Chapter 4

Portrait Of My Desire
by Rhonda Findling

(Page 7 of 11)

Too upset to wait for the bus Sharon flagged down a taxi. Leaning her head back against the seat of the cab, she pulled her coat around her for comfort. "What have I just done?" Sharon thought. "I've dreamt my entire life of meeting a sexy, glamorous man who is actually interested in me, and now that it's happened I blew it. What's wrong with me anyway? Am I completely out of my mind?"

A wave of relief washed over Sharon when she opened the door to her warm, cozy apartment. She put some water on for tea and changed into her old, worn out, flannel nightgown. The tea kettle began to whistle. Sharon poured some water into a styrofoam paper cup, along with milk from a container that she had accidentally left out before leaving for the party.

She went to her studio and turned on the lamps. The five-hundred watt bulbs lit up the room. Her art supplies, turpentine, linseed oil, paint thinner, brushes, jars and tubes of paints were scattered on a large table. A large easel stood in the middle of the room. Her paintings and sketches were everywhere. Some were finished, but most were in various stages of completion. Newspapers cluttered the studio floor, covered with dust from the colored pastels she was using. She put the radio on, turning to a station that played romantic love songs. Removing the sketches of a vase from her easel, she put on a fresh sheet of paper. Blocking out David's face in charcoal she tried to remember everything about him, as if he was standing right in from of her.

"We've Only Just Begun", the very song Sharon danced to with David came on. Overwhelmed with frustration she began to cry. What caused her to run away like that? It was as if she had panicked. Maybe it was from years of hearing her mother cautioning her to be leery of men. "Don't fall in love with men! They'll destroy you if you let them!" Her mother had been drilling her about the dangers of love ever since her father left. She could still remember her mother getting especially upset on the night of her very first date, as if it were yesterday.

She was fifteen, and standing in front of the bathroom mirror applying eye shadow for the first time. The saleslady at the makeup counter told her that afternoon that she should use blue eye shadow because she had violet eyes. She was never really interested in makeup before. Sketching and painting was all she seemed to think about. Then she got to know Jerry, the most handsome boy in the tenth grade. The new chemistry teacher made the class sit in alphabetical order and she ended up sitting next to Jerry. He told her how hard it was for him to understand science. He had even been left back a year. Sharon felt sorry for Jerry and let him copy off her on their next test.. Sharon got a 92 and Jerry got an 84. He began talking to her after class. Yesterday he asked her to go to the movies. Sharon opened the box with the mascara and applied it cautiously. She blinked, surprised at how different she looked now. Her mother knocked on the door. "Sharon, you've been in there for over an hour. Nina has to use the bathroom. What are you doing in there?" "Nothing."

Sharon realized she left the lipstick in her bedroom and opened the door.

"What's that stuff all over your face?" her mother asked.

"Makeup."

"Why are you putting on makeup?"

"I have a date."

"With who?"

"Some boy at school."

"You didn't tell me you were going on a date."

"I didn't think I had to."

"I warned you about the boys at school. They'll distract you from your schoolwork, and only cause you pain in the end."

"Like daddy leaving?" Sharon asked, immediately wishing that she had never said such a cruel thing. But her mother had gotten her so angry.

"Yes, like your father. I met him when I was in high school, and I gave up all of my dreams to marry him. Look at where it got me. He up and left me."

"Well I want to have a boyfriend and fall in love."

"Love is a big waste of time and energy."

"Mother, I'm just going on a date."

"That's how it all starts."

Sharon applied the lipstick in front of her bedroom mirror, thinking that she was not going to let her mother ruin this date. Her excitement returned when she heard the doorbell ring. "I'll get it," she called out.

Her heart fluttered at the sight of Jerry standing on the front porch. "Hi. I'll be right there." She ran over to her mother and kissed her on the cheek. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

Driving his mothers' car, Jerry spoke to Sharon about wanting to get on the varsity football team. Sharon listened with rapt attention. During the movie, Sharon could barely concentrate she was so nervous. She turned around to look at Jerry three times, but he was always watching the movie and eating popcorn.

Afterwards, Jerry drove to a secluded area in the woods and parked the car. He leaned over and kissed Sharon. She felt his tongue in her mouth and it felt awkward. Maybe, because she had never kissed a boy before.

"Jerry," Sharon said, pulling away. "I'm a little scared."

"Come on Sharon, it was just a kiss."

He kissed her again. Sharon was figuring out how to kiss back and even starting to like it, when she felt his hand underneath her blouse.

"No, stop Jerry. We have to know each other better."

"I thought you liked me?"

"I do, but . . ."

"If you really liked me then you'd let me touch you." He kissed her more forcefully, while trying to open her blouse. Sharon didn't resist this time. He took her hand and put it between his legs. It felt hard and lumpy.

"No. Stop," Sharon said firmly.

"Aw, come on!"

Jerry unzipped his pants and pulled out his penis. It looked long and pink in the dark. He took Sharon's hand and put it on his penis. "Come on, make me feel good."

"No!" Sharon yelled, pulling her hand back.

Jerry tried to climb on top of her.

"Stop it!" she yelled.

"What's your fucking problem?"

"I don't want to do this."

"You're a God-damned cock tease! I should've known better than to go out with you," he said, getting off her. "Everyone at school thinks you're weird, with all the long skirts and weird earrings."

About the Author

www.rhondafindling.com
Rhonda Findling, M.A.,C.R.C. is the author of "Don't Call That Man! A Survival Guide To Letting Go" (Hyperion), "The Commitment Cure" (Adams Media) and "The Dating Cure" (Adams Media) and her debut novel "Portrait of My Desire". She is a dating coach and psychotherapist. She has been in private practice in New York for the past 20 years and consults (by telephone) with clients all over the world.