Thursday at noon I picked up my ringing phone and saw Pete’s name come up.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi sweety, so sorry to do this last minute but I can’t make it today after all.’
‘Oh shit. Really?’
Damn, I’d really wanted to draw Pete today. I’d hyped myself up for it. But it was hardly a big deal, I’d just work from some previous sketches of him, or maybe do some more abstracts.
‘Okay. No worries,’ I continued.
‘Yeah, but I do have someone who’s keen to take my place, if you’re interested?’
Oh, this was interesting. I wondered if this someone was plump, like him.
‘He’s a great guy. A friend of mine. He’s a lawyer.’
‘Okay. Yes. Actually that would be great.’
‘His name’s Jack. Really nice guy. I’ll send you over his number in a sec.’
‘Yeah, okay, thanks Pete. Any friend of yours is fine by me. You know where to send him.’
The doorbell rang at 2:04. Slightly late. Typical for a newcomer. I waited a few seconds and then went to answer it.
‘Hello.’
‘Hi.’
‘Are you Silvia?’
‘Yep, and you’re Jack, right?’
For some reason I must have been expecting to open the door to a stocky, suit-clad middle-aged guy – a lawyer-type person – because I was more than a little surprised when I saw the man in front of me. He wasn’t plump like Pete at all, he was tall and athletic looking. Maybe early thirties, thereabouts. His hair was dishevelled and dark, and he had an unshaven stubbly face, slightly crooked teeth, but a big wide smile. He was wearing a plain white loose t-shirt, dark tracksuit bottoms, trainers and a backpack. Perhaps he’d just come from the gym.
Usually, when I first met a guy, one of the first things I thought was whether I could imagine us having sex. Not because I was sex-obsessed but because friendships weren’t an option in my life, so sex was the only pleasant thing a man could offer me. But today, I have to say, I didn’t seem to care so much. Maybe it was because of that stupid pill. I’d opened up the leaflet that morning and had read the long list of potential side effects. Loss of sex drive was one of them. Depression and teariness were also thrown in there for good measure. Great.
‘Come on in.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Thank you for stepping in for Pete by the way, especially at such short notice.’
‘Oh no, that’s totally fine. It’s kind of a random thing for me to do, but I like random. I’ve actually often thought this is something I’d like to try in the future,’ he paused and smiled at me, ‘especially since Pete said he’d started doing it.’
I smiled back.
I liked him. It’s not that I found him immediately attractive or anything like that. That’s not what I mean. I liked his way of being. There was something relaxing about his presence, something I couldn’t put my finger on, something that made me feel… good, that’s all.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘so long as you feel comfortable being naked, I don’t think we have a problem.’
We both laughed.
‘Well I can’t say I’m not a little bit nervous, but yes, totally fine being naked.’
‘Ah, there’s a first time for everything,’ I said, and then thought it sounded quite stupid. ‘In any case you can turn the heater up and down as you please,’ I continued, ‘God, I remember the first time I ever did it I was freezing, so I vowed to myself that no one I ever drew would have to go through that!’
Oh god, was I rambling?
‘Would you like a tea or coffee before we start?’
‘No, I’m fine thank you,’ he said, ‘I have some water in my bag.’
‘Ah okay, you just come from the gym?’ I asked, continuing the pointless chit-chat.
‘No, no, I’m not a gym person. I actually just came from an interview.’ He glanced down at his clothes. ‘I mean I dropped by home to get changed into something more comfortable. I hate suits. I have to wear them so often. It’s silly really, no idea why they make us wear that stuff. Anyway… interview… yeah I’ve been working freelance for a while and now I’m looking for something more permanent. Yeah, so no, I wasn’t at the gym.’
Now he was rambling.
‘Oh yeah, you’re a lawyer, aren’t you? Pete mentioned.’
I immediately regretted saying it. I didn’t particularly want to get into a conversation about what we did and who we were. He nodded and looked as though he was about to say something else, but I got there first: ‘Okay. Well let me introduce you to the stage,’ I said, faking a laugh.
I walked towards the large studio area: white sheets laid out across the floor and over the different levels of tables, stools, chairs and a mattress that made up the area where my subjects posed. Next to it stood a fan heater.
‘This is a nice place,’ he said.
That’s what everyone said.
‘Do you live here alone?’
‘Yes,’ I said, and then added, ‘I won’t be a minute!’
