Petrichor ~ Lewis Hamilton

12

March 28, 2021, Monaco

Elaine's POV

Like a moth to a flame I felt a pull towards the only place I felt safe at this moment.

I didn't feel up to working, too many things were going through my mind right now and I think that was exactly why I ended up taking the brush.

I lost track of time, too caught up in trying to nail that dimple that appears when he smiles or the wrinkle in his shirt that he wore in Paris.

I only came back to reality when, while trying to put a little more paint on the palette, I realized that I had run out of one of the tubes. And of course, since I was making questionable decisions, why not one more?

I grabbed my cell phone and called Gina to see if she could bring me a new one, I hadn't brought my car and she accepted without delay.

When I hung up the call I checked and saw that I only had one message from Lewis, it was an old one, a photo of Roscoe sitting in front of his feet, I guess he sent it to me just before I got there, I turn off my phone and leave it on the table.

Gina arrived in just ten minutes, the time it took me to make a couple of coffees for both of us.

"Have you brought the paint I asked for?" She handed me a white opaque bag and I took out the new package. I ripped it open and took out the yellow tube. "Perfect, I had run out of yellow and I couldn't quite get it right without it"

"Hey, hey Ela, something wrong?" She laid her hand on my shoulder.

"Does it look like something is wrong with me?" It bothers me that she can read through me so easily, that no matter how much I try to appear calm and collected she can see that it's a facade.

"I feel like that's a trick question"

"I'm fine" I see how her gaze wanders to the half-finished painting behind me, I realize that she is looking at it and I quickly go to the easel to turn it around.

"You look ready to run away"

I take a deep breath and press the back of my hands to my eyes.

"He bought me the painting, Gigi" When I see her again she has a serious look, probably trying to understand what I'm talking about.

"Which one?" She wondered crossing her arms over her chest.

"The one from London"

"The house one?" She asked with raised eyebrows.

"No...no, the painting about my mother, the... He looked at it with such tenderness, as if he were trying to get inside it and be able to understand it" I felt my chest tighten again, possibly anxiety about everything that has happened. "And he tried...you know? He always looks for rather negative meanings in my paintings, it's not that it's very difficult, most of them are right but I told him that this was one of my favorites"

"It's a sad painting" She saw me create that painting practically from scratch, of course she knows what it's about.

"I know but he tried not look it like that... I don't know it didn't seem so sad after he saw it. And I really wanted him to buy it, you know how reluctant I have been to sell it"

She laughed, probably remembering all the time the painting was thrown in the corner of the studio, hidden from the world.

"You didn't want it to go to some random snob." I shake my head and throw the pallette in the sink, realizing that I'm probably not going to do anything else for the rest of the day.