The Memory Painter

Layla laughed even harder, making a sound like a duck. “You want to pay me five hundred dollars? Just to paint me?”

Bryan nodded, and found himself laughing again too. All he knew was that he had to keep her with him.

“My clothes stay on, yes?”

“Of course,” he assured her, moving supplies off the lounge chair. “You just sit right here. Your uniform is fine.”

“Right now? But I’m working.” She giggled at his unabashed earnestness. His pastels were already in one hand, and he had money in the other. Bryan’s face started to fall with disappointment, and she added, “I have tomorrow and the next day off. I’m happy to come back.”

“Tomorrow,” Bryan answered immediately. “Here, I like to pay in advance.” He wanted to make sure she didn’t change her mind. He held out the money.

Again, she hesitated. “This probably is breaking the rules with my job.”

“I won’t tell anyone. I promise,” he said. “It’s just a painting.”

*

Bryan had never done a miniature before, but somehow it felt imperative for her portrait to be able to fit in his pocket, and his instincts had never misguided him before. His hand worked with the smallest strokes, relying on Jan Van Eyck’s mastery.

Jan had of course painted countless miniatures in his day, along with paintings of every other size imaginable, but Bryan had always preferred to paint on an expanse of canvas. He had no trouble working with a smaller scale, though. Yesterday, he had returned to the art store and purchased half a yard of linen canvas to work with, along with a small set of oil paints and several fine brushes suited for miniature brushwork. He’d created a three-by-three-inch frame to stretch the fabric for the portrait.

He grinned as Layla erupted into her signature laugh when she saw the tiny square.

“Five hundred dollars for such a little thing?” she asked in disbelief. “You’re crazy.”

Bryan shrugged with a smile, inwardly agreeing, but he grew somber as he studied the lines of her face. He worked in silence a long time, bringing her image to life.

Layla sat still, looking serene as she gazed at the city line from the balcony.