The Self-Portrait

It was a sunny, breezy day and I didn’t have to go to work. I had planned to go out and let the day take me where it may and that was why I was at the corner of Greenpoint Ave and Manhattan waiting on the B61 to take me somewhere. The bus pulled up and I waited as it stopped and unloaded its passengers. I noticed some commotion as the last person tried to exit. It was a very pretty girl and she was carrying large pieces of canvas and having a hard time. The other passengers, instead of helping her, yelled at her and scolded her as she scraped them with her bulky bundles.

As she finally stumbled off the bus some of the canvases fell out of her hands onto the dirty sidewalk.

Busy pedestrians walked carelessly nearly trampling the pieces until I started to pick them up. The girl seemed very distressed but, it did not scar her beauty.

She was such a gorgeous girl. Obviously Polish, her features like a fairy or a pixie, her blonde hair was silky and long. When she spoke, it was with a sweet polish accent and I instantly felt endeared to her. She thanked me with a tone of humility and I could tell she was about to break down and cry.

I asked her where she was going and if I could help her carry the pieces. She explained that she was going a block up the street to where she lived and, that she could manage. At this point this woman had intrigued me and I wasn’t going to let her get a way that easily so I persisted but, she wouldn’t give in.

I handed over the pieces and she tried to gather them together but, they kept falling out of her hands. She was distressed and started to cry. I told her that she needed a drink. I was only joking considering it was only 10:00 a.m. but, she smiled and nodded and said that she would love a drink.

I quickly tried to think of a place that would be serving something stiff and then I grabbed her pieces and told her to follow me. We walked a few blocks to a restaurant called Christine.

We grabbed a table, I ordered a beer and she ordered vodka, a double. As we waited for the drinks she just stared past me, she seemed shy and nervous. She kept darting looks at me waiting for me to say something but, I just sat giving her a moment to relax. She looked worried and I could tell that she was burdened by a lot of things.

She finally laughed to her self and said. "You must’ve thought I looked very ridiculous carrying these things off of that bus." I just smiled. The drinks came and she downed her double vodka before the waitress could leave. She ordered another and began to tell me how she came to be carrying these pieces of art.

She was in fact an artist and these were her pieces. They were hanging at a restaurant but, the owner was an asshole and made some unwanted advances toward her. When she refused him his true intent was made known. He threw her artwork out on the street. She had no choice but, to go and the get the pieces herself.

After another double and another double we were both talking generously and I could tell she was feeling a lot better. I could also tell she was enjoying my company and she would give me certain glances that I knew were telling me she might kinda like me. I suggested we drop the pieces of art at her apt. She then seemed worried again and that distressed look came over her face. She then told me that she was married and that her husband was at home. I was a bit disappointed by this although I knew there were ways around it.

I also noticed she didn’t have a ring on her finger. That is when she explained to me that she had married a man just to get citizenship in America. She was originally from Poland. She came to America to live with friends, here in Greenpoint, she found a job and soon found a man and married him. She had been married for seven years now and still no citizenship. She didn’t love her husband and he didn’t love her. I asked her if he was mean to her and she said no but, that she wasn’t happy. I wanted to make her happy even for a day or for just a couple of hours. I told her that I lived just a few blocks away and that I had a little bit of pot there. She liked this idea so I paid for the drinks and we were off to my apt. After we got stoned, I started to really look at her pieces. They were brilliant really. They were portraits of her friends back in Poland. She had painted them from her photos.

There was one that she had of herself from a picture that a friend had taken. It had that familiar worried, that sad look on her face. It was in her eyes and in her expression. She had captured it perfectly and it amazed me. I told her how wonderful I thought her art was and I tried to encourage her to keep trying and not give up. We talked about art, and we talked about her friends from Poland. She showed me a piece she painted of an ex-boyfriend who she was still in love with. She told me stories about him and all the things they did. I could tell she was getting turned on thinking about him. And, it was really great when she told me that I reminded her of him and then touched my hand. As soon as she did that my penis moved and I felt a small jolt in my groin. Without a thought I leaned in to kiss her and she pulled me on top of her.

We made love there on the couch with her portraits as an audience. Afterwards we talked more and she giggled and smiled and glowed in a way that I could never forget. It was in such contrast to the portrait of herself. I began to ask her about it. I had decided if I could afford it I would buy it. She seemed very flattered that I liked it so much and that I wanted it. "You can have it, something to remember me by." She said. "Well, I should give you something to remember me by." I said. She laughed and said "Oh, you did, something I haven’t had in a long time." She gave me a long kiss and then got up and got dressed. She was now in a hurry to get home knowing her husband would be wondering about her in fact he had called her mobile phone a few times. I called a cab and helped her out with the remaining pieces. I gave her a short kiss and she drove off.

I hung the portrait and many nights I would stare at it and meditate on it. I wasn’t in love with this woman. I was more drawn to her story and her life and it was all there in that portrait. I knew that the short time I spent with her I saw something more than the worry and fear and burdens and I believed that one day she would have all the joy she desired. I would close my eyes and see her smile and laugh and over time the portrait itself started to look different. Often times I would think that I saw her on the street but, couldn’t tell.

Sometimes I would walk on the block that I knew she lived but, never saw her. Years past and her memory was always there. I would sit and look at her portrait and wonder if she was still in New York. Was she in Poland? What had happened to her? I would look at her portrait and try to remember, the worried look the distressed features but, I couldn’t recall it.

The portrait was not of a woman worried and distressed. It was of a beautiful, glowing, radiant woman, it looked positive and empowered. One night I was out with some friends in Manhattan and I walked past an art gallery. I happened to glance in and a familiar thing caught my eyes. It was her art hanging on the walls. There was a crowd of people and I saw her. She was laughing, she looked beautiful, people were coming up to her and talking to her obviously complementing her. Then I saw a tall, dashing guy come up to her and hug her. He looked Polish and like the portrait she had shown me of her boyfriend from Poland. I knew it was him. Just for a moment she looked in my direction and she locked with my eyes. I smiled and walked off.