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@henrymacmillan-blog
But how if the French girls go “I want you to draw me like one of your English girls”? But I’ve already released my female English prisoners whom I use in my work before my move to France. Because all artists obviously keep an arsenal of multiracial, multicultural women to draw. I can’t win…
Oh yeah obviously. You keep them in the arts cupboard along with the oils and canvases. Well its an artists conundrum, maybe you should stick to the bowls of fruit and sunflowers.
There was something about warm weather that was irresistible to Isaac. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. The warmth from the radiating sun always had a way of beckoning him outside, into the pleasant breeze that smelled distinctively of wildflowers and freshly-mowed grass; a smell he could only associate with Spring. On that particular delightful day, Isaac could be found under the shade of a large tree, basking in the feelings of new life all around him. His hands held the cracked spine of a worn paperback, his copy of Murder on the Orient Express. Thin, nimble fingers flipped the crisp dogeared pages as he read, his thick-rimmed glasses hiding his eyes as they flicked back and forth across the black ink. A thoughtful expression settled on his face, and he began to unknowingly murmur aloud his thoughts as he read, addressing characters in the book as if they were actually there. ”I don’t suppose I’d like Mr. Ratchett’s face either, Poirot, but you mustn’t be so rude.” He chided, though his commentary was lost on the fictional characters as they continued on the way they always did.
He'd only gone to take a brisk walk in the sunshine, clear his head after Rosemary had clouded his mind. Did he regret walking out on her, or was it just his baby he cared about, he couldn't seem to figure out which? He was hoping that the scenery might take his mind elsewhere. He was right. He was minding his own business, getting a little lost in his burden-filled head when he heard the young boy muttering to himself underneath a large oak tree. He stood and stared at him, his lips sucked in as he suppressed the urge to laugh at the boy outright. He was happy for the escape, however childish his distraction might have been. He should have turned as after the first moment, instead of savoring the break, because the next thing he knew the boy was looking up at him. Staring at him with same quizzical glare Henry had been giving him.
Angeline tried to calm herself down, but her heart was still furiously beating in her chest. He made her awfully aware of her mistakes and what could be the downfall of their relationship. As much as she didn’t want to belong to anybody, she didn’t want to lose Kate, and the prospect of doing that because she couldn’t concentrate on her girlfriend was one she didn’t want to delve into too long. “I guess some people aren’t made for love without an ending point or serious relationships. Maybe you just figured that out a little too late and will go on like that for the rest of their life.” She didn’t mean it to sound accusing or judging, it was a simple stated fact. It said that she was scared of finding out the same applied to her. Slowly her hands loosened the tight grip around her shirt and she ran them through her hair instead, still trying to avoid his intense glare lying on her, peeling her skin off her body to look at the ugly truth lying beneath. She didn’t want him to see that. She didn’t want anybody to see that. Angel wanted to keep it to herself. “I know. I’m trying.” Or rather: Angel wasn’t trying at all. Like he had said before, she took Kate for granted, and she only now realized that. It hurt her. It hurt her that she unwillingly hurt Kate without her knowing. It hurt her that she needed a stranger to show her all her faults. Swallowing hard, she slowly looked up at him, lips pressed into a thin line before she forced them into a smile. “I hope it will. I can’t imagine losing her. And even if people aren’t made to be with one person, they are meant to end up with that one person.” Sure, Kate was the last person to think you should be with just one person. She proofed so every night she went out and slept with others. But even if she did that now, and knew it could destroy whatever beautiful thing she shared with her girlfriend, that they would end up together one day. Thinking differently hurt too much. “What about you? Why’s your ‘girlfriend’ not worth keeping her close?”
