Alphabet of Regret: U is for Us

Urban coffeehouse basements each have their own smell. In this case it was a combination of roasted coffee beans and mildewed books. She could tell where she was with her eyes closed, which they were. It helped her stay still, closing her eyes. This group was especially asshole-ish about her keeping still. And they got their panties in a knot when she didn't hold a 10 minute pose for the whole 10 minutes, even though they were too cheap for an egg timer and she had to count out the 10 minutes in her head. So she lost count sometimes, what's the big deal?

He never complained, of course, just the others. He barely looked up from his drawing pad and probably had no idea who she was – even though he came to every single session. Sometimes he brought her a coffee on her break, which got her hopes up a little. But what could someone like that see in someone like her, she wondered.

Nothing. Obviously nothing.

**

Underwear on the floor next to his feet was not what he needed or wanted, yet there it was. The model had dropped her robe on the corner of the stand, and her cerise lace thong had fallen to the floor next to his chair. It was as if his mother was saying “look! A pretty girl's underwear! At your feet! Lucky you!” He didn't feel lucky. He felt like the shoe before it drops.

Bored with the model, he drew the thong.

**

Umeboshi plums are the most disgusting things ever, but knowing what they are is a good way to pick up women. Women like men who have library cards and know about things like umeboshi plums. Women like men who have an artistic side and are nonchalant about things like naked women. Drawing groups are good places to meet women.

If only he hadn't skipped high school art pretty much every day, the girl next to him wouldn't be glaring at him in that “I know you're just here to see a naked woman, you pathetic piece of shit” kind of way.

**

Umber. Her hair was the color of burnt umber. He wanted to touch it but a) he'd never be allowed back and b) he couldn't actually reach her from where he was sitting. It's possible she had noticed that he came to all her sessions but it's also possible she didn't know he stayed home on the nights she wasn't working.

He wanted to talk to her but it's hard enough talking to girls, let alone when the girl you want to talk to is only wearing a bathrobe (if that). How is it that the person with no clothes on is the one with the power? How do you talk to someone you've only seen naked, when you're just another guy with $10 and a drawing pad?

**

Unfinished drawings, unfinished relationships – everything she touched turned out not quite good enough to keep, but was too much of an investment to let go.

She envied the way the others flipped the page when there was nothing more to be done. The moving on without regret. She liked watching artists lose themselves in the work until, swoosh! Clean page.

She wished she could do that trick with the clean page. Some day she would do that.

**

Uninsured. That's all he could think as the girl changed poses, stepped a little too close to the edge of the shoddy stand, and tipped the whole thing up like a cheap-rug-covered tsunami. Uninsured. The model was okay but it was just another reminder that life was held together by the thinnest of threads. One false move and it all spins away.

When everything was going great, it was just exactly the life he wanted. He made his own rules and worked his own hours - free from corporate overlords. A little of this. A little of that. Always enough to get by and sometimes a little to spare. He didn't really need anything. Personal property is theft; as long as you have what you need, why desire more?

His mind drifted over all the friends who had moved on. As far as he could figure, he was the only one left with any ideals. Were those ideals just fantasies meant to be outgrown? Had he missed a memo?

He found substance and solace drawing the lines of the model. This was exactly where he needed to be. He drew. She sat, and...

“Dammit. That was not ten minutes.”

Comments

[ms picket to you]

I have read this twice and am hoping to read it out loud to my husband tonight.

You are gifted. This was so well executed.

[Jett]

I wanted this to go on for at least twenty more paragraphs. It is a marvel, this thing, and the way you threaded it together makes me so envious and proud and exuberant in turns.

I just want to squeeze your sweet face and say "Hello? THANK YOU." right into it. So, you know, please pretend I am doing so.

It's awesome to have such talented friends. And, at the risk of hurting somebody's feelings, I gotta say that this is my favorite of this whole round.

[Skye]

I loved loved loved this. Such a delicately woven tapestry.

[Mr Lady]

Wickedlyy awesome. And I'm with Jett....I wish this could go on and on and on.

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Yes. Yes yes yes.

By god, this is elegantly constructed and rendered. Love it.

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Beautiful, captivating, and delicious. I was disappointed when I got to the end.

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