Page 32 of Portrait of A Lost Artist
CEASELESS THUNDER RIPPEDAPART THE SKY, ITS LOUD MINISTRATIONS AND GLARING LIGHTS UNENDING.Luckily, we’d found a room in the motel, which must have been almost empty before the storm began. The storm took down cell phone lines, and the TV showed only news, the other channels a wash of static, making the night quickly monotone. I left Veronica in her room hours ago, nods shared between us with whispers of ‘good night’ before we went our merry ways. The only sound in my room, just two doors down from hers, is the rain pattering against the window.
I used to focus on the bed’s smallness, but now the unforgiving surface is the real torment, keeping me wide awake. Even a simple twist makes my bones feel like they’re breaking. Could be the age, too, but I’m blaming the motel. Apart from that, I haven’t eaten for hours. Since our afternoon arrival, the clock striking four marked a personal record: more than twelve hours without eating. With that thought in mind, I try to pick up the old telephone that lies on the bedside table, but when I bring the device up to my ear, it’s to no avail.
I can’t even call the receptionist for some food. Anything. Even eggs would be great at this time of the night. Another sigh and another movement against the bed. I’ve tried falling asleep for hours, providing off the patter of the rain and the chill atmosphere that settles in the cold air. However, worry clings to me like a second skin. Benicio’s house is not the strongest, and the rain lingers endlessly. Had he gotten home safely? Was he able to shelter himself, the house intact, after all the commotions?
No books to read. No TV to watch. Nothing. I sit up and wish I had brought my Spanish notebook and the textbooks with me. I could get some studying done, but I am left with the drag of my bare feet against the tiles, laying my frame against the wall near the window and pushing the old, dusty curtains aside to look at the darkness that is so unlike Cuba taking over Havana. Though another flash of light screams across the sky, it can’t pull me from my thoughts, while the distant, clashing waves send a dizzying electric current through me. They vividly display the ocean’s anger, a powerful reminder of nature’s strength.
I’m broken away from my daze when I hear a knock on my door. If I’m lucky, the motel must have some kind of breakfast-to-the-room service that came earlier than expected and I can finally grab a bite of something. If not, it must be one of those kids that were staying with the people next door and hadn’t stopped crying until a few hours ago. Running a hand through my tangled hair, I try to massage the sleep from my eyes, desperately masking the monumental frown that insomnia had sculpted. The click of the unlocking door signals my hope for food, but a visitor stands before me.
Veronica has never looked more adorable in my eyes. A thin yellow blanket wraps around her wavy, now dry and messy locks, softly grazing her shoulders and falling to her calves. She’s still wearing that white dress that had captured my breath earlier in the afternoon, highlighted by the sun-colored straps of her bikini. She crosses one leg over the other, softly smiling at me before mumbling.
“Did I wake you up?” I would have snapped at anyone else, but seeing the fleeting image of a blush on the apple of her cheeks has my entire body relaxing. The tendons and muscles that had been sore because of the bed release their firm hold against my body; a sigh coming from the depths of my stressed anatomy getting out towards the rest of the world before I shake my head.
“I’ve tried sleeping for hours, but that mattress’ mission is killing my back before I can even shut an eye.” Exaggeration goes past my lips in a way that has her chuckling, pointing a finger inside the room.
“Can I come inside?” She can do as she fucking pleases, I want to tell her. In the best way possible. One look at that godly smile is enough for me to admit that she could ask me for thousands of dollars and I would give them to her in a heartbeat.
“Absolutely. You didn’t even have to ask.” I prompt, mentally scolding myself as my gaze instinctively follows her passing form. And that ass, of course. Those thighs were a captivating sight—the smooth expanse meeting the gentle curve of her lower back, a truly perfect design. Gravity and adulthood at its finest. “I’m assuming you couldn’t sleep either.”
“I was trying to get in contact with Adam and Mom, but the phones weren't working and then, as I ventured downstairs to find some food, I realized just how heavy the rain was and...” Her voice trails when I sit down on the bed, patting a hand against the surface and watching her as she nears. Crooking her calf under her thigh, she let the material of her blanket fall around her before showing what she had hidden under there. “I got scared, but I also had an extra granola bar that the worker offered so...”
“Please, tell me you’re sharing it with me.”
“You’re hungry?” She asks, already placing heaven on a wrapper in my hand. I am not a huge fan of strawberry granola bars, but I unload it from its confines as soon as possible. Veronica gazes at me with a smile on her features. “That’s enough of an answer.Buen provecho.”
“Thank you.” I let out, mouth filled with the granola bar. She, then, takes a careful bite. That prompted me to lean back, the ornate iron of the headrest pressing into my shoulder blades with unwelcome sharpness. Yet, the discomfort was a small price to pay for the clearer view of her—the serene quality of her gestures, the quiet rise and fall of her chest, the subtle grace of her hands. “I didn’t know you feared thunder. I would have stayed longer if I had known.”
