It's my secret. I don't take it out often as I don't want to damage it. In fact this is only for the fourth time. It's an original. Pulling it from the cardboard canister, I unravel the heavy paper with utmost care, clipping each corner to the easel with clothes pegs to stretch it flat. I don't dare hang it on the wall nor have it framed. Putting it on display would require too much explaining to anyone who might regard it. It's abstract yet it's not, shapes boldly stroked and colors filled passionately, and for those who know me, the resemblance is obvious.
My hair is yellow and gold and tan and streaked with orange and scarlet. My thin lips are a soft pink, just slightly agape showing the hint of a reddish brown mouth and stark white teeth. Gentle black slits form my closed eyes with smudges of peach anointing my lids beneath my thin tangerine brow. My skin is a soft ochre, lightened with white and stroked sparingly with random colors, a turquoise bolt across my cheek, a violet zigzag beneath my chin. I contrast with him, the dark hair of the back of his head in heavy browns and black tousled savagely, my fingers digging in, the tip of my fourth finger emerging between coarse locks, the point of my nose nuzzling delicately there. The lithe contours of his upper back and shoulders in a mild copper are dashed with hints of green and teal. His arm reaches up to entwine fingers with my other hand, proving the difference in our skin tones all that more stark. Beneath it my underarm is shaded in a ruddy smear of orange and my slight breast is pale again in comparison, but enrouged with a smear of rose around my small nipple that stands out in vivid fuchsia, the tight areola concentric to the rounded shape of flesh.
uno
We were in Spain. It was beautiful day by the waterfront in Almería and we had done the beach the day before and then gone out for dancing and drinks in the evening, so we were taking an easy day. As many people do, Heidi and I were using a year off to see the world before going to college. In the fall we had done Japan Thailand and Australia. Then over the winter, we drove down through Texas and spent a month in Mexico. The final leg was Europe in the late spring and we were getting near the end of our two weeks along the Mediterranean. We had started in Greece, then took the ferry to Italy before working our way across through southern France. In a few days we would be flying off to Amsterdam to head home.
We went out for lunch at a tapas bar and on the way back to the hotel we heard strings. Coming around the corner, we saw the artists' walk stretched out before us on the chalky terra-cotta-bricked waterfront. There was a painter with watercolors. Next there was a comic strip artist. The string quartet that had summoned us was there - two men and two women playing a small concerto. The small ring of spectators gathered around and we joined them. We took it all in for several minutes as they finished up the piece and then everyone dropped some change or bills into their vase. Heidi made a donation and we moved along. The next girl dressed dolls with charming hand-sewn clothes. There was even a basket weaver forming amazing colorful works. Then we came upon another musical act, three young men who looked like gypsies played energetic flamenco on their guitars. They were very good. One had a dark soul patch. Another had a long flowing ponytail. Just as the string quartet, they too had gathered a small crowd. People tossed change into the open guitar cases and applauded between numbers. Moving right into the next song without looking up or engaging, they seemed a bit distant and aloof with their subtle attitude and had their CD prominent on the front next to a small sandwich sign with their name '¡Brío!' and a URL for their website. They were cute guys, rather sexy in their Bohemian beach hippie style and Heidi especially liked the shaggy blond one, although he seemed to pay her nor anyone else any mind. We stayed for three or four songs. There were no lyrics but they did stop to clap or thump the wood of their guitars here and there as parts of the hooks of the songs. Usually they took turns on solo lead runs as the other two kept up the lively rhythm.
That was when I saw him. As I looked to Heidi, over her shoulder was a portrait artist. He sat on a small backless chair and a few feet in front of him was a couple on their own little stool. The girl sat across her lover's lap and they had their arms around each other. The image was sweet but they were boring. The artist was captivating. He held some sort of clipboard by the top and anchored the bottom in his lap as his drawing arm moved with fluid efficiency to shape their likeness.
His hair was dark, not curly not straight, just thick tufts with sunglasses perched atop his head holding them back from his eyes. His brow was focused and the corner of his mouth held a confident hint of a smile. Behind him was an umbrella tent with displays of portraits in vivid colors. He wore a shirt loose and open half-buttoned and hanging off of his body. His skin was smooth and olive-toned, just a shade lighter than the plain tan brown of his shirt. His jaw was tapered and handsome and his lips were full and pretty. He looked up and saw me. I blushed. He smiled.
Heidi's soft dimpled face was framed with light brown hair in two braids down the front of her chest and was topped with her favorite baseball cap. It was blue and had a red C on the front for Chicago. Despite my protests that it gave us away as American tourists, she wore it often as some sort of badge of allegiance. She had a pale orange tee shirt under faded blue short leg overalls and gym shoes. My ginger skin required more sun cover so I had a sun hat and a long white broomstick skirt. My blouse was powder blue and white striped and hung loose, untucked and mostly unbuttoned over a white sports bra.
The flamenco troupe finished and the small crowd applauded as they packed up their things.
"Okay, let's go," said Heidi. I was disappointed but was rather embarrassed to admit why. "We got our lunch. We got our fresh air. I need to sleep off the rest of this hangover," she pressed the issue. We moved on towards the hotel but I kept glancing back at the artist as he sketched the couple until we turned the corner and he was out of sight.
"That guitar player was hot but I just don't have the energy," said Heidi as we entered the lobby.
"He was all right," I shrugged.
"Okay then, who did you see?" she needled me. She knew me too well.
"There was a sketch artist," I said quietly. She looked at me as we entered the elevator and the doors closed.
"Ooh, you're blushing," Heidi grinned. I covered my face with my hand. "I think I saw him," she continued. "He was drawing that couple?"
"M-hm."
"I didn't get much of a look at him," she said. "Was he that hot?"
"Yuh," I affirmed almost silently.
Back in the room, we were both a bit tired. The end of the trip was nearing. We had a bus ride in the morning to see some tunnels and then on to Málaga for lunch and then further to Gibraltar. Heidi had it all planned out. Her older sister Kelly was a travel agent and got us some tours and all the deals.
"Two more days and then off for the last weekend in Amsterdam and then a stop in London and then home," she sighed as she flopped onto the bed.
I stretched out on my bed too and my eyes shut comfortably, but my mind was restless. I just knew that I would regret not trying to at least meet him. I could get my portrait done. I had to go back.
dos
Heidi had nodded off. It didn't take her very long. She was sprawled on her back and zonked right out. I got up and went to the bathroom. My hair was all right, blonde with a hint of strawberry but things were a bit unruly so I gave it all a quick combing. It was a little windy outside anyways. I had no makeup on. I needed to fix that, so I added a little peach eye shadow and black mascara. Then I blinked my pale blue eyes and felt satisfied before adding a touch of beige lip gloss. My ginger skin was light and flecked here and there with tiny marks and freckles. I took a long look at my narrow jaw, my thin face, all my imperfections and smirked. I supposed that I looked fine enough. There was no time for a beauty salon treatment. He could have been packing up to leave at that very moment and I would have lost him forever. I unbuttoned my blouse and knotted it to show some midriff and a small hint of my white ribbed sports bra. Then I folded my sleeves up to my elbows and grabbed my bag and white sun hat.
