wasted eyes | joseph descamps

Ch.7: play date

Saturday came too quickly for my liking.

I prepared a few books I had borrowed from my father's study. A notebook and a few pens should be enough.

I looked at myself on the mirror. I had made an effort to dress simple and not too flashy. A long skirt, with a long sleeved shirt and my favorite earrings. I was going to work with Descamps, nothing glamorous about it. I put those thoughts to the back of my mind. I was supposed to leave now if I didn't want to be late.

I put a jacket on and locked the door behind me.
The weather was cold but sunny. I took the time to enjoy it on my walk there. The rays of sunshine brought my sour mood up. The situation didn't deserve such a sunny day.

I quickly got to the address he gave me. I double-checked I was at the right place before knocking. As I waited for someone to open the door, I looked at the facade a bit more cautiously. It was a cute white house with those big windows on the first floor.

Finally, the door in front of me opened. Descamps looked less than happy to see me. He motioned for me to get in without saying a word.

« Hi, how are you Honora? Oh, thank you so much for asking Descamps ! I'm great, how about you ? » I said sarcastically. I could see him roll his eyes.

« We're going to work in the living room, there should be nobody home until 8 » he said.

I sat down and started getting my books out. He sat just beside me, a bit too close if you asked me.

« So I borrowed some books about art from my father, I thought we could look through them to see if we found an artist we'd want to cover » I started, passing one of the books to him. « Since we are currently talking about painters, it could be relevant to chose one » I was about to keep on going but Descamps had not even opened the book.

« Descamps, did you hear me ? » I asked, a frown noticeable on my face.

He looked me in the eyes.

« Yeah » he flatly said. « But I'm not doing any of that » he put his hands behind his head, leaning on his chair.

This was not going to be easy.

I raised a brow, frustration starting to take over me.
« What do you mean « you're not doing anything » ? » I asked

« You're going to do the work alone » he said.

That's it.

« Let me tell you exactly how this is going to work, Joseph. You're going to open the book in front of you, choose a fucking painter and we're going to work together on this project. Understood ? Or do I need to repeat myself ? » I threatened, my hand getting close to the book in front of me. One wrong word and I would smack him with this encyclopedia.

He simply stared at me.

And then.

He laughed.

He just laughed at me. So hard, he almost fell of his chair.

« You should have seen your face » he laughed. « I planned this the moment you knocked on the door »

« It's not funny ! I was about to smack you with that book » I pretended to be hurt, but truly I was glad the atmosphere felt lighter.

He took one last look at me, a smile still on his lips, before opening the book in front of him.

We had been working for 3 hours non-stop and I could tell he was getting bored. He was sighing every 5 seconds, writing 10 words a minute.

« Stay focused, please. We are almost done » I pleaded.