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That’s why I want her to see what I’ve brought. I want her to understand what’s going on. That is if I can explain it, because I for one am baffled as shit. It’s better if I just cut to the chase.
“I’ve got something to show you,” I say, and move from the bed.
Pulling the sketch out of my shoulder bag, I hold it close as I sit back on the bed. I can tell I’ve piqued her curiosity.
“What's that?” she asks, sitting up.
“Listen, about this morning, I know I left in a hurry—”
“I’ll say you did. In fact, I was kind of surprised when I saw you at my door today. I thought your hasty exit was a way of saying, ‘see you later, bye.’
“No, that’s not it,” I say.
Katherine looks vulnerable, and a little hurt. It’s the last thing I want because I need her to understand what’s happened to me since I met her.
“You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. I’m a big girl. I know what I’m getting into with you.”
“It’s really not like that...I mean…awww, hell…”
How do I explain to her what I’m feeling when I don’t evenknowwhat I’m feeling? This is so completely new to me I’m at a loss for words, a rarity in my life. I need to move this thing along before it gets any more uncomfortable for us.
“Here,” I say, handing her the sketch.
I'm expecting a reaction from her, some form of expression, anything. A moan, a grunt, a sigh, but all I’m getting is silence. Ten seconds…twenty seconds…a minute…
“Say something,” I finally blurt out, with a hint of exasperation in my voice.
“I’m…I…I’m not sure what to say.”
“Well, do you like it?”
“When did you draw this, when I was sleeping?” she asks. And I can’t tell if she’s annoyed or elated because neither her voice nor her face register any emotion.
“Yes but, actually, it’s from memory. See, that’s why I didn’t wait for you to wake up. I was in the studio all morning.”
Katherine purses her lips and looks out the window and I feel as if I’m losing her. I reach out for her, putting my hand on her thigh because I want to keep this connection between us. I want Katherine, I want this, I want the painting to come to life, I want all of it. So I tell her the truth.
“You’ve sparked something inside of me that I thought was dead.”
She raises an eyebrow and stares at me.
“What?” I ask.
“This sketch…”
I can see she’s searching for what to say.
“…it’s so personal.”
For a moment I don't know how to respond.
“It's what I see,” I finally offer. "You’re a beautiful woman. And I know that's like, the oldest cliché of all time, but it's true.
“So here’s the thing,” I look into her chocolate-brown eyes and I'm momentarily lost. “I've got to have you.”
Now she laughs in earnest. “You just did, and I’m not quite ready for another go.”
Smiling, I shake my head, “No, I mean I need you to pose for me.”