He should change the subject; girls playing with their hair either meant they were flirting or they were about get extremely upset, and Henry highly doubted that Angeline had any romantic intentions. "Then maybe that person is only good for you at the end. If I was getting to the elderly age I might consider settling down too, but while your young? Having a serious relationship just causes heartache." And destruction. It was funny how once he'd returned to Coeur d'Coeurs people couldn't stop commenting on how well he was doing, how much he'd grown up. Yet he felt empty while his little girl was else where. The same went for Rosemary of course only in reverse. Her talent was being wasted on a platform stage with bright lights and a pole at the end of a short runway, a complete shame considering how much he loved to see her designs. "Hannah's fantastic, she knows that. She's fun, energetic, determined. Very talented. But we don't love each other, there's a maturity difference and I don't think of her that often. The girl I used to love gets more into my head than my current 'affair' as you like to call them." He scratched the back of his neck, his heart beating that little bit harder. He didn't like to admit how much Rosie got under his skin. It makes him wonder if she'd still be on his mind even if she wasn't the mother of his child. "This is the place." He points to his left at a small bar with yellow neon lights, easy to miss if you aren't accustomed to the area and happen to like avoiding the club that resided across the road. He signaled Angeline to enter first, a gentlemen's tip that had been ingrained him from all of the movies he'd watched as a child, and then followed her.
I’ve always been wary about accepting requests to draw real life models. Titanic always gives the wrong impression with “I want you to draw me like one of your French girls”. Not every artist has a collection of French girls to draw.
Move to France? That would solve your problem.
Maybe you’re just not all that memorable, but no Henry I do recall you. You dated Rosemary and did some damage with that too, I can’t say me and Rose have ever been close but Ginny’s my family, and what hurts hers, hurts mine.
Consider this a friendly warning, if you so much as hurt those redheaded angels, I have both the money and resources to drive you out of town and make sure you never step foot in Coeur d’Coeurs again.
What you gonna do ask Daddy to get rid of me? If your sister Daisy was making this threat I might actually take it seriously, but everyone knows that you my little flower aren't exactly the favorite Pratt sister around these parts, so good luck with your little vendetta I'm sure it will occupy your time nicely.
And for your information, I have no qualms with not laying my eyes on Virginia again. As for Rosemary, I have unfinished business with her, but I wouldn't be too worried - white trash tends to be untouchable.
"No vodka for me, thanks," Robin said irritably, rolling her eyes. She wasn’t a drunkard, contrary to popular belief. She enjoyed a drink, and sometimes she couldn’t stop herself because her need was rarely satiated, but that didn’t make her an alcoholic. She just needed more sometimes. It was a growing problem, but one that she could handle. What did Henry know? He didn’t know her - thank God for that, she didn’t need anyone to start telling her what to do. And she hated it when he called her Robin bird. She wasn’t a bird. She was a fucking human being. And worse, the implications of his statement infuriated her. "And I don’t have any physical ‘altercations’ with random strangers, Henry.” She didn’t know what Rosey had seen in him. He was good looking, she wasn’t blind; but his character was absolutely unredeemable. “But I would love a coffee, if you’re offering,” she added, forcing a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips for his sake.
No punches thrown; Henry considered himself lucky as he walked towards the counter. "I'll get you an espresso, you look like you might need one Robin bird. You look a little worse for wear." He turned his head so she wouldn't be able to see the smug smile that he wore on his lips. It wasn't fully true, she looked pretty even, but she wasn't quite as radiant as when he first saw her in the week he came back, seeking out Rosie and finding her instead. In fact, he'd noticed she'd been looking worn down for quite a while now, but it wasn't his place to ask about her problem. Nor did he particularly care. Though it did cross his mind as to if anyone else was picking up on it, if she was his friend then he would have been worried. "So birdy how's my Rosie doing? You been keeping her out of trouble?" He didn't smile when he turned to face her, instead he looked straight at her with an unreadable expression. He didn't want her to see that it actually mattered to him what his ex had been up to.
