"Is this Liya?"
"Yes? Who is this?"
"My name is Aubrey Fosse, and I'm an artist. I was hoping..."
"Oh my goodness! Mr. Fosse! You really called! What can I do for you, Sir?"
"Well, thank you! I hear a compliment in there, somewhere." Aubrey smiled, faintly. Already he wasn't sure that this girl was going to work out. He was tired of people gushing about his past work. He hadn't managed to paint anything worth a damn in years, and this constant fawning wherever he went in the world, seemed condescending somehow. Genius was more of a curse than people gave it credit for being, and he had been cursed while still a child. Now, at 45, he had outlived his passion by about ten years.
"Simeon Steele from the Edna Manley College gave me your name, Ms. Preston. He said that you were a model, and that I might be able to hire you to do some private sessions with me. You came very highly recommended, I might add."
He paused; contemplating lighting a cigarette. He changed his mind. He'd need to think about why it was that even the thought of painting again brought on this anxiety.
"I don't normally do portraits, but I have been thinking that I need to take my work in another direction for a while," he continued. lamely.
He didn't know why he added this last bit, since he didn't know the woman. In any event, if she knew anything about the Jamaican art scene, then she would know that he had returned to the island last year, after years of self-imposed exile and international jet-setting. It had seemed to be the thing to do when his career had stalled. Who knew, she may have had a better idea than he did about why that had been.
"It's okay, Mr. Fosse; I understand. When, and where, do you want me?"
Aubrey smiled again at the unwitting double entendre. It occurred to him suddenly that this Liya Preston person had a very sexy voice. He shook his head; though a jaded old fart, he still appreciated sensual young people: men and women. Maybe she could help him after all.
***
After only thirty seconds' acquaintance Aubrey had to acknowledge that already, Liya Preston was proving to be much more than he had anticipated. The vision of a seeing-eye dog helping a fairly attractive young woman up the steep driveway to his studio had left him speechless. He had wondered, fleetingly, if Simeon had played a joke on him; then it occurred to him that this was the first time since he could remember that he had been surprised about anything. He shook his head still disbelieving what he was seeing, and made a mental note to remember to thank Simeon for the kick in the pants. A blind life model! Trust Simeon to still be able to surprise him with the unusual!
He opened the door to step out into the yard to help her, but thought better of it since he was afraid that she would be offended. He would have been wrong about that since the girl staggered to his doorway, and clung to the railing trembling, and catching her breath.
"Mr. Fosse?" she panted softly, not being sure, but suspecting that someone was standing in front of her watching her progress.
"Yes, I'm here, my dear," Aubrey replied, oddly moved by her. "Was it difficult to get here? I didn't realise..."
"No, no!" she hastened to assure him. "It's just that I'm a little afraid of heights, but I didn't want to just not show up. I know what it means for an artist if his model doesn't come for the session," she gasped. Please, may I come in for a bit? I'm not sure if you still want me...now that you know..."
"Of course, forgive me! I just didn't think to offer to pick you up at the bottom of the hill," Aubrey hastened to let her in.
"No, no, that's not necessary. It's just Rusty and me at the moment, and we take care of each other. I got a lift to the nearest bus stop so we were fine. It's just that I got a little nervous when we kept being directed uphill. I could feel it. I've never been very good with heights since I can't see where I'm going. I'm sorry! It's not your problem. Since I'm here though, I'll do the assignment as agreed, please think nothing of it."
***
Their first session had gone outstandingly well. Liya Preston had been a consummate professional who posed well, striking interesting and dynamic postures, and who held them for as long as Aubrey needed her to do so. Aubrey found himself fascinated by her, and by how well her dog had behaved in his studio. At first he had been a little nervous about that; but since he had spent so much time overseas he had become sensitive to the fact that she would probably sue him if he turned her away because of her dog; especially if it hadn't actually done anything to destroy his studio.
