“Yeah, that’s what he used to do to balance him.” I borrow his words.
She looks at the largest painting at the end of the room then back to me.
“The ballerina is your mother, isn’t she?” she asks tentatively.
“Yes. This was my father’s way of preserving what he felt for her. Art captures emotions and visions. Each piece is a memory.”
“That’s beautiful. What about those?” She points to the paintings I did that are covered with dust cloths.
I walk over and remove the cloth.
She gasps when she sees the first one. It’s of the snowy landscape in Siberia. I painted it when I was sixteen.
“These are mine,” I tell her. She walks closer to the painting.
The rest aren’t displayed. I didn’t have the respect I do for my father’s.
“You did this?”
“Yeah. My last painting was the unfinished one of my sister you saw weeks ago.”
“Why didn’t you finish it?”
“Ivan. He tainted my love for art.”
“Ivan?”
“I’m sure you can tell we’re not exactly fond of each other.”
“Yes, it’s very clear.”
“He’s my half-brother, and he’s always made it his duty to point out we’re only half related. He’s also always done some shit to screw with my mind. We grew up believing he would be the next Pakhan. I didn’t want to get cast out when that happened, so I got stronger and got rid of everything that made me appear weak. The unfinished painting was part of that decision. It wasn’t until recently that I learned I had a shot at being leader.” That’s all I’ll say regarding Ivan for now. I also don’t want to talk about him anymore. “I want to paint tonight, Malyshka.”
She smiles, and it’s an even better sight.
“What do you want to paint?
“You.”
Her delicate lips part. “Me? You want to paint me?”
“I want to paint you naked in the moonlight. You naked lying on that chaise.” I point to the chaise by the window. She looks at it.
“Me… you want to do that of me?”
I nod. “Yes, Mrs. Dmitriyev. So, take your clothes off for me.”
A sensual flame brightens her eyes as she slides the straps of her dress down her shoulders. The dress floats down to her feet.
I watch her take off her bra and panties, too, and step out of her pumps.
All she is wearing now are my rings. The wedding ring and the engagement ring.
“Is this what you want?”
“You know it is. Now lie down on the chaise.”
She does what I ask. As she lowers herself to the velvet chaise and the moonlight beaming through the doors and windows touches her, she looks exactly the way I imagined.
