Surrounded by what had grown to be nine portraits of Nadia, Sonya worked on the tenth at a feverish pace. This was to be the final painting, though she wouldn't know until it was complete. Nadia looked away and over her shoulder, an expression of indignation. Unlike the other hyper-realistic portraits, this one was a dark impressionist piece. It was begun after she arrived home from the first session with Dr. Barrow, and Sonya worked through the day to its completion. It took the whole week to dry completely, and it remained on its easel in the great room until she could think of a place to hang it.
She took the other portraits to the basement, storing them beside the painting of Alessandro.
The huge black canvas had a minor addition; the hint of a silhouetted pair of figures atop one of the cliff-like abstractions in black. Sonya spent many hours in front of the piece, feeling on the precipice of something that she would be better off turning away from.
Damien had called once part-way through the week to check in, aware of her appointment and undoubtedly curious to see how it had gone. Sonya gave no details, though she confirmed that she had scheduled another. This seemed to please him, and she felt a wave of comfort in knowing this--followed by shame for feeling such intense relief. The fact that she needed someone's approval clashed with the inner-strength that she knew she possessed.
She needed no one.
But she couldn't lose Damien.
The evening of her appointment filled her chest with unfamiliar anxiety followed again by a chaser of shame. It was a pattern she was numb to, though it didn't make the sensation any easier to swallow. Where was the infamous Queen of Ice with her effortless ambivalence? Left behind in the ocean, maybe.
She spent the silent car ride looking out the window, playing absentmindedly with a button on the cuff of her flowy white blouse. Upon her arrival at the office, the driver opened the door for her and she was a blur of neat denim and white entering the building. None would recognize her, but she moved as if she worried she could be. Once inside, she shifted her black clutch from one hand to the other, fixed the strap of one of her gold flats, lightly tousled her hair and approached the front desk to give her name.
If there was one thing she liked about this situation it was the fact that she never had to wait long to be let in.
When Sonya entered with the same guarded expression she first eyed the metronome, wondering if they would pick up directly where they left off.
"Dr. Barrow." She said simply with a nod, skipping the formality of a handshake since they were acquainted now. Settling into the same seat she had taken the last time, she folded her hands around the black clutch in her lap. Her posture was tense, though less so than the first session.