Angeline felt as if he could feel his judging stare on her. She didn’t want him to judge. Hell, he barely knew anything about her. He didn’t know that she loved Kate to the moon and back but was afraid of being unhappy and lonely if she decided to be with nobody but Kate. He didn’t know that she’d do anything for her very own angel, if it wasn’t for her need to let other hands touch her bodies some nights, just for the joy of it. Clearing her throat, she tried to pretend as if she wasn’t bothered by his eyes on her. Usually, she wasn’t. No matter how weirdly somebody looked at her, she never cared - but right now she did. “Doesn’t sound like a girlfriend then”, she replied, brushing her skirt straight as she walked, eyes focused on the soft fabric dancing around her thighs. “Rather sounds like an affair. You still in love with someone else, or why are you so anti-relationships?” The words were out before Angeline could stop them. That happened quite often to her, that she said things without thinking, intruding other’s privacy. She didn’t mean to be rude, but didn’t see the point in keeping back either. Only right now she didn’t want to turn Henry into a complaining, grumpy man again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to say that.” Quirking her eyebrow as his husky voice, she looked around in confusion as if a wild ex-girlfriend would jump at them any second. She didn’t get it, but wasn’t in the mood to ask further about it. He seemed like the kind of guy to arouse interest but not answer the real questions. Maybe he’d surprise her, maybe he wouldn’t. His next words made her tense though. Angeline froze in her steps, fingers curling tightly around her skirt. Henry had successfully managed to hit her wound spot, and she wondered if he had done it on purpose. Inhaling a deep breath, she glared at Henry. “She knows I’m just having fun. She knows she could accompany if she wanted to. Not spending every single second of my day with her doesn’t mean that she’s less important to me.” With those words said, she started stalking off again, her steps quicker now, her heart pulsating quicker in her chest. “I don’t take anything for granted”, she mumbled through gritted teeth, but realized that maybe he was right. Maybe she did. Maybe she took Kate for granted, and maybe that would mean she’d lose her one day. And she really didn’t want that.
He couldn't quite hear her last sentence through her jumbled words, but he knew it was something personal. Internal. So he chose not to ponder on it, he wasn't her therapist. "If you must know, I used to be very pro-relationships, then I realized that love has an ending point. At least love for someone who isn't truly yours. Maybe one day I'll decide not to have 'an affair' but I don't find it likely. I don't think I mind much if I grow old alone." It was true, Henry had found that independence was something that suited him. He didn't need to have the marriage and the four kids like he'd always thought he would have; he just needed to be a good father and to have a couple of good friends. He glanced back at her to see that her hands were gripping the ends of her skirt, her eyes slightly glistening. Was he being too personal? He tried to avoid that at all costs, but she was interesting. Most people were transparent; either they were broken or they were bored or they were consumed by love. At first he thought she was none of those things, a girl who was simply happy in her world, but maybe he should be adding a new type to the list. Those who were afraid. "That's nice to hear, you should keep a hold of her. Not many people would be so understanding." He bit down on his lips to keep him from prying into her life even more. It didn't matter much to him and he was sick of seeing all these people try to fix others lives when their own needs attention. He'd seen a countless number of people flock to his seminars in the hopes it would change them and each time he would tell them 'this won't affect your life until some day it seems an apt way to live'. People didn't need fixing, they needed to learn and they could only do that by themselves. Yet the words couldn't quite contain themselves. "Do you think that your relationship with whoever is gonna last the end of time? Let's be real, people aren't made to be with one person, it's a fantasy."
A lot had changed? Was he serious? Everything had changed. The world itself was a different place — social issues were being brought to life and the world was listening for the very first time. Resisting the urge to let out a snort or roll her eyes, Rose looked down at the mug the waitress had set before her instead, cradling the familiar drink between her palms. The girl was barely listening to his words, tracing the whipped cream with the tip of her index finger and licking it, instead. Rose wondered if he was telling the truth, wondered if the Henry she’d known had settled down with a job, wondered if he was any good at persuasion, and wondered if the change had come about because of a girl— a girl? The thoughts that seeped into Rose’s head were ridiculous sometimes, and yet, she had to process them anyways. Taking a sip of her latte and peering up at him, the girl watched as he stuttered an apology, his eyes wide and chin set, almost as if expecting to be forgiven on the spot. This was it, the moment of truth for the messee to mess with the messer. So Rosemary traced her lips with the tip of her tongue, lapping up any traces of coffee, before softening her features. Her eyes were practically a warm chocolate brown, forgiving for him in ways the words that spilled from her lips never could. “It’s alright, Henry. We were young, and you acted on impulse,” she reasoned. “I understand.” That didn’t stop it from hurting any more than it did, even now after all these years, Rose could feel the hurt her young heart had endured. It had all come down to him, and in the most dire of moments, Henry MacMillan had broken her — and there was nothing to do except break him.
