The Painter..

"Would you paint me?"

He looked at her and calmly answered, "No".

"But you promised. It's been 6 years."

He looked at her knowing that this argument had been happening more & more frequently of late, "But we have been over this so many times. I have told you. I just can't do it."

She knocked down one of his easels, "But I want you to! What use is your talent if you can't do a such a small thing for me!"

He pleaded, "You don't understand. I can't do it to you. I love you."

"So you can paint all these other people. Show-off your talent to the whole world but you can't do this one thing for the woman you tell that you love above all?"

"That's precisely the reason I can't do this."

She tried tactfully, "But why? You keep telling me that I am the most beautiful woman you have known. Can't you do this for me? For us? You haven't painted anyone in all these years! Think of what it can do for you!"

He looked at the paintings on the walls around him. His life's work and felt the burden of guilt. Every gift comes with a price.

He told her with a tone of finality," I wouldn't".

We all wear masks and this was perhaps the cue she needed for her to drop hers.

"What do you think? Why did I marry you? Look at you! Old, disintegrating, half-senile. I wanted to be one of your masterpieces. That's all I wanted from you. To be immortalized. To be seen and appreciated by the world. To be be admired for posterity"

He looked at her anguished. More anguished because he had been denying these truths to himself all years.

He tried to deny the reality feebly,"But you told me that you love me."

"So did I to many others. Words come cheap."

He tried finding some solace,"But you have been faithful to me?"

She laughed cruelly," What do you think?"

Her words shattered his weakly held faith like a rock crashing through glass. He collapsed on a chair & started weeping.

She looked at him coldly,"I'll be leaving in the morning. It would be best if you don't create a scene by trying to stop me"

He wished he never saw the morning. He sat awake through the night. Regretting the illusions of the beautiful life he had built & pondering if there was any reason to continue. At the first crack of dawn, he heard sounds from the bedroom and stood up resolutely.

He walked in to the bedroom. Their room. He thought he should have felt the pangs of happier memories, that his steps would falter. They didn't.

"I will paint you. This would be my last gift to you"

She turned surprised,"Will you? I am still going to leave though."

"It would be my most revered work. I owe it you."

She couldn't help but smile. " Oh why did you have to deny me all this while!"

"I just wanted to see how much you wanted it"

"Alright. Let me get ready. Should I come down to the studio?"

"There's no need. My brush & your beauty is all we need."

She held his hand & walked with him to the studio. He smiled inwardly. It had been a while since she had shown him such care.

He seated her on a stool and picked up his palette. She was smiling. He started mixing his colors & using them on the canvas.

"Something is happening. I am not feeling right"

"Relax Lisa, you are just feeling nervous". As he continued painting, he smile grew. 

"Leo, I don't know what's going on. I am feeling lighter, like I am fading". On the canvas, her portrait began looking more & more life-like.

"And how do you think my paintings have always looked so real?".

She screamed. But they slowly receded until they were trapped in the canvas. 

He laughed maniacally as he applied the final strokes. "Keep smiling. After all, you wanted to be a masterpiece Mona Lisa".