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bed?”
I laughed. “Maybe afterwards. If you’re good and don’t fidget too much.”
I positioned him standing in front of the fan. His hair blew in the breeze.
“How should I look?” He struck a pose.
“Not like that. Just be yourself.”
“Don’t you want me to adopt an anguished expression?”
“I’m not sure Jesus was anguished. I don’t see him like that. Don’t pull any faces—just stand there. And don’t move.”
“You’re the boss.”
He stood for about twenty minutes. Then he broke the pose, saying he was tired. “Sit down, then. But don’t talk. I’m working on the face.”
Gabriel sat on a chair and kept quiet while I worked. I enjoyed painting his face. It’s a good face. A strong jaw, high cheekbones, elegant nose. Sitting there with the spotlight on him, he looked like a Greek statue. A hero of some kind.
But something was wrong. I don’t know what—maybe I was pushing too hard. I just couldn’t get the shape of his eyes right, nor the color. The first thing I ever noticed about Gabriel was the sparkle in his eyes—like a tiny diamond in each iris. But now for some reason I couldn’t catch it. Maybe I’m just not skilled enough—or maybe Gabriel has something extra that can’t be captured in paint. The eyes remained dead, lifeless. I could feel myself getting annoyed.
“Fuck,” I said. “It’s not going well.” “Time for a break?”
“Yeah. Time for a break.”
“Shall we have sex?”
That made me laugh. “Okay.”
Gabriel jumped up, took hold of me, and kissed me. We made love in the studio, there on the floor.
The whole time, I kept glancing at the lifeless eyes in Gabriel’s portrait. They were staring at me, burning into me. I had to turn away.
But I could still feel them watching.