Painted Faces (49 page)

It's been our little activity over the last week or so for him to continue teaching me how to walk in heels. I've made progress, but by no means am I a pro. He rubs my calf with one hand as he kneels down on the floor in front of me and slips one of the heels onto my foot. He quickly puts on the other one and pulls me up.

“
There,” he says. “Perfect.”

I walk as gracefully as I can manage over to the mirror to admire how the shoes make my legs look more shapely.

“
Not too shabby,” I say, grinning at him through the mirror.

“
Beautiful,” he adds, handing me my clutch bag and then leading me down to the waiting taxi.

When we get to the club the place looks amazing; there are streamers and balloons everywhere. Three drag queens up on the stage are doing a dance routine and miming to an old Madonna song. Nicholas isn't performing tonight, so he leads me up to the bar and orders me a glass of wine. He gets an orange juice for himself.

I haven't seen him touch a drop of alcohol since our trip to Edinburgh. I was going to ask him about it, but I decided not to. Making a big deal will just put more pressure on him to stay sober.

We join Nora and Richard, who are sitting at a table by the stage with Harry and Sean. Nicholas keeps his arm around my waist as we cheer on the performance and sing along. When the song ends one of the drag queens starts calling for Nicholas to come up and sing something. He waves her away at first, but after her endless encouragement he gives in, kisses me once on the lips and steps up onto the stage.

Instead of going to the microphone stand, he walks over to the piano and sits down. He plays a few notes and then gestures for the sound guy at the back of the club to adjust something. Once he's happy with it he rubs his hands on his trousers and turns to address the audience.

“
I want to play a song for the woman I love,” he says. “She doesn't even realise it, but she saved me.” There are several “aws” from the crowd, as well as some guy (who I suspect to be Phil taking the piss) shouting up, “lucky bitch!” Everybody laughs, but Nicholas only smiles and shakes his head. “I've sung to her in the past,” he continues, letting his fingers play a soft little tune on the keys, “but the sentiment hadn't been honest. So now I'll play something that's true.”

His fingers glide effortlessly over the keys as his lips hover close to the mic and he starts singing “Your Song” by Elton John in a low, husky voice. He seems like he's singing to nobody for a moment, like he's looking inward. Then he brings those blue eyes that I adore up to me.

He says I can tell everybody that this is my song.

That he hopes I don't mind if he puts down in words how wonderful life is now I'm in the world.

I can't help it, but my heart is beating fast and my cheeks are blazing red. I stare down at my hands, before forcing myself to meet his gaze. He doesn't look away from me through the entire song. He sings like he's making a vow. It frightens me.

I'm living one of the most sentimental moments of my life and yet I'm scared to death. It's terrifying when you're staring the person you know you want most in the world dead in the eyes, and knowing that they belong to you unequivocally. I soak in the words, the truth of them, how special they make me feel in front of all of these people.

Nicholas and I are far from perfect, but we are heartbreakingly in love with one another and although this may seem like the happy ending of our little tale, it's only the beginning. I want to grow old with this man. I want to have his children. I want to hold him when he's sad and laugh with him when he's happy. I want to put him in dresses and see him become a woman on the stage. I want to keep each and every one of his smiles, mould them into a tangible thing and store them in a box.

I want to heal him with each and every one of our kisses. With every time we make love. Make him see that despite the past, the future holds mysteries that we can explore hand in hand. His melodious voice pulls me out of these thoughts. He looks at me and smiles as he presses down on the final note. I hold his gaze and blow him a kiss.

Dublin, Ireland, Present day.

Clean warm sheets cover Nicholas' body as he stares down at the beautiful woman lying naked and sleeping in his arms. She is the embodiment of all that is female, and all that he strives to replicate as an artist. She doesn't know it yet, but she is his muse now, his everything.

He recalls their first meeting, as the sounds of her deep breathing calm his mind. She'd been soaked from the rain and frustrated, but she'd still shone for him that day, made him laugh. That's what caught him, he thinks to himself, her unending humour, how she could render the world both light and dark with a simple joke.

He runs a hand through her silky, golden brown curls, relishing how every part of her fascinates him. He thinks of the little boy in the dress; the boy he used to be, a lost little boy. Now he can be a man in a dress, but he isn't lost. He has his golden eyed girl to lead his fractured soul through a world that once seemed dark and empty. In the present there's nothing but bright, wonderful sun light.

And even if bad times come, he knows he'll have her to share them with, so they won't really be bad at all. Her acceptance and love is something he didn't even realise he'd been searching for, but now that he has it he knows that he'd die if it got taken away from him. Every time he loses himself in her body, a little bit of the pain gets erased. She washes it away.

He holds her tight, promising himself that he'll never, ever let her go.

END

Thank You For Reading

♥

About the Author

L.H Cosway is a self-employed writer, editor and proofreader. She has a BA in English Literature and Greek and Roman Civilisation and an MA in Postcolonial Literature. She lives in Dublin city. Her inspiration to write comes from music. Her favourite things in life include writing stories, vintage clothing, dark cabaret music, food, musical comedy, and of course, books. You can follow her on twitter at twitter.com/lhcosway and y
ou can contact her at [email protected]. You can also read her blog at lhcosway.blogspot.ie.