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I’ve found a spot in a quiet corner of the coffee shop. It’s a good spot to take in the whole scene, and I can watch the faces. I sip my tea and watch as the person behind the counter continues to competently serve the many and varied customers who stream through the doors.
They’d introduced themselves as Darcy when I’d ordered my tea and Bakewell tart, and their face had been so open and genuine that I knew I’d found my target for the day.
You see, when I go to coffee shops, or sit in parks my mission, each time, is to find a face that tells a story and I draw them. I used to busk, do people’s portraits in the park, but I soon found that drawing a face when it was posed in front of me became static. The person was always tempted to smile awkwardly or hold themselves in such stiff postures that I never found them again and the portraits would come out cold. Accurate, maybe, but never anything that I was proud of.
So now, I draw people who aren’t aware they’re being drawn. Sounds a little weird, I know, but I always give them the picture, and they can do what they like with it. It isn’t as though I keep them or have some sort of bizarre collection at home.
Anyway, back to my current subject. Darcy is running their hands through their cropped blond hair, making it stick up in all directions in a way that is just so charming. Their apron is marred by what looks like milk, potentially after an argument with the frother. They’re grinning, though, laughing with a coworker about something I can’t hear. The coworker is a curly haired guy who was a tempting second choice for a portrait until Darcy’s cheeky smile and quick tongue had stolen the show.
They clearly know each other very well, their familiarity evident in the easy way that they dance around each other, passing each other things, finishing each other’s sentences and generally navigating the rather cramped space behind the counter without getting in each other’s way. It’s an art, that level of interaction with another human.
Life as a freelance artist can be sort of lonely sometimes, the hours can be long and there aren’t always the opportunities to get out and do the art that I want. I’ve taken on some commissions with companies I may not be all the way in love with, but, as I’ve told my parents before; I’ll have ethics when I can afford them. This hobby, it’s one thing that I have that allows me to draw what I want, without money or branding or necessity tainting it.
I take my time with this piece, really observing the way that Darcy holds themselves, the clear and sure way that their fingers run over the til, the small lines in the corner of their eyes when they say something cheeky that gets Curly to flick them with a teatowel, eliciting a delightful squeal in protest.
Their face, already animated and so expressive, set up in a glow that I envied at one point when I was nearly finished with the piece as a stunning human with dark braids and mahogany skin walked into the coffee shop. Darcy excused themself from behind the counter, jumping around and throwing their arms around the newcomer’s waist, lifting her up and twirling her around before placing a heated kiss to her lips.
Darcy’s eyes were soft and alive and their connection really was jealousy inducing. The kiss lasted long enough that Curly gave them a whistle and the pair reluctantly pulled apart. Flipping Curly off before walking back over to the counter. Darcy holding onto her girl's hand and then clearly offering to get her a drink. I figured my window was closing, that Darcy’s shift must be nearly over, or why would her person have stopped by. So I checked my drawing one last time.
I emphasised the eye shine that had lit their face, ensuring the smile was warm and wide and the confident, self-assured gumption of them was in full effect.
I was just adding my signature when someone appeared at my shoulder and I flinched at the presence before sensing that there was no ill intent. The man, tall and lean with a beanie pulled down over his head, wasn’t looking at me but at the picture, and I found myself appreciating that.
“I’ve been watching you watch them,” he says, by way of introduction.
“What do you think?” I decide to ask. I realise that I can’t very well get offended at someone watching me, when that is exactly what I was doing too.
“I think you’ve found a way to make Darcy immortal,” he answers. “You’ve captured them wonderfully.”
“You know Darcy?” I ask, feeling proprietary, which is ridiculous since all I know about them is their name and pronouns.
“Charlie’s a mate, he and Darcy have worked together a while.”
So, Curly has a name. Charlie suits him.
“Well, I was going to go and give this to them. Do you think they’ll like it?”
“I really do, prepare to be hugged, or tell them you’re not into that. Darcy is a hugger.”
“I appreciate the heads up, -” I pause, hoping that the question mark in my tone will give him the hint to introduce himself.
“Oh, right. I’m Tao. You are?”
“Elle, it’s nice to meet you. I’m going to go over now.”
I feel Tao’s eyes watching me as I walk across the coffee shop, a little on edge for having an audience, but it has been nice to get an opinion first for once. The only one that’ll really matter is Darcy’s though, and I stride over with as much borrowed confidence as I can muster.
“Darcy?” I start, to get their attention. “I drew you.”
Darcy takes the piece of paper out of my hand after a few seconds of looking at me like I might have two heads, and turns it round so that they can see it.
Their hand flies to their mouth and their eyes go really wide and with half their face covered and absolutely no other reaction I’m left in a bit of limbo as to exactly what their reaction actually is.
Then the statue-like pose breaks and they’re launching from around the counter.
“Do you mind if I hug you?”
I laugh, Tao did warn me. “No, of course not.”
They wrap me in a hug that makes me feel seen. Can a hug do that? I suppose it can because this one did.
“Tara, babe, come and look what this incredible human just gave me. Did you do this? Who are you?”
The picture is passed around and I realise that Darcy hasn’t let me go and suddenly Tao is there, and Charlie’s looking over Tara’s shoulder and I don’t know why but I don’t feel alone anymore.