Muse
Riley knew that Maya was excited about this exhibition, but she had no idea how big it was really going to be. The museum on campus has given her an entire wall for Maya to cover in paintings, each more beautiful than the last. There are wonderfully intricate paintings of doors, sunsets, skyscrapers, and starry skies. In the center of all of Maya’s artwork sits a single portrait. It’s of a woman with deep, brown hair and a smile on her face. From the woman’s hair light expands in every direction, like sunlight beaming through the clouds. It looks like the woman is sporting halo, like an angel. It almost makes Riley think that Maya thinks of this woman as the sun. It takes Riley much too long to realize that it’s supposed to be her.
“Maya,” she says, softly, emotionally. She has no idea how she should feel, but she’s filled with a million emotions, some with names and some without. This might be the most wonderful painting that Maya’s ever done, and it’s of her. Maya painted her. She painted her with sunlight erupting from her hair like a star, like she's the center of the universe. Maya painted her with all the passion she could muster, and then she put her right in the center of the exhibition. Riley can't process this information.
“I’m just your girlfriend,” Riley murmurs, almost awe-struck. Maya’s the beautiful one. Maya’s the artist, and Riley’s just the artist’s girlfriend.
“No,” Maya says, “Riles, you’re my muse.” She remembers a lesson that her father taught once, in history class. About how a person’s muse was their inspiration, their light, their reason for being. Riley can’t catch her breath as she makes the connection. Riley rushes forward, and bridges the gap between them. Then, she wraps her smaller girlfriend up in a hug.
“Um,” Maya asks, “Riles? You alright there?”
“Yeah,” Riley says, trying to fight back the damn happy tears that are threatening to fall,, “I-I’m really good.” Maya breaks their hug, and takes Riley by the hand.
“Good,” she says with a big, proud grin on her face, “I can’t wait to show you the rest.” Riley’s heart does a somersault inside of her, and she grasps her girlfriend’s hand a little tighter. Riley might not be an artist, but she knows Maya's her muse as well.