Howie paused in the doorway, taking a moment to study her. She stood before one of the tall windows, the faint light of the city illuminating the mahogany strands of her hair. Her arms were folded tightly in front of her as she gazed out the clear glass, observing the city bathed in darkness. Her delicate profile etched itself in his mind and he thought he had never seen something more beautiful, more fragile.
“I owe you an apology,” Chemelyn told him softly, her voice the only sound to be heard in the quiet apartment.
“I can’t think why. You haven’t done anything.”
“That’s just it,” she turned from the window to face him, dropping her hands to her sides in surrender. Her change in position made her form an exquisite silhouette, her features shadowed from view. “There’s something I’ve been longing to share with you, but have been too afraid to. For that, I’m sorry.”
Howie sighed then began to move toward her slowly. He sensed her eyes trained on his frame, though he still could not see her countenance. “Before another word is spoken, Chem....come to me. I want to be able to see your eyes,”
His request hung in the air between them as she crossed the room. Howie tenderly placed his hands on her forearms, stepping closer to her. The warmth of their bodies seemed to fuse at once, eliciting a contented murmur from Chemelyn. “Now,” he continued, “Whatever you’re sorry for....all is forgiven.”
“No....not until I’ve shown you.” With that, she pulled from his embrace, taking his hand to lead him gently toward the back of the loft. She released him for a moment as she went to the far wall, touching a light switch. The track lighting above the area flooded the portion of the loft, which Howie recognized as her studio space, with light. Gazing around himself, he took note of the canvases carefully stacked against one wall, the easel stationed in front of the balcony, and the empty palette which rested atop a stool.
“I’ve seen all of this before, Chem,” Howie told her affectionately.
“Not all of it....” she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. Moving without haste, Chemelyn advanced toward the nearest of the finished canvases. Howie’s breath caught in his throat as he realized her intent.
“Chem...wait.” he pled, forestalling her actions with an imploring hand. “You told me once, you weren’t prepared to share your work with me....” The hesitant reminder prompted Chemelyn to return to Howie’s side, taking his hands in hers.
“I know...but I’m ready now.”
“Are you sure?” he wondered, locking his gaze with hers. Her vibrant green eyes glowed with certainty, reminding him of translucent shards of jade. Howie lay his palm against her cheek, tenderly stroking her skin with his thumb. Chemelyn leaned firmly into his touch before echoing it. As he felt her hand carefully placed along his jaw, Howie slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her nearer. She came willingly into his arms, her body settling against his as though they had been custom fit to one another. “Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Choose one,” she invited, guiding them to the paintings. Gingerly, Howie selected one of the canvases, carefully gripping it as if he were afraid it might break. Cautiously, he turned the picture in his hands until it’s image faced them. Howie’s breath caught in his throat as he looked upon the watercolor with awe. Chemelyn’s arms slipped around his waist, she leaned her chin on his shoulder from behind. The piece was stunning, alluring in it’s sensibility. It depicted the Sound at sunset, the oranges, reds, and purples of the horizon as vivid as he had ever seen them. The gently rolling waves were almost tangible as they lapped the shore.
“It’s magnificent.”
“That’s pier fifty at twilight.”
“Your favorite place.”
“Yes.” After starring at the picture for a few more moments, Howie laid it aside with painstaking care, as he began to admire a new piece. The second canvas was familiar....as if he had seen it before. Then Howie realized the background of the painting was the interior of the cafe, before the fire. It’s focal point was a man, sitting alone at the counter, a long forgotten newspaper laying unattended as he gazed out the window. A tiny smile played about his mouth; his gray eyes were shadowed, indicating his thoughts were miles away.
“I painted this from a sketch I did at the cafe one day.”
“Why him?”
“He intrigued me. All alone on a rainy day, nothing to do, no where to go. He reminded me of someone who knew exactly where it was he wanted to be, but hadn’t any idea how to achieve that desire. He sat for nearly an hour, not drinking his coffee, but not following his wishes either.”
They continued on in this manner, Howie asking questions about each piece as he learned to sense the emotions behind them. Chemelyn would answer him, always sharing a little something he hadn’t even thought of....always sharing a part of herself. One painting in particular claimed Howie’s interest and he contemplated it for some time, not a word escaping his lips. Chemelyn gazed at the image depicted, trying to guess his feelings, wondering if he even liked the work.
“You were sad,” he said finally, his voice quiet.
The canvas was a unique blend of longing and despair, a vase of flowers the object of concentration. The petals of some of the simple blooms were wilted, others crushed entirely. Their stems wavered weakly, as their leaves drooped forlornly. The entire picture was bathed in tones of blue, the mood nearly tactile. At the wide base of the vase, a single blossom had fallen, it’s life utterly spent. One bud stood bright and tall in the center of the arrangement, a single petal displaced.
Howie swallowed the lump in his throat which had formed as he appraised the picture before him and the emotions it held. Drawing in a ragged breath, he placed the canvas aside, gently taking Chemelyn’s hands from around his waist as he pivoted to face her. Pulling her firmly into his arms, he held her tightly, fiercely, never wanting to let go.
“I’m sorry, Chem....so sorry,” he murmured into her hair. She stroked the back of his neck in a comforting motion, soothing him softly. “I’m never going to let you feel that kind of pain again.” His intense vow touched her heart, bringing a tender smile to her lips.
“Howie...it’s all right. Without having experienced these emotions, the value of what we have might be lessened. It makes our relationship even more priceless. You’re the antithesis of those feelings. You make me appreciate the good things in life.”
“You’ve always felt that way about the beautiful, Chem,” he reminded her, leaning back to gaze into her eyes.
“True....but it’s so much more powerful with you here.” The light of a thousand endearments shone in her eyes, and instinctively, Howie knew those feelings were mirrored in his own brown orbs. Caressing her back rhythmically, with affection which knew no bounds, Howie cupped her chin with gentle fingers.
“I love you Chemelyn Clavaro.” His lips lowered to hers, pressing against her sensitive flesh lightly at first, then with growing intensity. They clung to one another, the heat and rise of their passion binding their bodies together as one. Chemelyn’s arms wrapped around his neck as she arched herself against him, raising herself on her toes as though straining to be inside his skin. Her mouth and her heart opened for him; he needed no second invitation as he planted his hands firmly on her hips, pulling her nearer.
The room spun wildly, finally forcing their kisses to break. The heady experience left them breathless, anxious for the taste and touch of the other to return. Howie leaned his forehead against Chemelyn’s, their eyes locking.
“I’m so glad you shared all of this with me.”
“So am I.....I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner.”
“Don’t be. All the truly great things in life are worth waiting for.”
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