FireMaiden
Grade A Bitch
“Exciting, right?” A man chuckled quietly to avoid disturbing the crowd. His hands laid on the shoulders of the shorter woman in front of him, her hands twisting with her nerves.
“More like nerve wracking. This is your world, not mine,” She reminded, looking back and up to his face. He smiled softly, a kind, living light in his eyes. “I hate people.”
“I know. Don’t worry, it’ll be over before you know it.” It was the first time a piece of his artwork was being shown off in a gallery. She thought it was incredible, though he pointed out each time it was just a local gallery. Always a debbie downer this one, never accepting his achievements as what they were. Incredible. He was an artist! The way he could manipulate his paints, the colors, she had no doubt he’d be something big one day. In comparison, she was probably destined for retail her entire life, but he didn’t seem to mind. She was without a doubt a disappointment in comparison.
From across the room, an older man with white hair finally signaled that the gallery was officially open for the night, the congratulatory drinks and hors d’oeuvres no longer the main attraction. The man smiled again, leaning down now to kiss the top of her head as a hand slipped down her arm to interlock their fingers. “Come on.” He knew this place like the back of his hand, so she followed. Guided through the space crowd of people, until a certain turn where his other hand would cover her eyes. Led forward again, the man stopped her in front of what was no doubt, his piece. “Still nervous?”
“Very…you didn’t let me see it, so I’m still not convinced you didn’t paint-“
“Not in polite company hon, just…tell me what you think.” The woman laughed softly, her eyes opening a few moments after his hand fell away. She stared at the painting in front of her, the sight taking longer for her to process than he was truly comfortable with. But what else did he expect?
“It’s…me?” And it was. An oil recreation of a candid he took months ago, she remembered it well. One that captured her double chin, her big belly, the fat rolls and hip dips that made her sides. That day, she had on a tank top and shorts, her hair was a mess. He had captured every misplaced strand of hair, the small blemishes that covered her skin, the dimples of her cellulite. But the painting was…ethereal, the Sunday morning shinning though their kitchen window bathing her in a warm glow. Her heart fluttered, mind racing as she processed what she was looking at.
“Disappointment.”
“What?”
“The name. Disappointment,” The man said. “I must be a disappointment, that’s what you said when you saw the picture I took,” He said, looking down at her awestruck face. “So I wanted to show you exactly what you look like. To me.” He paused.
“Beautiful.”
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Omg I can't believe this won, I'm so surprised! Thank you so much! (Also here ya go
Gray Sage
and
Rumble Fish
)
“More like nerve wracking. This is your world, not mine,” She reminded, looking back and up to his face. He smiled softly, a kind, living light in his eyes. “I hate people.”
“I know. Don’t worry, it’ll be over before you know it.” It was the first time a piece of his artwork was being shown off in a gallery. She thought it was incredible, though he pointed out each time it was just a local gallery. Always a debbie downer this one, never accepting his achievements as what they were. Incredible. He was an artist! The way he could manipulate his paints, the colors, she had no doubt he’d be something big one day. In comparison, she was probably destined for retail her entire life, but he didn’t seem to mind. She was without a doubt a disappointment in comparison.
From across the room, an older man with white hair finally signaled that the gallery was officially open for the night, the congratulatory drinks and hors d’oeuvres no longer the main attraction. The man smiled again, leaning down now to kiss the top of her head as a hand slipped down her arm to interlock their fingers. “Come on.” He knew this place like the back of his hand, so she followed. Guided through the space crowd of people, until a certain turn where his other hand would cover her eyes. Led forward again, the man stopped her in front of what was no doubt, his piece. “Still nervous?”
“Very…you didn’t let me see it, so I’m still not convinced you didn’t paint-“
“Not in polite company hon, just…tell me what you think.” The woman laughed softly, her eyes opening a few moments after his hand fell away. She stared at the painting in front of her, the sight taking longer for her to process than he was truly comfortable with. But what else did he expect?
“It’s…me?” And it was. An oil recreation of a candid he took months ago, she remembered it well. One that captured her double chin, her big belly, the fat rolls and hip dips that made her sides. That day, she had on a tank top and shorts, her hair was a mess. He had captured every misplaced strand of hair, the small blemishes that covered her skin, the dimples of her cellulite. But the painting was…ethereal, the Sunday morning shinning though their kitchen window bathing her in a warm glow. Her heart fluttered, mind racing as she processed what she was looking at.
“Disappointment.”
“What?”
“The name. Disappointment,” The man said. “I must be a disappointment, that’s what you said when you saw the picture I took,” He said, looking down at her awestruck face. “So I wanted to show you exactly what you look like. To me.” He paused.
“Beautiful.”
----------
Omg I can't believe this won, I'm so surprised! Thank you so much! (Also here ya go
Gray Sage
and
Rumble Fish
)
