Issues

Hello

"Oh I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you" giggled the blonde. "I... uh... no.... it's fine" I fumbled. God what is wrong with me? Why am I so nervous all of the sudden? Picking up women is effortless for me. But why does this make me feel like I'm on my heels and unsure about myself? Her burgundy tinted lips widened to a big smile and said, "Good. Let's try this again. Hello," she said reaching out her hand for a handshake. Smirking, I shook her hand and said, "Hello". Was she coming onto to me or was she just being nice? I decide to investigate further. "So, can I buy you a drink?" I asked swirling around the glass of scotch in my hand. She shifted herself in her seat with an uncomfortable look on her face and replied with an uneasy smile, "No. That's okay. I've got it".

Shot. Down. This feeling in the pit of my stomach was something I'm definitely not used to feeling. Rejection burns man. As a result, I can feel my walls quickly building another layer of safety. I could feel my body language changing from open to closed off as I turn away from her and mumble to myself, "Okay then" in a snarky tone of voice. The next thing I know, I feel her hand gently grabbing my forearm. "Hey. Wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come off harsh...Hey... look at me" she said softly. Wanting to hold firm and not look her in the eyes, I hesitated for a moment before I finally caved and gazed into her captivating blue eyes. Keeping her grasp on my forearm, she smiled at me and continued, "I just don't like owing people anything and I... Oh excuse me". Son of a bitch, her phone just rang. "Hey! Mhm. Okay I'll be right there." she said to the person on the other end of the phone before she hung up. Looking back at me, she stood up and said, "I'm sorry. I have to go. Have a good night".

Feeling dejected, I down the rest of my glass and slam it hard on the table. Are you kidding me?! I finally get to talk to her and she has to leave. "Hey. Don't feel bad. That's the most she's said or interacted with anyone in this place. She's a complicated one. That's for sure. Never really had a customer like her before. But if you're asking me, she was intrigued by you. Maybe even had a little thing for you" said the bartender as he wiped a few glasses dry and put them on the shelf. "Really? You think so? Cause it sure felt like she was rejecting me" I reply while slouching down in my seat and crossing my arms over my torso. "Oh trust me. She didn't give you the same speech she gives everyone else. It's literally the same thing every single time. You seriously couldn't tell from the way she was looking at you? I'd bet you 100 bucks she'd still be talking to you right now of she didn't have to leave" he replied. Feeling a little better about myself I ask, "Hey, so how often does she come in here"? Thinking for a moment, the bartender replied, "It's actually every other day. She orders the same glass of wine. And she only ever drinks that one glass of wine. No matter how many men offer to buy her a drink. So if you want to see her again, I suggest you come back the day after tomorrow".

Smiling to myself I say, "Hm. Maybe I will once I'm done with an interview in Milan". I place a hundred dollar bill on the table and say, "Thank you. Really. You've been a big help. Keep the change. You deserve it".

Throughout the cab ride home, I replayed our brief encounter in my head over and over again. I thought about every word she spoke, her touch, her sense of assertiveness, her smile, and her eyes. Those eyes. My God. They were kind eyes. Yet there were many layers to them. I saw a sense of insecurity. They seemed closed off and guarded too. The bartender was right. She was a complicated woman. Once I arrived back at my apartment, it was 1 am. I wasn't even tired. I just kept thinking about her. All of these thoughts and feelings running through me inspired me to go to my place and capture the sense of creativity I was currently experiencing.

I headed to the back of my apartment, to the place no one ever gets to go to. I slowly unlock the door, open it, turn on the light, and look around at the mess I made of the place the last time I was here. The last time I was here, I felt like I couldn't breathe and I was full of anger. Boy what a difference a few days make. I grabbed a broom and swept up broken glass. I picked up a table I had flipped over and carefully rearranged the items that belonged on it. Then, I walked over  to the large window and sat down at my stool in front of a fresh canvas. I chose my colors, picked up my brush, and began to paint.

I was so engrossed in the moment, I lost track of the time. It was just me and my canvas. The place where I'm the happiest. The place where hundreds of colors flow from the tips of various brushes and capture the essence of the moment of creativity. Sometimes my creations are bright and joyful. Since I've come home from deployment and started my new life as a model, my work hasn't been so bright. It's been quite dark actually. Taking a step back, I pause for a moment to look at what I've created. The lighting from the sunrise casts a heavenly glow upon the canvas and really brings to life the focus of the painting.

"Knock knock. Emily. It's Hanna. Can I come in?" said a voice at the door to my studio. Still engrossed in my creation and not really paying attention to what was said, I reply, "It's unlocked". The door slowly creaked open and I heard an audible gasp behind me.