The young woman was about 173 cm tall, just where he could rest his chin on the crown of her head. He had discovered that when he had had to lean into her to help her achieve a particular pose that he had wanted. They had laughed at this, and he had made another joke about her being his crutch. Liya Preston also had the pleasingly well-turned limbs and figure of a modern dancer; and beautiful dreadlocks that she told Aubrey she had been growing for about seven years.
He made another appointment to see her in two days, and he was surprised at how excited he was about the prospect of sketching her again. He found himself buying groceries so that he could offer her something to drink and nibble during her breaks from posing for him, and he put on a clean shirt, and combed his hair, though he knew that she would not have been able to see him.
***
"Beautiful, Liya! Beautiful! Give me some mystery now, my dear!"
Liya picked up the scarf that she had brought with her and threw it casually across her chest and hips, effectively clothing herself from the gaze of the man in the room; but leaving interesting length, line and curve for him to sketch. He paused and gazed at her for several minutes; not drawing anything at all.
"Mr. Fosse?" the young woman seemed puzzled. "I don't hear your pencil. Are you alright?" she asked, softly.
"Yes, my dear. I am. I was just thinking that I wanted to paint you in this pose; not just do a sketch."
Liya's smile brightened into a full grin, and Fosse's eyes widened as the image of a nymph, emerging from a deep sleep on a tuft of forest grass, to greet the dawn, flashed through his mind. Dear God, yes; he had to paint her!
***
"Tell me about yourself, Liya" Aubrey Fosse commanded during one of their sessions. They had been working together for nearly two months, and now that the new semester at the Edna Manley College was about to begin again he had a queasy foreboding that she might go back to that, and that he would lose her services. He felt selfish, and pathetic at wanting to keep her with him, but he had already decided that he was prepared to pay her anything necessary to prevent her from leaving his employ. He couldn't bring himself to beg; though he knew that he would, eventually.
"What would you like to know, Mr. Fosse?"
"Well, for starters, how did you get into this business? Now that I have got to know you a little, I'm surprised that you are a life model."
"I needed a job, and it felt okay doing this. I hate having to take my clothes off in front of strangers sometimes, but it pays well, and there aren't many high-paying job opportunities in Jamaica for a person who can't see," she said, frankly. "I only do the private sessions, like yours, by referral; so it's not as if I'm laying myself carelessly around the place. I'm either in a room with several students of both genders, or with one professional. I didn't mention it, but you came highly recommended by Mr. Steele as well. I didn't really expect you to call me when he asked me for permission to give my number to you, but when you did, I was happy to work with you. I had heard of you, of course, even before he had mentioned you."
She grinned at him brightly; and Aubrey wondered what she had heard. He didn't ask.
***
"Liya, I have to thank you for something," Aubrey murmured one day in February. They had been working together for several months, and he could not remember being more contented. The passion to do his work had returned, but even so, it was not as it had been before. He had to admit to himself that he no longer had the driving ambition that he had had earlier in his career. He supposed that that was because he had conquered all worlds too soon in his life. He had had things too easy. He had pretty much seen, and done it all, and that was what had nearly killed his spirit; until Simeon had thrown him the lifeboat that Liya had turned out to be.
Recently, what Aubrey realised was that he had an urgent need to show this Jamaican beauty to the world. He couldn't remember when it was that he had decided that Liya was a beautiful woman, and that she was worthy of being immortalised; just as any of the famous muses through history had been. She was his Lisa Gherardini; his Christina Olson; his Helga Testorf. He would make her more famous than Zhou Chunya's German Shepherd. He would celebrate her sleek lines, her burgeoning hips, the round buttocks and full breasts that, under other circumstances, he would have wanted to have held in his hands. She wasn't really a classic beauty; he had seen and bedded more attractive women, but she captivated him as no one had before. He found himself wanting to know her more desperately than he could have ever imagined possible.
"Really, Mr. Fosse, what's that?" Liya asked bringing him back from his little daydream about her.
"You've saved me, my dear. You've made me want to paint again. I didn't think that that could happen for me, but you have done it. I will forever be grateful to you!"
"Wow! Thank you for saying that! That's really big. I'm sure that you would have found your muse again eventually, but I'm happy to have helped, even a little."
