Page 20 of Portrait of A Lost Artist

Before I could totally regret my decision, I got out of the car, carrying my beach bag in one hand and using the other to lock the door.

My sandals waltz and deepen on the sand, expecting to see brightened skies and endless trails of people rushing to get to the water, but the clouds have gathered in what could be the teaser of upcoming rain.

Judging by how the weather has been lately, I highly doubt it’ll pour.

I shattered the quiet by saying his name, ‘Nathan,’ and watching him turn, I got struck with a sudden, profound sense of ‘I shouldn’t have done this. ’

He stands with a smile that crinkles his eyes and shows genuine happiness to be there.

Grinning, he pulled off his cap, ran a hand through his damp hair—he must have taken a dip—and then put it back on.

His arms flexed, his legs stretched, a captivating display as he advanced, his hand waving, his voice a raw shout.

I fought, with an intensity I didn’t know I had, to keep my eyes from lingering.

“ ?Camarón! ”

Huh?

I put on my sunglasses, perhaps because that will make me look at him less directly, before smiling. “Is there any apparent reason you’re calling me shrimp? Because I know you said you’re learning beach-related words, but...that’s not how you use the word.”

He stopped abruptly, standing directly opposite me, the disparity in our heights immediately noticeable.

And his exposed chest, a vision against the scattered clouds, became an unavoidable distraction.

“Shit, sorry, I meant ‘se tardó’; as in, it took you long to get here. I get confused sometimes and I was—” I start laughing at his rapid speech before he’s grumbling.

“My Spanish has gotten better, I swear! I was just studying another topic and got it mixed up.”

Nathan informed me a few nights ago when we were mindlessly talking through text about how our days went, that he had his first Spanish quiz in just a few days. “How did the test go?”

He licks the inside of his cheek, looking over to the side before clearing his throat. “I’d rather not say. Due to my Spanish teacher’s very objective and strict nature, my performance suffered. But I’ve been studying!”

Easily stealing laughs from me, I sit down on the warm sand and toss my head back, spreading my digits in between its silky texture. I hear him moving to my side, taking the same position as me. “You never told me who your teacher is. I know he’s your roommate, but I’ve never visited you...so...”

“He just doesn’t like visits.” Nathan adds, munching on his bottom lip before looking at me from the corner of his eye. “What?”

“As if that doesn’t sound highly suspicious. Is it a wife? Because if it’s a wife, I’m considering it inappropriate that we are here together.” It wasn’t meant to be a date, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I understood how they could be taken that way.

Nathan shakes his head. “I don’t have a wife.” A long breath goes through his nose as he extends his legs in front of him. “I’ll tell you just because you’re looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ll get an answer regardless of me mindfully giving it to you.” He says. “I don’t know if you know Benicio Gutierrez. He’s an old teacher who had a spare room and whom I met when I got here. I didn’t want to stay alone in a hotel, so...we started being roommates.”

“Of course, I know Benicio!” I say. Everyone in this town has, at least, some second-hand knowledge about the people living here.

“Benicio had a partner. My mom tore him to shreds for years when she was in her most religious stance. I guess he must stay away from us because of that, but we have talked a bit in the past.”

Nathan’s eyes fill with empathy, trailing over my face. “He’s an amazing man. I...I didn’t know there were still some people who thought like that here.”

I shrug my shoulders. “I can’t change how my mom thinks, so I only shaped myself to not think like she does.

Don’t believe that just because she’s this judgmental, ridiculously religious person, I am like that.

I serve people at church because I believe there is a God and a greater good that we can give, but we’re not here in this world to pick who deserves that goodness or not.

” I annunciate, resting my head on the edge of my hand, elbow propped on my thigh.

“Differentiating yourself from your parents, I believe, is the best thing about adulthood. It rids you of the expectation people may have of you.” Nathan adds, curt words escaping his lips.

“I don’t talk to my parents enough. We never had that.

..bond of being all over each other’s lives.

I know they care about me, but the more I got compared or expected to be like them, the more they got mentioned. ..the more I wanted to separate.”

With a thunderous roar, the waves surged against the shore, and a fine mist of seawater settled on my skin.

“Look at me. I could’ve stayed in Texas, but I had to come back.

As much as I hate how she is, she’s still my mother.

I am not the best person to talk about the difficulty of parents’ and children’s relationships.

” Soon after, I am changing the subject.

“How are your drawings doing? People around the restaurant were talking about them.”

“Still as free as ever.”

“God, you really must be rich for you not to ask for the slightest bit of money.”

“You said we have to give good to people. I’m not religious, but I can, at least, bring some joy to people’s lives.” Nathan whispers. “It works as a distraction. I remember I used to do it for the same reason back in the day.”

“So, you’ve missed it.” My heart tugs at the weight of those words, because I can connect with what he is saying. Art has that effect.

