Anxious [H.S]

Chapter 22: Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls

*Song: Paint It, Black by The Rolling Stones*

Harry and I got back from Niagara Falls last night and we leave tomorrow for England. I am a bit nervous. I woke up early today because I got an email stating that my passport was ready and that I needed to pick it up. So I got up, without waking Harry and picked up. I am home now and I already packed last night so I have nothing left to do. Harry is still sleeping because it is still a bit early so I decide to draw. I don't know what to draw exactly but I know it will relieve my stress. I go into my art studio and set up paper and a bunch of different pencils, marker, and pens. I stare at the paper for what feels forever until I hear my phone start to ring. It's my dad. I stare at my phone for a few seconds before I answer. I answer and get up to shut the door.

"Leah, do you know what day it is?" he asks.

"August 30th," I say, confused.

"No, it's your mother's death anniversary," he slurs. He's clearly drunk.

"No it's not. Her death anniversary was like a month ago," I say.

"What a horrible daughter you are, you don't even remember the day she died," he says.

"I don't think I could ever forget that day! It's pretty sad that you don't remember the day your wife died!" I shout, he is making me so angry. I look over to see Harry standing in the doorway in just gray sweatpants. I can already see from here that he looks worried.

"Analeah, don't raise your voice at me!" he yells so loud it hurts my ears.

"I have to go, I've got stuff I have to do," I say, tired of the same type of conversation I always have with my dad.

"Analeah Marie, don't you dear hang up this phone!" is all I hear before hanging up and turning my phone completely off. I run my hands through my hair and rub my temples. Why does he always do this to me?

I feel two hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently.

"Are you alright, love?" he asks, kissing the top of my head.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I mumble, tilting my head back so I can look at him. I can tell just by the look on his face he doesn't believe me but I don't think he wants to push it more, already knowing I'm not ready to talk about it.

"What were you going to draw?" he asks.

"I don't know, I never really got a chance to think about it," I say as he pulled a chair over to the desk.

"I think you should draw me," he says, smirking.

"You really want me to draw you?" I ask, smiling.

"Yes, yes I do. Draw me like one of your French girls," he says, quoting Rose from the Titanic 

"Okay then, get ready," I state.

"Okay, I'll be right back," he says, running out of the room.

He comes back a few moments later with a pair of pink sunglasses on. One's that I've never seen before. He sits back down in the chair and puckers up his lips.

"Go ahead, I am ready for my close up," he says, puckering his lips back up.

I lean in and kiss his lips before I start drawing. He lets out a giggle when I do so. I begin drawing him, giving him a nice angled jawline and high cheekbones. Next I move to his hair drawing his soft curls in on top of his head. I draw his green eyes that are being covered by pink sunglasses. I grab a pink marker and color in the sunglasses, the only part of the drawing that is in color, the rest is in black and white. I draw his nose then his puckered lips, finishing the drawing.