene, where he and she, would be together in the future...
He would hear her saying that she loved him, but he was saddened as he remembered that even if one day he expressed his love to her, one thing was certain...
No matter how much he wanted to, he would never be able to utter the words I love you to her, but, he could certainly and at least, express his love through his eyes and hands...