“Of course.” He affirms. “So, I was kind of wondering...”

“Yes?”

“How good are you at swimming?”

“A fish out of the water, excuse you.” I joke around. A glint of pure mischief danced in his brown irises, and then he was on his feet. “Why? Need me to hoist you on my back and help you puppy-swim around the shore?”

His smile widens. Bigger and bigger, expanding muscles in my heart and soul that had felt constricted and exhausted the past few months. “Oh no, no.”

“Then?”

“Come swim with me.”

What I didn’t expect as I was getting ready to stand up was for Nathan to hoist me up himself.

One arm curls under my knees, the other ending on my shoulders before he’s rushing to the shore.

I screech, pressing a hand to his chest and feeling his heart hammer against his thorax.

As the towering waves crashed against us, soaking us completely, he released me, the sudden rush of water blinding me momentarily before I surfaced.

“Nathan!”

I had never seen him laugh like he did at that moment. Head thrown back as if he was a kid, eyes squeezed shut. He has his hands on his chest while he says: “Sorry, I just really wanted to see your surprised face and it’s just as good as I imagined it to be.”

“ Ha-ha .” I mock laughter before throwing water directly at his face and into his mouth. That caused his eyes to open, and his laughter to subside slightly. “Now my dress is all wet.”

“Oh, come on, we were going to swim, anyway.”

“I didn’t bring any change of clothes.”

He shushes me, throwing water at my face as well. “Live one day at a time; we’ll think about that later.” I repeat the motions he just did, only to hear him cackle. “Hey, I’m trying to talk to you. Don’t splash me!”

“You’re so fucking rude.” I laugh along, then propel myself towards him, pushing his shoulders to make him stumble. “Not so much of a superb swimmer, aren’t you?”

His fingers wrap around my wrist, tugging me closer. While the water droplets on his eyelashes were a captivating sight, the warmth of his body and the closeness we shared were abruptly forgotten when the rain began to pour.

His smile holds a dangerous allure, threatening to consume my attention entirely. He moves his hands, as if to embrace the falling water, but I interrupt with a:

“No way it’s raining! It’s been hell on earth the past few days!”

“Your dress was going to get ruined either way.” The tinge in his eyes and the quirk of his eyebrow let my mind roam on the possibilities.

Would it be too much to think of his big palms spreading on the straps of the dress, pulling them down before settling a chaste kiss with his plump bottom lip to caress the skin across my clavicle?

“The rain makes me feel safe.” He adds, now a bit more seriously.

The wind rips his cap away, but he seems oblivious, or perhaps indifferent, as he stretches his arms wide and smiles up at the sky.

“It reminds me I’m not the only one with some gloominess inside. Even the universe has its down days.”

“...And it doesn’t make it any less beautiful.” I complete for him, only to have him looking at my face for a second longer than necessary. The corner of his mouth lifts in amusement before nodding.

“I like that.”

Thankful of not having put makeup on, I place my hands on my cheeks and push my hair away from my face. Though, the rain keeps pouring and I have to wake up from the daze we are in.

“We’re going to get a cold if we stay here.”

The thunder’s violent strike fractures the sky, its sound resonating through my very being, and I find myself instinctively drawn to Nathan. He watches the storm with evident pleasure, but I pull him closer by his forearms.

“I think the rain’s getting too strong.”

His arm casually drapes across my waist, and I freeze, overwhelmed by the sensation of his skin against mine. ‘Comfort’ is far too inadequate a word for what I feel as he shifts his gaze from the sky to meet mine with equal intensity.

“We can’t drive back like this. Much less me.

I came here on my bike.” Nathan responds, caging me to his waist as he walks us away from the water.

The waves have grown reckless, and it takes a bit more effort to pass through the water and the sand, grayness overtaking us.

“Should we get in the car and wait there?”

“I have some pocket money and there’s a motel nearby.” I respond. “So, we can dry up and...I don’t know, the wind’s getting a little strong. I’m afraid of staying outdoors.” My reasoning seems like enough for me, because he grabs the dampened bag I had left on the sand.

“Lead us there.”

We run like children towards our destination.

The lights blaring a path for us to follow as the afternoon turned grimy.

The motel I had heard about is called ‘Augusto’, commonly visited by tourists and couples who wanted some delightful time alone in the water.

It wasn’t the best place, walls a little too old, lights flickering at the storm, but it meant shelter.

So, Nathan pushes open the doors, water dripping from us both, likely soaking the brown carpet as we enter. The beachgoers we’d seen are crowded at the counter, requesting rooms. It is possibly the most action this motel has seen in years.

“Guess we have to wait.” He says.

Shivers go up and down my spine. The storm has grown louder, stealing a few screams and tears from the people asking for rooms. It’s peculiar; Havana is no stranger to storms, but never one of this magnitude.

Just our luck.

Hopefully, once we get a room, I get to call everyone else to see if they are fine.