Note: this story follow “Gleam.” https://storiesonline.net/s/23987/gleam

A few days later, Nils noticed that Amy had wrapped the portrait he had painted of Tamar. “Getting it ready for the auction?” he asked. “When is it, anyway?”

“Not for a month yet. Why? You want to bid on it?”

“Just curious,” Nils said. “Were there a lot of other paintings?”

“None as good as yours,” Amy said. “Too bad you didn’t do more of her.”

Ever the astute observer, Amy noticed Nils’ sheepish expression. “There are more. You’ve been holding out on us,” she said through a smile.

“Not exactly,” Nils said. “When I dropped off the finished painting, she let me take a few photographs of her. I thought she might want to give them to her husband—little did I know the state of their marriage. She said she’d get back to me about whether she wanted more paintings, but then I never heard from her.”

“Do you still have the photos?” Amy asked.

“I could probably find them,” Nils said.

“Please do,” said Amy.

Nils found the photos on his laptop. “It was a snowy day,” he said. “Maybe I was early. Tamar answered the door wearing a robe. It wasn’t buttoned very well, and I could tell there was nothing underneath. ‘I was just making coffee,’ she said. ‘Would you like a cup?’ I told her that would be fine, but what I’d really like was to get a picture of her standing at the window. It was so white outside, and she had this wistful expression. ‘Like this,’ she said, looking out the window at some squabbling sparrows. ‘That’s great,’ I said, ‘but you know that button on your robe isn’t doing much good. It’s open above and below.’ Tamar glanced at the button, then unbuttoned it. The robe fell fully open. ‘Do you think sparrows have fun when they fuck?’ she asked. ‘Or do they just do it because they have to?’ I said I’d like to think they had fun. She crinkled her mouth.

“‘I guess I really should get dressed,’ she told me. She led me to a little bedroom. ‘I’ve kind of moved in here,’ she said. ‘I think it was supposed to be the maid’s room.’ I had the idea, or maybe just the hope, that sparrows notwithstanding she wanted to have sex. She removed the robe, fetched a pair of panties from the dresser, and stepped into them.

So much for sex. She snugged up the panties, looked at me, and then pushed them down and off. Maybe sex was still a possibility. She took a hairbrush from the top of the dresser, sat on the little bed, and brushed her hair.

‘I hate my hair,’ she told me. ‘I should just cut it all off.’ I told her she had beautiful hair. ‘If I cut it all off, you can have it,’ she said. ‘Or I could toss it out on the snow. The sparrows could nest in it.’ By now I was pretty uneasy. ‘What are you going to do with these pictures?’ she asked. I said I could make paintings from them. I suggested they might make good presents for her husband. Probably the wrong thing to say. She frowned. She dropped the hairbrush on the bed, then nudged it off. She said she’d think about it and let me know.

I took that as a signal I should go, and I left soon after that.”

“So you didn’t fuck her?”

“I would have liked to,” Nils said. “But she didn’t offer and I didn’t ask. The situation just seemed a little precarious. Fraught. And then you and I connected only a few days later, and I pretty much forgot about Tamar.”

Amy nodded. “You should have fucked her. Anyway you’ll be happy to know she still has her long lovely hair. And these are good photos. Maybe you should paint the pictures. We could add the paintings to the auction.”

“Maybe,” Nils said. “but first...”