I Hadn't Anyone Till You - [Susan Grieve - Daisy Kenyon]

Elegant Tricks of Confusion

Not knowing what to do in this elongated moment of stillness, my eyes started to wander and ultimately landed on the focal point of my hands that were laid upon my crossed legs. They had more sun spots than I remembered them having before, but perhaps that could be attested to the fact that I had never before spent so much time taking a look at how the years passed had started to show up on my skin. It had now been over an hour since I started posing for Daisy. We were in her studio, a charming and cultivated spot of her apartment even on the dreariest gray rain filled day.

In an effort to fill any silence that could occur, Daisy had turned the radio on, which was nice to listen to as I sat on the stool, almost motionless. As I silently hummed to the likes of Margaret Whiting singing "A Tree in the Meadow", it was quite discernible that the turning on of the radio had also made it much less awkward than it already was. Daisy appeared happier than ever that we were finally starting this portrait, but along with that excitement also came strict focus that didn't allow for much conversation to take place. Every few seconds I would see those piercing blue iris' appear from behind the easel, which after a few rounds of such a movement began to be quite humorous as she would pop up like a little kid playing a game of hide and seek.

─ "Do you mind if I get a bit closer? I need to make an outline of your face." she questioned, squinting her eyes a bit.

─ "Sure, go ahead" After all, I was her model and would of course agree to her taking such a measure to accomplish the essence of total similarity in this portrait.

Thus, with that inquiry it made more than enough sense for me to go ahead and move myself a bit closer to the easel rather than have her move the visibly heavy object. After my quick adjustment, I thought she was going to keep on with the sketch. But instead, she came from behind the easel and got closer to me, inspecting every, single, detail on my face. At first, I didn't know what to do with her invasion of my personal space, I looked up, then side to side. I was already heavily introverted from afar and such closeness had me feeling exceptionally bashful. Moreover, there was also a sense of uneasiness rising in me as I realized how bare I felt with her so near, all of my facial imperfections on full view for her. Finally my eyes landed on her. She had quite the serious look on her face and I found myself staring at her face as much as she did mine.

Her eyes reminded me of the calm but lively Atlantic ocean that made up all of the beaches I explored in my childhood. As for the rest of her fairly structured face, she adorned very little makeup. It was refreshing to see her in a more naturalistic look, it showed that the woman I was getting to know wasn't in fact some porcelain doll, free of any cracks and stains. Though her skin still had a delightful glow to it, and most interesting of all, it was embellished with a few freckles scattered from the bridge of her nose to the middle of her cheeks. As I studied them I, without any real hesitation, uttered out loud my thought:

─ "You have... Freckles." It ended up sounding quite awkward for my own ears.

─ "Oh, I've had them ever since I was a little kid. In the summer they show up even more, it's quite hard to conceal them" she said as she lightly brushed the bridge of her nose with the side of her thumb.

─ "You shouldn't, they're gorgeous" I expressed in one breath.

─ "Oh thank you, you're also beautiful..." she mentioned, almost as if it were a fact rather than an opinion. While the gesture was nice, I barely smiled as I always feel quite overwhelmed when my looks are even perceived, let alone complimented. I wasn't one to necessarily think of myself as some alluring woman with an astonishing amount of beauty, and I find it hard to believe that others would think so of me. Daisy, with the way she looks and the way others look at her on the street, may be more used to such accolades, but I sure wasn't.