Perfect Woman

By Nylah Harris

Scott knew that he had to create a wife any day now. His whole family kept pestering him with questions as to why he hadn’t picked up a paintbrush to make his wife. Hell, he knew he could’ve just picked up some crayons and markers and drew her on printing paper. The only problem was, Scott wasn’t sure how to design her. Three and half hours ago, he decided that tonight was the night he was finally going to go through it, but this was too much pressure. It’s not like he had the option of accepting a woman as is. Frustrated with his lack of progress, he angrily turned off Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and knocked over his bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. His neighbor directly under him tapped his broom on the ceiling, a signal to stop all the commotion. With a groan, Scott flipped off his neighbor, thankful for the apartment walls surrounding him.

Heaving a sigh, Scott vigorously rubbed his hands against his face and forced himself to focus. He had known his whole life this day was coming. Actually, every male on the planet had the moment where he would have to settle down and make his soulmate to his liking. It’s normal, he reminded himself; every male after twenty-five had to start thinking about this. This process is so tedious, he counterargued with himself. You first needed the perfect canvas and the right colors. Then you had to think long and hard about what you like and dislike. Should she be smaller than you? Do her breasts need to be full? Once you draw her with what you can live with for the rest of your life, the hardest part comes: personalities. The adjectives had to surround around the frame in which you created, but forgetting one word could alter her altogether. You had to be extremely thoughtful and careful. It did help, though, that no matter your art skills, as long as you bought a wooden canvas, your dream woman would shine through. Wooden canvases allow you to project exactly what you want as your thoughts connect to your pen. It’s too dangerous for women to use as they are too fragile to handle the process, so men handle it. The only catch is you can only have one wooden canvas and it has to be passed on generation to generation. That is so annoying, Scott commented internally. Sometimes he wished so much power wasn’t bestowed on his gender, but he took his responsibility in great, happy strides.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Scott picked up the brush and started to create his woman. In one quick, swift motion, the pen went straight to the canvas. Her hair was thick and curly with light brown highlights. Her eyes were green like moss, which contrasted with her rich mocha skin. With one dimple, long legs with hips that had a slight dip in them, breasts full but not that full, and a small butt, she was absolutely breathtaking. Gasping in shock, he backed away as she started to walk out of the canvas. Standing in front of him was the literal woman of his dreams. Breathing in deeply, she fluttered her eyes for a second. As if she knew she needed a moment’s peace for the purpose in which she was created for. Sharply, she opened her eyes and stared into his. For a second that’s all she did, stare. Then, with a crooked smile so wide and her one dimple prominent, she spoke.

“Hi…”