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A Drawing of Me
A Drawing of Me
by Andrea Barragán
Pete was sitting on his $3 wooden stool; he bought it at a thrift shop while looking for underwear and a new set of pastels. That night, he sat at his usual spot right outside the Golden Nugget, watching people pass by, hoping to catch an eye. He believed that was the best place to get customers, and it usually was. Pete had the steadiest hand in Nevada. He started speed-drawing people in the pedestrian crossing between New York New York and Planet Hollywood, and if he were lucky enough that day, someone would actually take the portrait and thank him with a smile, he received five dollars once, and it felt like a million.
Pete came down to Vegas from Idaho with the naive illusion of beating the house. He booked a room at the Bellagio and kissed his juicy inheritance goodbye in just one sit at the Blackjack table; it was a generous sum provided by his diseased father who trusted Pete with the family business. Now, he comes in to Fremont St. where every night he sets his little easel, thick drawing paper, pencils, pastels and two stools facing each other, hoping to have a new face to draw and then earn a little something.
That night Pete sat on his stool, staring blankly into space with a known feeling of nostalgia, a small and faint voice brought him back to the present. It was a short girl with crazy afro hair and a pink sequin dress, she seemed around six years old. “Hello,” said the girl, “Hello Mister, I was wondering if you could make a drawing of me, please.” Pete nodded and the girl smiled broadly while she climbed up the stool. He was starting to get comfortable too when he noticed she was alone. Pete looked around, looking for the little girl’s parents, or any adult that seemed to be looking for a missing kid. No sign. He asked her if she came with anyone, “Yes, Mister. My momma is buying some pizza for dinner and I came here so you could draw me.” Pete wasn’t at all convinced, but decided to keep an eye on the girl, at least until her mother came for her.
Pete started to draw. He studied her features first; wide eyes, dark skin, full lips and crooked teeth. She had the most amazing hair he had ever seen, big and untamed, truly a challenge to sketch. He decided to exaggerate the lips and the hair, thinking they were her most characteristic features, and made them the portrait’s focus point. He continued sketching, marking lines and erasing mistakes. Pete would occasionally look behind his drawing paper and admire the girl’s steadiness, “Am I okay like this?” She had a static, enormous smile on her face, “But please hurry up, Mister, my cheeks hurt.”
Pete started to add color; he loved the shade of her skin, and the contrast it made with her pink dress. Her lips seemed even fuller when he adopted a purple-ish pink to them. Moving on to the final touches, he added a blue background, some highlights and his signature; a plain P. He stared proudly at his masterpiece, anticipating the little girl’s reaction. Just as he was about to hand it to her, in came rushing a tall dark woman with familiar afro hair and tightly hugged the girl. “Laney, you scared me!” said the woman, “I told you to wait behind me on the line for the pizza.”
“But it was boring! I wanted him to make a drawing of me!”
The woman looked at Pete with slight embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Mister,” she said, “but thank you very much for taking care of Laney.” The woman turned to her daughter, “What do we say?”
“Thank you, Mister.” said Laney in a swaying manner and waved goodbye as her mother pulled her hand. She didn’t even notice she forgot her drawing; the love in her wide eyes as she looked up at her mother was enough to vanish her worries away. Pete didn’t care either; Laney also vanished his worries away. (687 words)