“I didn’t know either. I guess it’s just a rare occurrence here in Havana.” She admits, leaning back to look out of the window before a shiver travels across her body, visible even within our distance. “I’m worried about the rest. I know our people didn’t prepare for this kind of storm. We’re lucky we’re in this motel, because the electricity is out in most places...”
The sky cracks again with thunder, and she reacts with a sharp gasp, leaping slightly. With the last piece of my granola bar still in my mouth, I lean in and steady her by placing my hands on her arms. “We can only hope they are alright. Your family, I mean.” I tell her, twirling a strand of her wavy hair in between my fingers. The strands aren’t sleek and smooth, but the honest feel of her hair under my fingertips is captivating. It has that perfect weight and texture that makes you want to cup your hand around it and bring her face closer for a kiss. “You know what? I can be some kind of distraction.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “I was hoping you’d be. I didn’t come here to sleep on this hard-ass bed.” The laughter dies quickly on my lips at her words, as if she’d intentionally stolen it, and a sense of wonder strikes me. The rhythmic rain against the glass weaves a perfect, intimate backdrop for our shared night. Just her and I. No one else mattered. “...I’m sorry I brought no more food. Though, the guy by the counter told me they were planning on serving breakfast. Like, sandwiches or something.”
“We just didn’t come prepared. If we’re pointing fingers, I was the one who invited you to the beach.”
“Nathan...” She trails her voice, landing a soft smack on my shoulder. “You didn’t know. Stop blaming yourself.”
“If you stop doing it, too.” The mention of food triggers a memory. Perhaps it’s the unusual quiet of the surrounding city, combined with Veronica’s willingness to truly listen and voice opinions that challenge what I’ve always been told. I gently tuck the strand of hair I’d been toying with behind her ear before letting out a sigh. “Besides, it’s not like it’s the first time I had actually, you know, spent time without eating.”
“Really?” Veronica asks. “W—Was your family poor before they became rich or...?”
“No, no. I just...” Simon comes to mind. Whenever I open my phone, I am met with him sending me the schedule for the week. The knowledge of his expectation for my return often triggers a wave of guilt, seeing all that demands my attention. But the need to heal was a stronger pull, a selfish act perhaps. Veronica remains unaware that he’s my manager, yet I feel a strange urge to confide in her, something I never did with Lucy. Only Renna knows this secret, and that was by chance. “I had this...let’s call him this sitter that I had since I was very young. My parents granted him the opportunity to take care of me and make sure I did things right and whatnot.” While also managing my career, because that was more important than living my youth.
Veronica hums. “Did he let you starve?”
I would have never put it that way, because there was always a chef nearby that I could have asked for food, but when my art career was still under development and Simon wanted to push past my talent with my looks, he grew...obsessed with an image that I couldn’t come close to.
“Not really. He’d shame me for eating, I guess. I had a complicated time understanding that there was more to me than my body, so...I would just not eat. That’s how I picked up alcohol.” I confess, feeling more ashamed by the minute as I tell her that. I push my body away, looking to the side and shaking my head. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m a mess—”
Veronica, however, always manages to contradict my assumptions. She envelops my hands in her own, her warmth a comforting cascade as she brings them to her exquisite lips, pressing soft kisses against my knuckles. Finally, she settles our intertwined hands onto her lap. “I’ll say it a million times and repeat it if I have to, but you’re not a mess. Do I think you had it all? Yes, but at a cost that no kid should ever go through. It worked in your favor that you didn’t have to go through certain things, but that doesn’t mean other matters cannot take place.” She lets those words fall ahead of us, twirling a nail across my index and middle finger.
Someone with Veronica’s understanding should have been there for me earlier. It’s not to paint everyone in my life negatively—I’m fortunate to have Renna, Jun, his family, and my own. Yet, there’s been a persistent sense of isolation, a belief that confiding in anyone would mean lost income. Their well-being was so tied to my productivity that seeking help felt like a selfish act, steeped in guilt.
“Either way, yes. That’s it. Didn’t have the same connection to food for a while, but coming here...feels good. There’s so much to discover, myself included.” I watch her with intent, clapping a hand against her own as if to move the conversation forward. “Enough about me.”
“I’m just...okay, I stayed quiet a little too long there, but I promise it’s not because I didn’t want to say anything,” Veronica whispers, the strap of her dress falling off one shoulder. “I’m just glad. That you made it here, I mean. I am guessing it wasn’t easy to make it another day every twenty-four hours and...to have you here, aiming to be better, and doing it as well, makes me proud.”
Ridden of speech, I am just left there to gawk at the beauty that she emanates. Past the obvious physical attraction, I can’t sit here and say that there is not something deeper that grows within me like leaves after autumn for her. Veronica is, in a word, spectacular. She’s not someone who will be written about in textbooks, but her extraordinary character and rich soul are such that encountering her even once would be a valuable experience for anyone.
