Page 4 of Taking A Chance

A new, blank one is collected on my way back to my stool; and now I’m just staring at the white. This is almost worse than the fucked up canvas, but at least it feels like it could be something other than a failure. Maybe I can get that postal service worker lady to come back and sit for me. Did she want to do more than sit? Yes. Will dodging her advances in an effort to paint her be worth it? Also yes.

Maybe I need a fresh subject, too. Not someone I’ve painted before. I wonder if soliciting strangers on the street is against the law.

“Excuse me, ma’am, I know I’m a stranger, but will you come back to my apartment and remove some of your clothing so I can paint you?”

Yeah, that’ll go over swell. I laugh out loud in my empty apartment at the thought. Maybe I need to step away from the project completely and stop trying to force it. Get some fresh air or drown in something else. I swivel around on my stool and notice the stack of bowls next to my full sink and three empty pizza boxes next to the fridge. Or maybe I could clean my apartment and stop living like a fucking slob.

From outside my front door, a noise interrupts my thoughts. It’s subtle at first, like someone approaching, and I realize they’re coming up the stairs.Cora.My neighbor Cora is the only one who uses the stairs. I don’t know what it is about the elevator, but I’ve never seen her use it. She also hates my fucking guts, so maybe it’s an attempt to avoid being inside it with me by surprise. I don’t particularly like her either, though. She calls me a jerk every chance she gets and I hardly think I’ve warranted such hostility. I mean, okay, sure, there was a little misunderstanding. But that was forever ago, and I’ve still never had the opportunity to explain that I wasn’t inviting her into my apartment for sex. I just wanted to paint her.

The noise outside gets louder. So, I move to my door and try to peer through the peep hole to see what’s going on. It looks like she has a man with her, which rarely happens. I know she dates a lot, but most never come back to her apartment with her. I watch the man slide his arm up and around her like an embrace, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it looks like she’s trying to push him back. I press my ear to the door to have a listen.

“Come on, baby,” the male voice says.

“No. Stop,” Cora says.

“We had a good time. You owe me,” the male voice sounds again.

At that, I swing my door open wide, letting my presence be known to both of them. I lean against my doorframe and they both snap their eyes toward me.

“Hey, neighbor,” I say, my eyes finding Cora’s.

“Buzz off,” the male voice says. “We’re in the middle of something.”

“No, we’re not,” Cora says, her fist pressing against the man’s chest as his arms are still trying to hold on around her waist.

“Yeah, I don’t think she likes that,” I say, my eyes ticking to his, my jaw clenching.

“Yeah? And how would you know?” he asks, following it up with, “You had a piece?”

I press my eyes shut, thinking back to the last time I punched someone and hoping I wouldn’t need to update that record.

Cora’s eyes look pleading. Her lips mouth the wordhelp—and I know, no matter what happens, this guy’s gotta go.

Stepping away from my door and further into the hallway, I take a more aggressive stance, dropping my hands to my sides and balling them into fists.

“Yeah, I’m going to need you to go now,” I say calmly.

“I’m sorry, are you the fucking police?” he asks, laughing.

I don’t know what gives this man his streak of confidence. He’s at least three inches shorter than me from what I can tell and doesn’t look all that beefy.

“Take your hands off her and back away before I make it impossible for you to walk down the stairs you just walked up,” I say. It’s not an empty threat. I will do it, and I hope my body language and facial expression give off that impression.

He stands there for a few moments longer, eyeing me, almost as if he’s sizing me up. I can tell in his eyes he wants to ignore me, but after a few moments longer, he finally lets her go.

Cora clutches her purse to her middle, like she’s protecting herself, and I hate that. Sure, she hates me, but I don’t like to see any woman in this state. He backs away slowly, all the while his eyes are attempting to burrow into me. But I’m unfazed.Jackass.I don’t know where men get off thinking they have a right to a woman’s time or body.

Once he’s down the stairs and out of sight, I finally look over at Cora again. Her bottom lip is trembling, and I can tell she’s moments away from crying. I chance moving closer to her, slowly, my steps measured until I’m close enough to reach out and touch her.

Without warning, she leaps at me, her arms coming up around my neck as she sobs against my chest. At first, I stand still, unsure what to do. Eventually, I gently return her embrace and pat her back.

“It’s okay now. The prick is gone,” I whisper.

“Thank you.” She sniffles.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say.

We stand there for several more minutes and I get swept away in my thoughts. I don’t know if I ever realized how tall she is. Standing at six-four, I tower over most women by nearly a foot. Her red hair has always captured my attention. It was one of the reasons I’d asked her into my apartment in the first place. I had an itch to paint those vibrant locks. I can’t say for certain the itch to do that has completely gone away.

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