Just like that? She accepted it like it was nothing. Like he'd broken up with her for a career as a dancer instead of abandoning her with an unborn baby resulting in her losing out on ever achieving her dreams. She just... said it was okay. "Tha... Thank you... for understanding." His confusion was evident as his brows furrowed and his jaw relaxed. "I erm... I have something for you." He took out a small bag containing the sweets he'd bought the other day helpfully chosen by the store owner. He should have included caramels, he knew she loved them, but he supposed at the time he was thinking more about the end result than the past. He handed the bag over to her, inside was a little note. An extract actually, taken from one his speeches he'd done over in Illinois. They asked him to speak about relationships and how they affect us. So he wrote about regret and how his was walking out on her. He'd left out the part about the baby, and that his regret was little to do with Rosie and more to do with his failure as a father, it wasn't the romantic bullshit people wanted to hear. But for all Rosemary knew, his anguish was about her. Make her think she's special, that there's hope and then she will let you in. Henry hoped that his actions didn't incite love, he didn't want to break her heart not again, he just needed to get close to her. It wasn't like he hadn't tried other methods of finding his daughter, but it was useless without the paperwork. He needed it. There was no other way.
She needed coffee to calm the raging headache. Her temples were throbbing violently and the world was spinning and soon there wasn’t going to be anything for her to grab onto, and the only cure Robin had found as of yet was coffee. Just enough to distract her from her senses for a little bit. She stumbled more than walked into the cafe and looked around lazily, eyes too slow, lagging behind, dragging its feet. Oh. Look, a familiar face. Oh, shit, it was Henry. She hated him. The little bastard, leaving her Rosey to fend for herself, breaking her, damaging her. She should be too exhausted to confront him but last night’s drunken events lingered and spurred her forward until she had plopped herself into the seat across him angrily, glaring at him.
A thud interrupted his train of thought. Sitting opposite him was a beautiful girl, something he might have been pleased to see, if it didn't also happen to have eyes with incentive to kill. "Hi gorgeous! What are you doing in the coffee shop this early, shouldn't you be starting on the vodka by now?" He raised his arm and mocked a glance at his watch, a forced puzzled expression written on his face. "Now as you know my little Robin bird, we don't spend too much time together, you know being that I don't spend my days downing drink after drink and getting in physical altercations with random strangers who happen to be a little handsy, but I think maybe we should get a new hobby together. We should make this coffee trip a weekly thing - I'll sneak in a little alcohol and we can make our drinks Irish. What do you think?" The ends of his mouth twitched, he was half expecting to get a punch in the face. Robin wasn't the kind of girl you messed around with and yet he couldn't seem to help himself. She was one of those broken toys you will never be able to fix, and he didn't like that she spent so much time around Rosemary. She was confrontational and at times erratic; she was sure to interfere with his hopes of getting his daughter back.
"I do think there’s a difference. The complaining is a big difference, actually. Turns you from a grumpy gentleman into an actually bearable gentleman." Angel doubted she’d ever get why people were so fond of complaining. She figured it were their messed up lives, their problems, just something that turned them into such bitter beings. As long as she wasn’t one of them, she fortunately didn’t need to understand where the complaints were coming from. She reached her nose up into the sky, feeling the sun on her skin, the wind ruffling her hair. It made her feel alive and less like a zombie again. "Anything that’s important to me? I don’t miss the things that are important to me to the night. I don’t see the problem in partying every now and then - it’s just fun, enjoying the night, whatever. But I get that not everybody wants to live like that." Not complaining gentleman at least. To Angeline it was everything - she’d probably wither like a plant if it weren’t for her nights filled with dancing, alcohol and hands on her body. Life would be boring, dull, not her thing anymore. His words surprised her, and she immediately felt guilty. Did she look like somebody who was single? That probably wasn’t a good thing, even if somewhere inside of her there was a slight jolt of pride. Clearing her throat, she started rolling one of her dark curls around her finger, staring ahead as if looking at him could tell him all her secrets. "I’m not, actually. Not really. I have a… I have a girlfriend", she admitted. It always felt weird to say it out loud, and she was never sure if she wanted to say it out loud. But she knew she owed Kate to say it when strangers asked, and she already didn’t do it often enough. "She keeps me on my toes, I guess. She’s great." Angel looked up at him, at his disheveled hair and the smile on his lips. He surely was somebody to make girls fall over within a second. "What about you though? Anybody keeping you on your toes?"
