The Tragic Tale of Teddy Woven Chapter 19

For once I was left to my own devices. I was able to wander about his studio in idle amusement, taking

every opportunity to explore his treasured place. Teddy was upstairs changing for tonight, which

allowed me every opportunity to explore his home. Frédéric Chopin’s elegant ensemble echoed from

Teddy’s music room, steadily streaming its way over to his art room across the hall. I was bent over to

pull back a rich silky cloth that covered a set of canvases. They were works of architecture; ancient

stone buildings that appeared to be from different parts of England. Many of these houses would be the

envy of any person; illustrious country houses with a view of expansive farmlands or rugged stone

bridges that hovered over a winding stream. It was clear he travelled far and wide to obtain these

landscape images, a hopeful sign that he left the house from time to time. I placed the cloth over the

canvases again, and then looked over my shoulder to see that he had not appeared yet. Rebellion

stirred within me, so I swiftly headed over to his large table where he had once kept that secret

sketchbook. I pulled out the small compartment to find that it was missing, which made me regret my

wilful decision to invade Teddy’s privacy in the first place. I scoffed under my breath in misery, before

opening up another compartment that was just down below. I pulled out a heavy stack of paper,

noticing that his drawings were deliberately done for a fashion magazine. Women dressed in the latest

fashion captured my attention, for I was enamored by the vibrant colours that radiated off the model’s

smooth porcelain skin. I began to envy her as I flipped through the page. To my horror I found myself

questioning my own physical appearance, and whether Teddy liked it at all.

As an artist, Teddy would have undoubtedly encountered such glamorous looking women, so what

could he possibly see in me? I pulled his stool closer to the right and took a seat, knowing Teddy would

not come downstairs for another few minutes at least. The pages fell over the table quietly, while my

eyes scanned the next few pages with serious contemplation. Over time a series of models began to

wear less clothing, and soon enough they were dressed in only lingerie. I blinked at them slowly, seeing

women of every colour and curve exquisitely depicted by the careful strokes of Teddy’s inked pen. I had

a strange inclination that they were earlier sketches, for they lacked a certain quality that my self-

portrait contained. Teddy was right that it took years of experience to become the artist that he currently

was, for these very images were a testament to them.

I tilted my head to the left once I reached a set of thick creamy beige papers that looked old and

withered as they rested in the palm of my hand. My lips puckered inwardly, half-startled to see the

depictions that had now captured my attention. Multiple drawings of nude women were sketched upon

the page. Great detail was poured into the background with the use of a coloured pencil; a long russet-

hued tapestry gilded with rounded golden shaped leaves were printed on the grand curtains behind a

naked model. Most of the ladies were lounging on a curved mauve coloured divan. There were some

models that brashly stood before their artist without a shame in a world. As for myself, so innocent and

hardly knowledgeable of the ways of the world, it left me with some discomfort. Such images were

normal for an artist, but for a person like me, I felt a spread of a rosy damask hue overtake the sides of

my cheeks. A part of me was curious if Teddy ever saw me in a sexual light, if his own imagination

could picture me lounging on his divan or standing before him in all my nakedness. I nervously

scratched the back of my ear as I recalled the passionate feelings that overwhelmed me when he

kissed me upon the blanket over an hour ago.

Footsteps sounded throughout the house, so I quickly piled the sketches together and rested them in

the cabinet where they rightfully belonged. The stool was pushed backwards, and when I was just

placing it in its normal spot, Teddy entered into his studio.

“I am sorry I was gone so long.” He stopped in front of the doorway, and I knew instantly that he sensed

something was amiss. “Sela?” He questioned me. “What is the matter?”

I turned around while rubbing the palm of my hands together. Unfortunately, I could vividly recall the

last time he caught me snooping, and was deliberating whether I should tell him the truth or not. “Oh,

nothing,” I lied, before I stepped forward to greet him.

He stood motionlessly before me in a proud sort of way, raising his chin upwards once I stood in front

of him. Teddy had changed his clothes indeed; a smooth navy-blue suit blazer fit snugly against his

lean frame. A white dress shirt was buttoned up all the way, adorned with a plaid red and blue bow-tie

that fit the details of his outfit. I looked down at his dark mustard coloured pants, a brighter shade than I

was accustomed too.

Teddy reached for my hand with a hint of endearment. He pulled me along, wanting to step further into

his studio. “Come,” he ventured forth with a firmness to his voice that lent authority. “I left you in my

studio, and now you are behaving differently.” He stopped in his tracks and turned his body towards

me. “What did you see?”

“I saw…” I broke my gaze with him. “I suppose it is normal for artists.”

“What is, my dear?”

“You- you drew…”

He leaned forward with concern, while a darkness covered a portion of his face with distrust.

“Nude women.”

“Yes, sometime ago,” he sighed out with relief. “Live models for burgeoning artists to try.” He leaned

backwards to return to his normal position. “Does that bother you?”

“It just startled me, that’s all.”

“There is nothing wrong with it,” he quietly explained. “At least, not for me.” He stepped forward and

lightly grazed the side of my cheek with his left hand. “But it makes you uncomfortable. Well, you will be

comforted to know that I do not engage in that sort of thing anymore.”

I nodded my head weakly, while my mind began to grow hazy before him.

“Sela,” he urged. “I am sorry to say this, but this is what happens when you go snooping.” His thumb

dragged along the side of my face with some affection before it rested over the side of my neck. “Count

your blessings, it wasn’t something worse.” He winked at me playfully, a sign that he was only taunting

me for his own sinful pleasure. “Now, are you ready to go out? We should head into town before it gets

dark.”

“Yes, Teddy,” I answered him in a monotone voice.

“Is anything else bothering you?”

“Do you look at me that way?”

“In what way?” he asked with a puzzled expression that he could not hide from me.

“Like in those pictures.”

“Do you want the truth?” he asked in a lower tenor that grew husky by the end of it.

“Maybe.”

He simply arched up an eyebrow and let his facial expressions speak for itself. “I’ve gotten a kiss today.

I shall ask for nothing more. I promise you that.” He tugged on my hand lightly to lead me to the open

doorway. Upon entering the hallway, he let go of my hand and stuck it deeply into his trouser pocket. A

low exhale escaped the corner of his mouth, and then he looked to the right to gaze at the empty

staircase. “We should leave,” he said with more determination than before, and with that he turned to

the left to seek out the refuge of the front door and the world that lay beyond it.

“Sela,” he urged. “Il am sorry to say this, but this is what happens when you go snooping.” His thumb