I rushed off to the bathroom to avoid any further questions. I didn’t feel like being my usual blunt self with him, so this momentary escape from the situation felt like my best option.
That was always the way: I don’t need to know much about you, and you don’t ask questions about me. Shallow stuff is okay, like what kind of tea I drink, or if I like it when they put jalapeños in salads, or if I think Leonardo DiCaprio is hot. That’s fine. Trivial stuff is totally fine. If you’re lucky I might even tell you I’m half Norwegian and half Mexican, but that’s only if you dare ask, of course. What an interesting mix, you’ll say. But other stuff, you know, stuff about my past, about my parents, how they met, if they live in this country, how on earth I afford such an expensive penthouse apartment… Don’t bother. Yet I knew they all wondered. I knew they all wanted to know how the hell a twenty-four-year-old girl could afford to live in such a place all by herself and still pay her clients a reasonable rate. I mean it’s not like I was an overwhelmingly successful artist. Not that they had to know that, of course.
When I returned after a couple of minutes he seemed to not have taken my sudden departure as weird in the least bit.
‘All right, so should I start getting, er, naked?’ he said.
‘Yes please!’ I said as I reached over for some charcoal. ‘And for the first sketch just do whatever you feel most comfortable with. Lie down, sit down, whatever, I honestly don’t mind.’
He was new to this, and I liked him, so I definitely wanted to make sure he felt comfortable.
‘I’ll just let you know later on when and if I want you to change position,’ I added.
‘Okay, great, so I suppose you’ll be forcing me to get into some kind of crazy yogic poses later then.’
‘Oh yeah, obviously! I’m just easing you in.’
We laughed.
He stood there naked, looking down at the white sheets and hesitating for a second because he didn’t know where to go. Then he chose the mattress and lay himself face down, propping his head up with his hands and staring out the window at the sky. That way, I got a view of the whole length of the left side of his lying body and a profile of his face. I could see how this would have been a comfortable option for him. There was no chance of his eyes meeting mine. At least he wasn’t cocky – Max had been overly confident from the start, keen to have his penis staring at me confrontationally from the very first day.
He carried on staring at the sky for ages. It was interesting to watch him. He didn’t say a word, but the silence wasn’t awkward and it didn’t seem to be coming from any kind of shyness or nervousness on his part. He didn’t tell me anything about himself and didn’t ask me any questions. It was interesting, and yet so strangely pleasant. I don’t know why, but I just felt so happy and relaxed watching him. What an odd and surprising feeling it was. I had to watch myself though, what if he suddenly turned to look at me? I didn’t want to be caught gazing and smiling at him. He’d think I was a pervert. But this had nothing to do with that. I just felt so untroubled and relaxed, like a child. How strange, yet how… lovely.
I looked at his face just as I was about to draw it and I realised that it had such a non-descript expression. He was just gazing at the sky in what seemed a very absent-minded way. There was no frown, no tension, no sign of worry. It was like he was sleeping with his eyes open. Could this be why I was feeling so good? Was there something in that relaxed face that was rubbing off on me? Who knew? But in any case I found myself smiling again.
After a few more poses and a few more sketches I asked him if he could put his clothes back on again.
‘I just want to do some sketches in clothes as well,’ I said.
I didn’t always just draw naked people. The truth is I wanted to draw his face, because it fascinated me a little. It inspired me. Of course, I didn’t tell him any of this because I was scared that if I did he’d suddenly become self-conscious and his expression would change.
People react differently to being naked in front of other people. Some people feel more comfortable with clothes on. I didn’t know if he was that type. It was his first time after all. Though generally the people who decided to pose naked didn’t seem to have a problem with it, and could be just as relaxed with or without their clothes. Some even seemed more relaxed in front of me when they were naked. I absolutely loved being naked. My human body was one of my greatest joys. I loved seeing it naked, feeling the smoothness and the curves. I loved it when my hair brushed my naked back. And I loved being naked with men, because I loved seeing the thing that I loved so much – my body – being enjoyed by others.
My body was the one thing I could share with others to bring them some kind of joy, which is why I loved and cherished it so much and why I had always shared it so freely. My mind was full of locked doors, but they couldn’t stop me sharing my humanness in other ways. I still wanted to give some kind of joy to the world, and my body was one way I could do this. A direct portal to joy.
Jack put his clothes back on calmly, like he was the master of his own time; unfazed, in his own world. I watched him from the corner of my eye, whilst wiping charcoal off my hands. I asked him to sit himself on the chair and to get into a comfortable position.
