Beyond the Brushstrokes

Leonard swirls the bristles around in the cerulean mixing it on the palette with the moss green. The hues could be peacock feathers, but today he’s using them to paint the lake. Thin veins of silver add pockets of depth. The water awakens beneath his brush, sending ripples to the shoreline. Nearby a little girl, holding pink cotton candy twisted around a paper cone, walks down the path and out of the painting.

“Oh my,” says Leonard only half-surprised at the child with sticky hands now standing in the middle of his studio, the smell of burnt sugar permeating the room. “I should have given you parents so you don’t wander off.”

The girl pulls off a glob of the spun sugar, putting it in her mouth and licking her fingers. “That would be nice,” she replies. “Could you also give me a baby sister while you’re at it? It gets lonely sometimes with just me and Mama and Papa at home.”

“Consider it done,” says Leonard picking the child up by the waist and plopping her back in his painting. He hastily sketches her parents. The father wipes down the little girl’s chubby fingers while her mother peers into a baby carriage. The little girl turns to Leonard and waves goodbye as the family makes their way down the walkway.

With the smell of cotton candy receding, a floral fragrance wafts from the canvas that Leonard recognizes as lilies of the valley. This draws his attention to a young woman by the water’s edge in a billowy white dress, gingerly dipping her toes in the lake. Once acclimated to the chill, she stretches both legs out above the water and slowly lowers them, wetting the edge of her dress. After a few minutes she kicks up a spray, smiling as the droplets splash her face like spray from a fountain.

The woman picks up her book and puts it in her canoe. She glides the canoe into the lake and deftly draws the paddle down the left side, letting the water drip off the oar, before switching sides and pulling the paddle through the water on the opposite side. As she reaches the far end, a young man spies her gliding across the lake like a swan, her long white neck shimmering below her pale skin. He’ll fall in love with her, Leonard thinks, planning the rest of the painting. But not today.

Today the would-be lovers don’t meet. That will happen later. The smitten young man tosses a ball for his drooling golden retriever who chases after it with abandon, while his gaze strays to the woman paddling the canoe.

The following weekend at the lake, the dog pulls on the lead as the man fights to reign him in. The man chastises the dog with threats of obedience school which neither master nor man take seriously. The man unhitches his leash, patting his head. “Good boy,” he says.

Further down the dirt path, the woman ambles to the boat house. A dog barks, piercing the air. She braces herself for the inevitable greeting. Her body tenses instinctively, a lifetime of fear rising to the surface. Thundering footsteps pound the dirt, growing louder by the second. As Alicia braces herself for the worst, a blur of fur rockets past her. The man shakes his head as the dog disappears from view.

“Don’t mind him. He’s as playful as they come.”

“No, it’s me,” she admits. “I’ve always been terrified of dogs. I was bitten when I was a child.”

“I’m so sorry. Let me get him on the lease.”                

“It’s alright. I’m getting my—”

“Canoe?”

The woman cocks her head and appraises the man like a jewel she’s considering purchasing. “Yes. How did you know?”

“I saw you paddling on the lake.”

The woman feels her a warm blush creep up the sides of her face.

“I’d better go find that goofy dog of mine before he terrorizes anyone else.”

After they part, the man turns around and shouts “Your name?”

“Alicia.”

Oscar repeats the name to himself, thinking that it would be nice to have some female companionship to fill the void that the dog doesn’t.

The figures in the painting move again. Alicia and Oscar picnic under a grove of chestnut trees. The two have been meeting regularly, always at Leonard’s behest, but Alicia can only really relax when Oscar leaves his dog home. In the shade of the trees, Alicia is both hidden and exposed.

Leonard paints Alicia with butterflies coming out of her stomach and chest when she’s with Oscar, but it feels forced so he takes his brush and paints over them. A pentimento of emotions have been covered up, but love is not one of them. Leonard interprets Alica’s emotions, encouraging her to express her true self. He doesn’t force his brush to mold her to his whims. Instead, he observes and captures what she chooses to reveal.

Leonard turned to painting after his fiance left him. He populates his canvasses with idyllic settings and congenial people, giving him a sense of control that eludes him in real life. In the fading light of the evening in his studio, Leonard wonders if his fiance had been more like Alicia if the relationship would have worked our.

For Oscar, Alicia is like a caramel swirl in his coffee, leaving a lingering sweetness even after she’s gone. Leonard stretches his arm out towards the canvas. He wants to help Oscar out, let Alicia know how much he cares for her. He dabs his silk brush in the flesh-colored paint, outlining Oscar’s hand reaching out for Alicia’s. When it finally rests on hers, she does not wrap her fingers around his, nor does she pull her hand away.

A few weeks later, Leonard is putting his finishing touches on the painting. Painting Alicia over and over again has caused him to fall in love with her, just as Oscar has. But it is time to move on to a new canvas, so Leonard gleans one last effort to reunite Oscar and Alicia, squeezing a tube of crimson onto his mixing tray for Alicia’s shift.

When Leonard completes her frock, she looks up at him and smiles.

“You always exercise such care when you design my clothes. They make me feel beautiful, unafraid.”

Alicia is radiant. “I paint what I see. So, if you feel beautiful, that is what you have shown me and it has very little to do with your clothing. My greatest regret is not being able to do you justice.”

“On the contrary, your gift is that you’re able to capture my true essence.”

Satisfied, Leonard conjures Alicia finally moving on with Oscar. She turns her head to see Oscar coming towards her. Everything is balanced, the composition works and the two will finally engage in their happily-ever-after.

Oscar approaches, whistling nonchalantly. Alicia's chest is pounding, rising in her throat with her mounting panic. He’s brought the dog. Every instinct screams at her to run, but her body remains frozen. Realizing his mistake Leonard, wipes over Oscar and the dog with one clean stroke as he tries to protect her. He has revived her fear, obliterated Alicia’s chance at love.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “That was rash of me. I’m afraid I’ve ruined everything for you.”

Alicia makes a gesture he takes to mean both yes and no. For Alicia, Leonard is her hero. He cares for her. He makes her feel safe. When he looks at her, she feels seen. He is able to bring out the very best in her and that is what she values in herself, in him.

Alicia looks up at Leonard with both love and longing. As she stretches her arm, her hand extends beyond the canvass so it is almost touching Leonard.

Leonard’s eyes widen. Finally, he reaches down, clasps Alicia’s hand pulling her out of the canvass and into his life.