It's Billy's Favorite

Chapter XX

Chris finally left back to whatever hell hole he came from, and my mother fell back to sleeping at the bar most nights with her boss. I spent most of my time hanging out with Enzo and occasionally talking to Julia. However the only times I saw her was at school or when I would occasionally drop her off at home. This time however when I dropped her back at her house she seemed calmer.
"My family isn't here." "Where did they go?" "They're driving to my aunts hearing to figure out if she will get bail or not. I didn't want to go so I have the house to myself until the morning. I thought you might want to see my paintings." "Oh yeah sure." "Great. Let's go."
  We walked to her from door and she grabbed the key from under the flower pot. When we got into her house it looked fairly normal minus the cigarette tracks all over the walls.
  "If you want you can smoke in here. My parents do it all the time." "Oh no it's fine."
  She smiled and grabbed my hand leading me to the second floor. There were four rooms on the second floor. She opened the first door on the left. When I got in there there was a medium sized room with paintbrushes everywhere. Her bed was dark grey and her window had pearls hanging on the lock. There was a red telephone sitting on the ground and tons of sketchbooks on her bed. She sat at her desk and moved a canvas that was on a stand to face me. I was shocked when I saw what I was looking at; it was a picture of a a beach and sail boats. "I tend to adore Claude Monet and his paintings. My grandma gave me a book on all his work and for years I try to replicate them or add my own twist. This is The Beach of Saint-Adresse. 1867. However I do have my own things I paint."
  She pulled out a canvas from under her bed of a pond with a close of up a water lily.
  "Holy shit." "You like it?" "You're fucking talented." "Awww aren't you sweet. Here let me show you my sketch books."
She gave my the sketchbooks and sat me on the edge of my bed letting me scroll through them while she sat on the floor. They were small sketches of skulls, animals, boats, ponds, seas, cars, and the final picture was a woman in a leather chair wearing fishnets and wearing heels with a cigarette in here hand and a martini next to her.
"That one is my most recent drawing. I see it as the classic French prostitute dying for a fancy life while she waits for her night and shining armor." "This is really cool." "I've never actually showed anyone my work. Can I draw something about you?" "Like what?" "Well your hands."
I shot my head up tilting my head.
"Why my hands?" "Well for starters they're beautiful. The rings add a nice touch. Also hands that are strong and delicate like that are considered art work to me. I just want to draw them." "Uh yeah sure. What position?" "Gently put your hands together like you're praying, but not actually praying. I want to get the perfect angle." "Alright."
I did as she said and didn't move my hands for the next 45 minutes. She let me take two minutes after 20 minutes and then she was finally done. She turned the sketchbook around and I put my hands down and my eyes widened as I looked at the drawing. She drew shadows all around it and my rings were an exact replica.
"That's sick." "Thank you. Now every time I look at these hands I'll remember you." "Cute." "It was nice for you to do that for me. You're the only person who has let me draw them." "Oh well I mean I knew I wasn't going to be disappointed." "Thanks."
She looked up at me and looked calm. We looked at each other for a minute before she stood up.
"I have to be at work early tomorrow." "Yeah same I'll hopefully see you around." "Yeah of course."
I got up and she was close to my chest she looked up at me and smiled. Quickly she turned down her smile and put her head down. I could feel she was nervous, she moved away sitting on her bed.
"Have a good night Robbie." "You too Julia."
She walked me to the front door in such a rush I felt I was going to fall down the stairs and hit my head on the floor. When she got me to the door and patted my shoulder and shut the door quickly but quietly. What an experience. I drove home thinking about her. She seemed like she wanted to get close but immediately shut me down. I don't know if this is good for me. I mean she's just a girl I let sleep in my house. I don't think there could be anything further to that. Well at least I don't know.
  When I got home I kept looking at my hands moving them in different positions. They seemed normal to me but every time I looked at my hands all I could think about was her, looking at them with intensity and making poetry out of it. I couldn't understand it at all, even if I wanted to. I started to turn my rings around on my finger thinking about her art work, the beauty and simplicity of it. I wanted to learn more but I felt like after this night; Julia might not speak to me or at least if she did we wouldn't go back to her house or mine. I just didn't know what was happening and I couldn't bear to think anymore. I needed a goddamn cigarette.