The next day when Mike had shown up at the beach, Nicholas was shocked. He hadn’t expected to see his friend in a while and was even more shocked when he pulled Minnie away from his grasp.
“I’m giving her a small tour of the city.” He had told his friend. “Don’t worry, she will be safe. I am a gentleman.”
Nicholas couldn’t protest, not when she said.
“You could go get some sleep. Finish off this lesson another time.”
That was the second time she had said that to him. Asking him to finish the lesson another time because he was tired. He watched as he followed her up inside her hotel building, laughing at something that Mike had said.
There was this odd stab in his heart, but he knew that Michael didn’t care much for girls, he didn’t like Minnie in that way, he could see it in his eyes. There was more of the way that Damien looked at Nikita, with much less hate but concern and protection nonetheless
But he couldn’t help the feeling. As he packed up his bags and trekked back to his car, he saw them walk out of the hotel. Mike’s arm around Minnie’s shoulder, both laughing. She was dressed in a pair of ripped black jeans and a pink lace bralette top. Her braids braided over one shoulder and her legs made longer by the heels of her black sneaker wedges.
He watched as Mike opened the car door for her and she smiled at him. He watched as the old white BMW roared away.
****
He went back to his apartment, in Camps bay. From his apartment he could see a beautiful view of the sea, stretching out for miles on end. It was on the top floor and had only one bedroom, but he didn’t mind, it. Covering the wooden floors was a great big tarp, as to not get any paint on them. The walls were a pale grey with floor to ceiling windows of the ocean with white curtains.
The small kitchen was exactly that, small. The cabinets were a white wood painted white with silver appliances and a breakfast bar. He didn’t have a dining room table because he used the space to keep all his art supplies. At least the ones he left here when he went travelling. He returned there most often as he didn’t quite have a home in America. This was as close to one as he could ever get.
His couch was pushed against one wall and the easels took up most of his space. He had two of them, one was for smaller canvases and the other for larger. He could use only one as the one for smaller canvases had an issue with the main mechanism used to allow for canvas size.
There was nothing else of note in his apartment, he spent most of his days painting or away. Whether out of the country or by the beach. He looked fondly at the waves from his window, smaller buildings jutted out to hide portions from his view. He watched the view, careful and turned back to the bigger easel.
There his masterpiece sat, staring at him. It was a painting of a black girl with blackholes for eyes and braids on her head. She was lying on a surfboard, wearing a Grecian style dress. Her cleavage was visible as she looked at up, the sea carrying her. The painting cut off at her waist but on the floor, leaning against the wall was the rest of the painting. Her legs were covered by the flowing linen and she didn’t seem to mind as she looked up at someone. Reflecting her eyes was a man, or at least a shadow of one. Her soft look was given to him.
It was beautiful, she was beautiful, but something irked him about it. He didn’t know what, it was what irked him about all the other paintings he had done of her. A total of three.
There was something missing, something had that irked him and made him twist and turn when he fell asleep. He sat down on his couch. The painting on the small easel was of her eyes. Just her eyes in the bright sunlight, all dark and deep brown. Her sculpted eyebrows and the way she was intrigued and playful. That was his favourite look because just below it came a smirk, dangerous and beautiful.
He couldn’t do it justice so he didn’t even try to paint it.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, the screen flashed with the name ‘mom’.
“Hi.” He sat down on the black leather couch.
“I didn’t think you would answer.” His mother said, her voice was surprised and sweet.
“I always answer.” Nic shook his head.
“You used to, I have tried calling you for the past couple of days.” Isabella Thorpe was a force of nature, woman who could say nearly anything like convince a man to run for president. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine mom.”
“You don’t sound fine.” Isabella said, Nic knew there was a head shake with that sentence.
“Mom.” He whined. It was odd for him to still have his mother treat him like a child even though he was all grown up.
“What’s bothering you? Girl trouble?” She asked. He didn’t answer, it wasn’t girl trouble. He wouldn’t call it that.
“Just tell her you like her. Buy her some flowers.” Isabella instructed.
“She kissed me.” Nic sighed, running a hand over his face.
“So, what’s wrong then?” Isabella questioned. “Don’t tell me you had bad breath.”
“Mom.” Nic protested again. “That’s not what happened.”
“Was she drunk?”
“No!” Nic almost fell of his seat at his mothers question.
“Then?” On the other side of the phone was the sound of a chair scrapping against floor tiles.
“I told her we couldn’t work out.” He explained.
There was a large sigh before she answered once again. “Why would you do that?”
“She’s here on holiday and-”
“You don’t want to have to see her leave.” She finished for him. He didn’t say anything. She was right. Albeit in an odd and annoying ‘I am still your mother manner’.
“I know you well, Nicky. I know that you run from your emotions and that you are horrible with girls. Have you been painting her?”
He didn’t answer. She knew him too well.
“How many?” Another sigh followed, he could see his mother shaking her head at him.
“Three.” He said, softly.
“Only?” There was surprise in her voice.
“One of them was two parts.” He said, “It took a while.”
“So, four?” She corrected.
“No-”
She took a deep breath. “What have I told you about lying?”
“That I shouldn’t do it.” Nic recounted the phrase that had been drilled into his head from a young age by Isabella.
“Especially to me.” She agreed, “Tell me about her.”
He didn’t know what to say. So, he said the first thing that he could say.
“She’s really good with graphite and she has this smile. That makes me want to make sure she keeps smiling. She has these eyes like blackholes, dark and mysterious but somehow light.” He beamed, her image was locked into his memory, “She’s a mystery but a mystery that someone else is going to get to solve.” Nic ran a hand through his hair as his mood dropped.
“Why?” Isabella asked.
“She’s going to get married to some ‘prince’.” He groaned.
“Her own choice?”
“No, her father chose for her. And besides, she’s planning to go to college.” He continued, shaking it off.
“You know, it’s never too late to go and study.” Isabella told him.
He didn’t say anything. His choice not to go to college was a direct result of the fight that he had had with his father. He didn’t want to go study something that he didn’t care much for.
“You know, he loves you.” Isabella advised. “Talk to her, Nicholas. Talk to her properly and don’t worry about your father. One day he’ll see what I see in you.”
“And that is?”
“A handsome young man with so much talent.” Isabella’s voice turned sweet. A voice called her away from the phone. “I have to go. Your sister wants me to help her go over her lines for the school play. Come home for Christmas?”
“I don’t know yet.” But he had already gotten his ticket and he didn’t want to tell his mother as it would cause more tension was what was necessary from his father.
“I’ll see you here on Christmas eve. I love you.” Isabella chirped.
“Love you too, bye.”
His mother was the one to drop the call, he dropped the phone onto his couch. He got up, clearing away the other paintings and placed a fresh large canvas onto an easel.
The painting came easy enough. It was Minenhle smiling at him with her playful smirk. She was sitting opposite him at McDonalds, a fry in hand aiming for her mouth. She was looking at him, he was saying something. Something that made her eyes flicker and make him want to kiss her.
He fell back onto the couch and fell asleep right there.
And for the first time in a week, he slept the whole night through. A peaceful dreamless sleep.
****
Comments (0)
See all