“That’s amazing,” he said, unable to take his eyes off it. “I can’t believe you drew this from memory.”
“I have a good memory.” She smiled.
“I’m speechless. Well, not literally speechless, as I’m babbling, but I don’t know what to say.” He turned to glance at Marienne and saw that she was blushing. “I had no idea I was this good looking.” He added, and she laughed, which was precisely what he wanted. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, at all, ever.
“Well,” she said. “There’s some artistic license.”
“Clearly,” he said. “And thank you, I’ve never looked better. Though I do look awfully sad. Is that how you see me?”
“I was going for introspective, not so much sad, but the night I drew that, yes, you did seem sad.”
“What night was that?” he asked.
“The night you came for dinner while I was baking all the Christmas cookies, the night you told me about your mom.”
“Then I’d say you captured that mood perfectly.” He looked back at the drawing, still amazed by how much it looked like him, only somehow better.
“But that’s not how I always see you. Turn the page.”
He laughed as the next drawing was also of him, this time with his head thrown back, eyes twinkling, mouth wide with laughter, right hand raised and woven through his hair. Once again he felt like he was looking at a photograph rather that a drawing. He looked at his own hand then at the drawing, she had captured it flawlessly. The expression, the pose, it was all unmistakably him. How did she do that without me posing for her?
“You’re amazing.” He was in awe, not only of her ability to put his image on paper with such beauty, but to see him with such clarity.
For an interview with Karen Stivali, and to find out where to connect with her, scroll down, go to the home page, or click here. Come back tomorrow to read a guest post by Karen.
