I had been daydreaming in front of one of his largest paintings, but got woken up by the sound of scratching wood. I turned around and saw Mr. Monet, ... paintbrush in his mouth, putting a canvas on an easel. The expression on my face must have been an odd one, because he laughed when he saw me looking at him. "Would you like me to draw you?"I was stunned. Did Mr. Monet really just ask me to be a model for his next painting? That could not be true. I was entirely used to being on the other side. I could think of no better way of spending a Saturday night. I snuck in, went over to the free side of the bed and took off my clothes, laying them all on the floor underneath the window. Then I slid underneath the covers with dad, waiting for his arm to reach over and hold me. It took a while. A long while. Too long a while. I grew impatient, took the initiative myself and snuggled up to his warm body. He still wasn't holding me, though. What was going on?"Mh... Bea..." I heard him mumbling in. More

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