Artista

Susana had just replaced the decorations in the La Artista café with her new paintings on her annual visit here. As she pushed open the wooden door, a flood of warm sunlight poured onto her face, so she closed her eyes to take a deep breath. It was the best time of the year, when the coolness of retreating winter was taken over by the sprouting greenness that could be observed almost in every corner of the town. Along this old, narrow alleyway, tender green vines were climbing all over the faded red brick wall. She was patrolling along the lane when a babbling little girl waved at her from an open window on the second floor. Susana looked up and waved back, and instantly the baby’s chubby face blossomed into an expression of ecstatic joy.

Then she noticed someone watching her down the street. She chose not to look back, and was about to make her way back when a young voice came to her ears. "Hola, Madame! Are you interested in getting a portrait of yourself for only 1000 pesetas?" She was not interested in any kind of busking, but an offer in the artistic form, should it turned out to be that way, could very effectively arouse her curiosity. After a brief thought she cast off her pretence to approach the man on the other side of the street.

Susana intended to smile, speculating that he would be a person undergoing unpleasant life experience, but was surprised to see a good-looking, plainly dressed brunet. It was absolutely not the kind of artist she would expect here, but typical of the local aspirants nevertheless. His apparently gladdened face gave away something more though, and thus naturally warned her against some thing unforeseen to come.

They struck the deal within seconds, as she simply nodded in acceptance after listening to his request and explanation. Thereafter she leaned against a moss-covered wall in shade, in a posture comfortable enough for her to remain that way for half an hour. Meanwhile the young man arranged the easel and palette before sitting on his high stool to commence the work.

Although Susana was in such a position that she did not have to directly face the young man, as she had insisted, she felt her cheek hot whenever he was watching her, looking for every detail on her pretty face and attractive body. It was in fact quite natural for a painter of such kind, yet she found him eerily meticulous as well, as if his eyes were on the verge of devouring her. However, no sooner had this idea evolved than she dismissed it. How could that be? She was inherently nervous with males.

The painting was close completion after the painstaking forty minutes, when Susana requested to have a rest and inspect what had been done. She slowly walked over, her legs stiff, and let out a gasp in appreciation. "This is marvellous work," she said softly to herself. Then she frowned, remembering she had seen it somewhere before.

"Fantastic," said Susana, continuing to view the drawing with critical eyes.

"Needless to say. I am the leading painter in the town." He did not even look up, but a complacent recomposing of expression was easy to perceive. "Lots of girls chase me because of this, you know."

"But I thought my left hand was placed upon my right hand just now, not the other way round. Nor do I think the poise in this portrait, though perfectly reasonable, was the way I did it." She said plainly.

This time the man eyed Susana, half in surprise and half in annoyance, "It’s not the perfect accuracy I am aiming for, it’s the style, inspired by my intuition." Realising his face was turning red, he lowered his eyes again. "When I saw your face, I knew I had seen you somewhere before, and there was an urge inside my mind to portray you. It’s perfect image, you see. Believe me, we are destined to become a couple. I’ve known you in my dream; I’ve got a picture of you in my house."

Susana did not bother to dismiss such jabberwocky. However, she felt lost until the light of memory suddenly dawned on her. The painting on his easel looked almost the same as her self-portrait previously displayed in the café. She was already on her heels when she finally said: "I’ve never seen you before. Where do you live?"

"La Artista." The disheartened artist answered.