-Two Realms (Romance Thriller)

Read Story: Two Realms (Romance Thriller)… Part 28

A story written by INEGBENOISE OSEODION OSAGIE. (07068221839, 08093828575, [email protected])

Watercolour trickled down the canvas. Ivie wiped it off with a foam before it could reach the canvas’ edge. A knife, she dug into a well of her palette and stirred a mix of beige and cobalt blue. She positioned closer to the easel and began a primer.
The man walking around in the gallery had been around since she opened and he had not picked any of the paintings or ordered for any. All he did was ease around with a raised head and hands in pockets, viewing the paintings hung up.
After much walking, he asked for a big-board painting.
She dropped her brush in the palette and cleaned her palms on her apron. “Painting of what?” Ivie asked.
The beard curled round his jaw loosened as he fondled it. “Let me see what you have.”
She walked to the big-board painting at the bottom and carefully glided them against themselves to avoid them screeching against each other. “They’re mostly landscapes.”
He advanced towards her and picked those she had gone through.
She budged for him to crouch by her. While crouched, he pored over almost every of the paintings. “Nothing other than landscapes, animals and plants?”
“None on a big board, but I can do what you want.”
“I need a big board picture of an orchard. 7 by 7 ft., a full picture of me also on a 7 by 7, and a small board of two babies, like the small board sizes you have around. Can you give me that?”
“You have their photos?”
“Give me babies from your imagination, while I’ll bring the photo of the orchard on my next coming. First, begin with the babies. He reverted to viewing the landscapes painting.
“Babies, male or female?”
The question had him gazing thoughtfully at a board as though he had never thought of it. “Both. Twins. Identical.”
“Black or whi—”
“Paint anything beautiful.”
“What about you? Do you have a photo of yourself?”
“I’m here. You can start the painting right now.”
The customer sounded as though it was the normal to paint someone in person. No one had ever asked her for a face-to-face painting, and that should be same for other painters.
“Sorry, sir, I don’t paint people in person.”
Before she finished talking, his eyes were already at her, almost glaring, or just staring.
“Why?” he asked.
“It’s a choice.”
“I’m paying for it.”
“I appreciate your pay, sir, but I don’t do that.”
He raised his brows in a manner that clearly said she was the only painter in the universe who didn’t paint customers in person. “Why don’t you paint people looking at them?”
“I’m better off painting from photos.”
After another talk with his eyebrows, one she didn’t quite understand, he rose and made for the bench, cracking fingers that cracked as though the bones were being broken. “When do I bring the photos?”
“Any suitable time.”
“You’ll be here tomorrow?”
“I’m always here.”
“Expect me then.”
He adjusted his sleeves and made for the door. She watched him leave and imagined a scene of her sitting front of a man, painting a picture of him. There would be lots of errors and all the blames would be on her. Some painters did it. It could be a distinct specialty. One day she’d try. But not with that man.
He entered his gold car, started the engine and wheeled back.

To Be Continued….

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