The Starving Artist by Jessica Pots & Elle Wild

Author:Jessica Pots & Elle Wild [Pots, Jessica & Wild, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jessica's Book Corner & Wild Publishing, LLC
Published: 2020-01-31T05:00:00+00:00

Mila

TESS WORKS LIKE A woman possessed…

Her gaze swings from the canvas to my form and then back to the canvas again.

Long strands of her hair have come loose from the neat style it was previously in and a huge array of bright colors—blue, pink, purple, yellow—stain her once proper clothing. Her blouse is three buttons undone and every now and again her hand swipes away the sweat which has gathered on her skin. She works feverishly, madly, passionately, and I can’t help but appreciate it all while she is in her element.

Tess works…

While I just lie here, shifting positions, attempting to make myself look beautiful and trying to make conversation with her which thus far has been difficult, but I push on…

“I once told my father that I hated going to church.”

Tess pauses, says nothing.

“It was a mistake, you know, something I shouldn’t have said because the next time I was forced to go, I was ordered to stay there for much longer.” I roll my eyes and then face the window and admire the falling rain, wishing I could crack one of those windows open so that I could smell it, but Tess prefers them shut. “I think my parents felt that if they forced me to love going to sit in the house of the Lord for a while, I would gradually learn to love it.”

“You cannot make someone love something whether it be action or a person or a thing if their heart isn’t open to it.” Tess makes dramatic strokes with the brush in her hand and stains the canvas with pale yellow while leaving herself a sweaty mess with the action.

“Yes, I know.” Smiling, I wiggle my brows and shift where I lie, uncaring that my breasts are on display for this woman to see along with every other God-given body part of mine. I admire myself for a moment and accept that I enjoy this nakedness. I adore how beautiful I feel. And I accept that nothing but excitement moves through me in a torrent to know that I will be captured on canvas for eternity.

Tess continues to work feverishly. “Can I ask that if you hated church so much and your parents for forcing you to go so often, then why do wear that cross around your neck, Mila?” She spares me a quick glance before the canvas in front of her becomes her only focus once again.

My eyes fall to the piece of jewelry which dangles from the gold chain around my neck that Tess speaks about. Clutching it tightly, I squeeze it between my fingers and feel odd for cherishing it so much. Then my eyes find Tess’ blues. “I didn’t say I didn’t believe in God, Tess…I simply said I didn’t like the way my parents forced me to acknowledge that he exists.”

“So, what does it matter whether or not you were forced or not, the end result was the same, wasn’t it?”

My brows crash together. “Yes, I suppose it was.

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