By the look her face, he guessed that Angeline either wasn't too keen on being someone's girlfriend or she was overjoyed. Considering how long she stayed out at night, he assumed the former. Couples that were really in love spent as many of their waking hours together as possible, like he had with Rosemary all those years ago. For all that he could tell, there was no difference between his relationship with Hannah and Angeline's relationship with whoever. "Same position as you - a girlfriend. Well sort of I guess, it's not exactly anything serious she's just nice to spend time with. I'm not all that big a fan of relationships, at least not anymore." He twisted his head towards her, hushing his voice slightly as they approached the club so that no one but Angeline could here. "I've had bad experiences." He searched around, looking out for any of the strip club staff, hoping they wouldn't see him rousing around his exes place of work with another woman, even if she offered nothing more than companionship. He had a plan and being seen with Angeline wasn't going to contribute to it. "So this girlfriend of yours, is she okay with you spending all hours at the clubs? I've always wondered why people get so uptight in casual relationships. If its not forever then who really cares what the other person does with their time, saying that I'm not the biggest fan of cheating, it's hurtful. You attach a label to someone then you've got to stay true to them until the relationship runs its course. I hate people who take that for granted, don't you?"
Oh I definitely would but well…the ‘rut’ I’ve found myself in is much too deep and honestly, I’m too intimidated to try.
…That and well, there’s satellite radio down here. Irresistible, really.
Oh satellite radio, what could be better than that?
Aren't you that pizza delivery guy?
Sometimes I’m really tempted to click on those ‘Stay-at-home mom makes 100k from the convenience of her home’ ads. I mean, I know they’re complete shit and all but still… The possibility of never havin’ to get out of bed for work is almost worth the viruses and shitload of spam that ad would get me.
Anything before 1 pm is too early for me.
Maybe you should attend a motivational class. You seem stuck in a rut, desperate for an escape clause. I can refer you to one if you wish?
"Do you always switch from a guy complaining about a lot of things to a gentleman within a mere second?" Angeline was amused by his sudden switch in tone, how he let her walk first and complimented her name. As a little kid she found it rather ridiculous, now she quite liked it herself. "Guess my parents thought they could influence me as a person by giving me such a name", she added with a shrug of her shoulders. She walked slowly down the street, waiting for him to catch up with her and lead the way to whatever bar he intended to go. For a second the thought struck her of texting Kate, to just go home and spend the day with her instead of going with a complete stranger. But foreign people interested her, intrigued her even, and she couldn’t help but find the idea of drinking something with Henry a lot better than going home. "I do it quite often, to be honest. I’m a lover of the night and dancing. Not necessarily of forgetting, but it often goes hand in hand. Why does it sound like you have such a big problem with that?", she asked with raised eyebrows while she tightened her scarf around her neck, a single cold wind breeze making her shiver as it ate its way through her clothes and straight through her skin. Angel knew that a lot of people would most likely judge her for the way she lived her life, but that didn’t matter to her. As long as she was happy, what did the opinion of others matter? As long as it worked out for her, why change anything she was doing?
