Joslyn's Folly

Joslyn agreed to be the object of my painting that night as she did several nights before. She was the perfect model: a nineteen-year-old art student like myself, with beautiful features, and she could remain completely still. My art teacher was used to seeing her in my work. Her apartment was not quite as suitable as she was. It was slightly cramped and a little dull, but it didn’t bother me. We were very close and she thought nothing of posing; it was just another project. It was impossible for her to know what I had learned that afternoon. She still felt secure in my presence.
“An interesting selection of colors tonight,” she said, “why so many shades of blue?”
I answered her the way I always did when she asked about my use of colors. “Paintings are not depictions of images but expressions of emotion through the use of colors.”
My low, dry tone must have given her the notion that I was upset. It had taken her long enough to realize it.
“What’s wrong Robert?” she asked, a worried expression on her face.
I put a finger to my lips, signaling her to be quiet, and refusing to answer.
As the night progressed, Joslyn lost her feeling of security. Her lips trembled and beads of sweat glided down her arms. Though she remained silent, I could tell she was beginning to realize her position. However, I was still confident that she had not realized my secret.
I thought back, as my painting was nearly complete, to what I had witnessed earlier that day. I had seen Joslyn outside a coffee shop. She was alone, but it seemed as though she was waiting for someone. I began to approach her from across the street, but I halted when I realized who she was waiting for. Only a few steps away from her, I saw Brian approaching.
Brian was also very close to me, and I was extremely surprised to see him there, as I had never introduced the two of them. He was a lifelong friend, someone I trusted completely. We shared a very special bond.
While watching from across the street, my surprise turned to horror as the two embraced and then locked lips for several seconds. I struggled to turn my head but ended up watching, appalled, as my best friend and the one I love shared a passionate kiss. The couple proceeded into the café, and I didn’t have the heart to follow.
“You would never hurt me would you, Robert?” asked Joslyn back at her apartment.
Again I refused to speak, but the glare of hate that exploded from my eyes said all she needed to hear.
As soon as I finished the painting, Joslyn broke down in tears. “I never meant to hurt you! I didn’t want to cheat on you; he practically forced me!”
This just made me angrier. So she thought she knew my secret. “You are so vain! Joslyn, I never cared about you in that way. You were not the one who hurt me today.”
Joslyn was astonished. “I know he was your best friend, but I was your lover! I thought I meant more to you.”
No, Joslyn,” I responded, “you have it backwards; you were the friend, he was the lover.”
Joslyn was more shocked than I had been all day. She stammered out a few words but was unable to make a complete sentence.
“He swore he wasn’t interested in women anymore!” I shouted, “I thought we were meant to be together.” I paused for a moment to catch my breath. “I thought we were soul mates.”
We were both crying now but, after only a few moments, I was filled with rage again. I lifted my hand to strike her, and she cringed in fear. With my clenched fist raised above her head, I dropped her spare key on the bed. Then I turned away from her and, without another word, left the building with my painting.