The next hour was bliss. The rare moment came. The sun drifted in through the windows. Rays of light hit the room and the objects in it. Dust particles glistened like fairy dust. Everything was transformed and alive, and I became completely absorbed in the large white piece of paper that floated, totally alive, in front of my eyes. I made my markings on the page and breathed a new world – a new reality – onto it. I created. And yet, once again, just like in such previous moments, it felt as though it wasn’t me who was drawing anymore. Drawing was simply happening. Those rare freeing moments of clarity and bliss that I experienced during the creative process were so powerful that, in an instant, they wiped away all the things I thought made me who I was. Flow.
I don’t think I’d ever before succeeded in drawing such a satisfying portrait. The two hours were over. I made us tea. He wanted to see the drawings. I hesitated, but only out of habit, for I was more than happy to show this new model. I turned the easel towards him as he walked towards it. He stared at it and was silent for a while.
‘Woah. That’s incredible.’
He looked overwhelmed. Either he really was or he was good at faking it.
‘Wow,’ he said.
He was looking at me now and grinning.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘That’s amazing. Not to say I didn’t expect it to be, but I just didn’t know…’
I laughed. I didn’t know whether to say it, as I thought he might think I was trying to make him feel special or something, but I said it anyway: ‘Thanks, I think this may be one of my favourite pieces.’
‘Can I see any of your other work?’
I hesitated, again out of habit. I mean, I suppose there was nothing to actually stop me from showing him. Why shouldn’t I? I didn’t have any secrets when it came to my art; I guess I just never showed many people, unless I was exhibiting of course.
‘I used to draw when I was younger,’ he said.
‘Oh yeah? How come you stopped?’
He shrugged. ‘Time, I guess.’ He paused, and then he laughed. ‘Whatever time is.’
I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I didn’t ask.
‘I write sometimes though,’ he said.
‘Oh yeah? What kind of stuff?’
‘Oh, well. I guess some people might call it poetry, but I don’t know… there’s usually no real structure to it. And I also dabble a bit with photography – especially underwater photography. But then, who isn’t a photographer these days, right?’ he said, and then, after a pause, he added, ‘but in any case, it’s nice to meet creative types.’
He looked at me and smiled. It seemed a warm thing to say, as though he was showing in some way that he liked me.
‘So,’ I said, ‘how did you find your first life drawing session?’
‘It’s funny,’ he said, ‘sitting and lying around like that for such a long time with nothing to do gives you a lot of time to think about a lot of things that you don’t usually get a chance to think about.’
‘Oh really? That’s strange, you looked like you weren’t thinking about anything at all.’
‘Really? Maybe because I was trying to meditate a bit as well,’ he said, laughing – as though he was judging himself for it.
‘Meditating?’
‘Yeah. I’m using the term loosely though.’
‘Did it work?’
‘Hmm. Not really. Maybe a little. I don’t know,’ he paused, looking out the window. ‘All I know is that I know nothing,’ he mumbled. Then he looked at me again. ‘Man, my mind’s frazzled. Sorry, I forgot what I was saying.’
‘Meditation.’
‘Oh, yes. I have mixed feelings about it. But I don’t quite know why I’m talking about that anyway,’ he said, trying to brush it all off. ‘This tea’s lovely by the way, thank you.’
I was intrigued. I felt such a huge desire to talk to him. Such a huge desire. I had never felt something quite like this before. I didn’t know whether it was to do with him, or me, or both of us. Fuck, it hurt so much. I wanted to cry. I would have given anything to be able to talk to him, and talk and talk and talk. Where had this sudden desire come from? I wanted to know his mind, more than I had ever wanted to know anyone else’s. But I couldn’t take without giving, could I?
We were silent for a while. And then something happened that I never in my life thought possible. Suddenly I felt I was stepping into a world that was both dangerous and exhilarating. And I didn’t know how I felt about it, but I felt I was mad.
‘Sounds like you have a lot on your mind?’ I said.
It was just a question. A normal question. More of a statement than a question, in fact. But I knew what that question meant. It meant opening up. It meant: you tell me about you, and I’ll tell you about me. It signified stepping into the unknown: a world that I didn’t have planned out, a world I knew nothing about and that could end in far more hurt and fear for me. It could end in violence. But in a moment of madness I found myself stepping into this world again, after seventeen long years. And suddenly it felt as though I was falling, tumbling through a chasm, utterly terrified and yet so incredibly alive. This was total madness. I had lost my mind, and yet I felt life pulsating in every bit of my body and telling me that this was exactly what I needed to do. Adrenaline. And then I saw stars; I heard a smash as my cup fell to the ground, the room went black and I fainted. All because of one trivial little question.
