When the Paint goes Dry

Chapter One

OCD alert: I can't even concentrate because the G for Goes in the title just won't become a capital letter. Damn it Wattpad co-operate with me would you?

       "You could always just send me one," I suppressed the need to roll my eyes, that gesture was becoming way to common and it needed to stop. I rolled them at the taxi driver when he said he had no change, I rolled them at the toaster when it burnt my toast, and now I was rolling them over the phone at my sister, even when I knew she couldn't see me.

"Or I can give you one when you come down here," I replied trying to reason her into visiting. Did I want her to visit?

I could just imagine the look of disgust on her face, her, coming downtown, good gosh her Jimmy Choo's would be ruined.

I sneezed as she tried giving me another bullshit reply and heard her mutter her disapproval like my mother.

"Did you go out in the rain?"

I looked at the reflection in the mirror that screamed, "I just got wet in a hailstorm," and the pounding on the sound of the roof didn't matter since she couldn't hear it, I was counting down the days till the roof collapsed.

"Of course not," I said as I grabbed the towel of the bed and ran it through my head. I couldn't help it. I didn't care it was past ten, I had to get a canvas. And when I need a canvas, I bloody needed it.

I looked at the canvas that was in three plastic bags that I made the clerk put in, after it was wrapped carefully in newspaper, no matter what happened, that thing could not get wet.

Not only did he think I was crazy pounding on his door an hour after they closed, lucky that they were just leaving, and not only did I give them twice the price of the canvas so I could get it, the look on his face when I walked out the door with my umbrella on the canvas rather than me, should be framed and placed on my door.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry what?" I asked, of course I wasn't listening to her, even her husband didn't listen to her. There was only one reason Amelia would be calling me this late, our parents would have put her up to it. It was no secret, they wanted all their children married with grandchildren before they started getting grey hair, and as the youngest I was the only one left.

Both my elder brothers were married and Amelia was onto her third child already, four months and going strong.

I think I was the only one with the problem that she was only two years older than my twenty-four and she was already having another child. You would think eight grand kids would get my parents off my back but now they were even more persistent with me.

Then again it was going to take them a whole lot of convincing, begging to make me even think about getting married and even then then answer would be a big fat no.

Not only was I the rebellious daughter who moved out at nineteen using University as an excuse, because well face it, I was not travelling three hours to get to a two hours class and coming all the way back home.

I saw a chance and I took it and after graduating by twenty I refused to move back home saying I liked the city and rented out a cheap apartment that was affordable by my work. If you could even call it work, teaching kids to draw, I made just enough to live day to day and that was what I wanted.

I didn't want to use that shiny black card in my wallet that would let me buy anything I want, I wanted to be independent.

And that was the first step by moving out. This freedom was better than living under their roof trying to impress them. 

"What?" I asked realising I droned off again.

"Avilia Hanson can you listen to me for once!"

"What?" I asked narrowing my eyes and taking off my shirt and throwing it on the chair. I could hold it up to dry tomorrow. I held the phone between my shoulder and ear as I looked around the mess to try and find another one.

"He will be there tomorrow night,"

"Who will be here?" I asked confused. Amelia talked like a hurricane was after her, so if I even zoned out for a second I would have missed a months worth of conversation. And I have the time span of a squirrel, I see a nut I go after it till something else catches my eye.

Did it smell? I picked up the blue jumper and took a sniff, nope it didn't. I threw it back on and sat on the bed trying to pry the tight wet jeans off, why did I wear these?

"Your date,"

Whoever invented sexy jeans should get an award for making every girls legs look attractive, at the same time I wanted to hit them across the head with a hammer. There had to be an easier way to get them off. Maybe I should youtube "how to take skinny jeans off".

"I don't have one?" and I was sure she wasn't talking about the fruits that were in my fridge.

"Of course not, I wouldn't call him a date, I would call him more your fiancée?"

I was just about to sneeze when she said that making me choke on my own sneeze, and boy was this a new feeling all together.

"Why f*cking what?"

"Language!"

"Don't you f*cking language me you f*ck, who the f*ck am I f*cking engaged to?" I snapped angrily over killing the poor swear word. Just because I knew it ticked her off, and every other member in the Hanson family. This is what they get for sending me to an all girls school. Pent up anger and a whole lot of anger issues.

"Do you remember Robert's son, they were our neighbours back in-,"

"No, and tell Robert and his stupid son to stay away from me,"

And before she could respond I hung up the phone. I should have known my parents couldn't keep more than two weeks without meddling in with my life. They wouldn't stop calling till I went over for a Sunday Roast which including every bachelor in the city, and now they just tied me off to one.

Who the hell did they think they were? My parents? I groaned realising I couldn't stay angry at them, I loved them and I would love them more if they left me alone.

I collapsed onto the bed not feeling like setting up the canvas, and after all the trouble I went to it. My mood was gone. So he was going to come tomorrow?

Let him.