"Is there a difference? I'm always a gentlemen, it just so happens that I'm not always complaining." Henry titled his head towards her, a smirk spread across his face. Since leaving town his bad-boy antics had faded, replaced with a somewhat grumpy old man. He knew complained too much, complied to little and had a knack for getting on someones bad side, but he supposed there had to be some way of filling the void that growing up had given him. "As for your lifestyle, well I couldn't live it myself. You can miss everything that's important to you to the night - trust me!" Memories of strobe lights, heavy headaches and pulsating beats passed through his mind. Those were back when he first discovered he was going to be a father and didn't quite know what to do with himself. It felt silly now, all the partying he'd done to forget and yet here he was trying desperately to get his reality back. "So I'm guessing your single, right? I must admit I'm pretty surprised, you seem like the kind of girl who could easily find someone to keep you on your toes." He examined the doe-eyed girl as she walked, her warm brown curls bouncing against her shoulder. She wasn't the type of girl who would usually be trudging out life alone, but then again neither was Rosemary. He supposed that the more beautiful the girl, the better they hid their damage under their gleaming smiles and perfect features.
There was something about the way his eyes followed her every movement that made her feel bare, as though he’d managed to strip away the clothes on her body and surround her with an air of self consciousness. The Henry she knew used to do the same thing, except the way his eyes had undressed her then was intimate and loving, able to ignite a warmth inside her chest. Pushing away the daunting silhouette of old memories and old feelings, Rose watched as he turned away and gestured for two more cups of the drink before him. There was only one beverage Rosemary would always choose to drink in a cafe — a salted caramel latte. Salted caramels were her favourite, and when the coffee gods had invented a salted caramel latte Rose had seen it as a gift from the heavens and downed it unquestioningly. It took her by surprise that it was his choice of drink, but endearing nonetheless. She’d been the one to introduce him to it, after all. “How’ve I been?” she repeated stupidly, trying to detect a scornful tone in his words. Henry knew she was a stripper, and she knew just how he felt about it, too. Regardless, Rose laced her fingers together as she struggled to maintain a calm exterior. There was no point in getting mad, the past was the past, and she could only influence the future. So the girl parted her lips, lifting her shoulders in the slightest of shrugs. “I’m not too bad, just busy with the club, that’s all.” Tucking away the strand of hair that’d fallen out from behind her ear, the girl trained her eyes on him, allowing herself to take in his features properly for the first time that day. The years had been kind on him, his features still boyishly handsome, enough to cause the hand in her lap to ball into a fist. “How about you?”
He'd been right about her choice of drink, he could tell by the way her eyes glistened as he brought it over and how her brows furrowed with inquisition when she saw he had chosen the same. "A lot has changed. A lot. I've had a lot of time to think about things, find myself. I'm a motivational speaker now - I'm pretty good it or so I've heard. I... I think about you often and how I left things. I don't.... I don't know where to start really." He tapped his fingers along the plastic coating on the side of the table, urging the words to appear in his head like he'd practiced. It felt like he was doing one of his speeches and suddenly he'd come across a slide that wasn't meant to be there. This conversation had seeped into his mind almost every hour that he'd been back at Coeur d'Coeurs. He'd imagined several different scenarios and ways to deal with them; if Rosemary stormed out he'd follow, if she cried he'd place a hand over her shoulder and wait for the noise to muffle, if she sat in silence while he did the talking then he'd shed a tear to seem sincere. He wasn't counting on him being the issue. Hadn't thought about the guilt that would come rushing back to him, or the flashbacks to a girl he once loved to keep wandering round his head blurring his rational mind. "I erm... I guess... I guess I'm just sorry. I shouldn't have walked out like that I know, but I was barely a man and I just wasn't ready, but I'm here now and I want to make it right."
I could totally be a motivational speaker. Like, dude, you wanna change your life? You wanna be an astronaut? You can be an astronaut. You can be whatever you wanna be.
Well I'm sold. Let's go call NASA right now and tell them they've got a new trainee.
I'm Henry.
Well, kind of…. we didn’t really have to worry about money at least.
No, I mean I sold the honey and donated the money I got to help the homeless!
That would explain it! I was gonna say selling things to the homeless doesn't sound like the most intelligent business plan.
I'm Henry by the way.
I used to sell honey for the homeless, which doesn’t really make any money, but my aunts had enough of that so it didn’t matter. Then I moved, but kept my bees so now I have too much honey to keep all of it.
Oh so you have a wealthy family? Lucky you! But how can you sell something to the homeless, what do you get in exchange?