Five minutes later I was lying on the sofa regaining consciousness.
‘Thank god,’ he said, letting go of my hand. ‘I honestly thought I’d have to call an ambulance.’ He smiled at me. ‘You took your time.’
‘Sorry,’ I mumbled.
‘Don’t be silly. Are you okay?’
‘Yeah.’ I sat up suddenly. ‘I’m so sorry, oh my god, how embarrassing.’
‘No, no, don’t say that, not at all, are you sure you’re okay?’
‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.’
This was the perfect opportunity to creep back to my usual silence, my world of secrets. It was the perfect distraction; we could easily forget I ever asked the question.
‘Can I make you another tea?’ he asked.
I glanced over to where my cup had fallen and smashed. He had cleared it all up.
‘Thank you, that’s really nice of you.’
Surely another cup of tea was fine, so long as I kept my mouth shut.
I watched him finding his way around the kitchen, answering when he asked where I kept the cups and the sugar. I wondered why he was still here. I mean perhaps it was obvious – after all I’d just fainted, maybe it would be rude of him to leave now. But still, the session had officially finished twenty minutes ago, and I’d already paid him. This was all very strange, and yet at the same time his presence felt so natural. He almost didn’t feel like a stranger.
‘Does that happen often?’ he said, snapping me out of my thoughts.
‘Sorry?’
‘The fainting. Do you have low blood pressure or something?’
‘No, I don’t think so, I hardly ever faint.’
‘I’ll put lots of sugar in this tea in any case,’ he laughed.
It suddenly occurred to me, ‘You are making tea for yourself too, right? Please do. I mean only if you want to of course, but I don’t imagine you actually got to finish the last one. Sorry about that.’
I tried to laugh and make it all sound very light-hearted.
‘Sure. I could have another tea. Thank you.’
I waited in silence.
‘That’s an interesting scar you have on your hand,’ he said, pouring milk into the cups – not looking over at me.
‘Oh. Oh yes. An accident. I was taking down an exhibition and a glass frame shattered in my hands.’
‘Ouch. Sounds painful.’
He brought the cups over and put them on the coffee table. He sat down opposite me on the smaller sofa and took a sip. What was he doing here? He didn’t know me and I didn’t know him. Should this be strange? And yet it seemed to me as though he wanted to stay too, as though something was making him stay. Ah, I was being stupid, I was reading into things, making up a story in my head. After all, how could I possibly know what he was thinking? He was looking out of the window again. I looked out too. It was so clear, not a cloud.
‘So what do you see when you stare out of that window?’ I asked.
He laughed.
‘Sorry,’ he said, looking away from it, at me, and then at the cup in his hands.
‘No don’t be. I didn’t mean that. I actually seriously want to know.’
‘Ha! Really? What are you blind or something?’ he joked.
‘No. Colour-blind.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh sorry,’
‘Ha, don’t be.’
‘That’s interesting. Partially? Totally?’
‘Totally.’
I was doing this. I was actually doing this. I was telling someone. God it felt good… and terrifying. So terrifying.
‘Black, white and shades of grey. That’s my life,’ I continued.
‘From birth?’
My heart started pounding so fast it seemed it was about to explode. I shook my head.
‘No.’
Silence.
‘Oh god,’ I said, registering the intrigue on his face, ‘I actually don’t feel too good after all.’ To add to my act I started fanning myself with a random bit of junk mail lying on the coffee table. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I think it’s probably best I get some sleep.’
‘Of course,’ he nodded, trying his best to replace his intrigue with concern. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help…’
‘No, no. But thank you.’
‘Well you should at least let a friend or family member know, have them check in on you, okay?’
Ha! Friends and family. What a joke. But I nodded. And I tried to smile to reassure him that I was okay, even though I wasn’t.
‘Thanks so much for filling in for Pete at such short notice, I’m so happy with how the drawings came out.’
He smiled, nodded, but didn’t say anything. I made to get up but he stopped me and, after a short awkward exchange of goodbyes, he let himself out. And I was left lying on that sofa, watching steam rise from the two cups of tea on the coffee table, and wondering what the fuck had just happened.
That evening I realised I could no longer keep the secrets.