Simply Sinful (Boyxboy)

4) My Aunt the Pimp

Thoughts of Abel has filled my head since I met him days ago. I sit at the window in my art studio staring at a blank canvas in front of me. This is my third attempt at painting. I can see the colors in my head. The colors I should use for this project. The reds, blacks, dark blues, and purples swirl around in my mind yet the image refuse to come to me.

I turn to look down at the floor where my first two attempts lie. Even to my untrained eye I can tell the work is reminiscent of a finger painting done by a two year old. I look away and resume staring at a blank canvas. I pick up a paintbrush. Immediately I place it back in its place only to pick it up once more. I'm going crazy.

I fling the paintbrush across the room. Why can't I focus? I place my hands in my head while I try to calm myself. A loud knock jolts me from my meditation. Before I can say come in, my ears pick up the recognizable sound of my mother's shoes walking towards me. I refuse to look up and acknowledge her.

Her hand touches the middle of my back. I can feel her lips on my cheek. I lift my head and glare at her.

"Yes?" I ask a question, but my mother just stands there with a big grin on her face. Her eyes go to the canvases on the floor then to the thrown paintbrush before turning to look  at me again. She places a hand over her mouth to suppress the chuckle I should have known was coming.

I hate when she laughs at my work. She does this anytime I fail at something. If I ask, she'll just say she's not laughing at me, she's providing me with the motivation to succeed. I'm still not sure how that one works. Of course, I want to be the best but I'd prefer to hear encouraging words and not the sarcasm laced sentences she tends to use.

She continues to stare at the paintings. Her head moves from side to side as her mouth turns downward in a small frown. Our eyes meet and I can see the pity and disappoint in them. I sigh. It's loud enough for her to hear.

"Did you need something?" I make sure my words hide the feelings steadily growing inside me. Small tremors begin to shake my body. I'm not sure if it's the anger my mother's actions make me feel or if I'm on the verge of breaking down in tears. My mother smiles again and gives me a little hug.

"Don't worry," she says, "I'm sure Dominic will pay for more art lessons if you ask him." A harsh sound escapes me. It startles me just as much as it do her. She's unable to control herself at times like this. I know this, but her seemingly good "advice" still hurts.

I close my eyes. If I rise to the bait, she'll think she's won. In this new place, I refuse to lose to her anymore. I will gain my first victory over this woman. I smile at her and say as sweetly as I can, "do you think I should call his house first or just go over and ask. What am I saying?" I shake my head and tap my chin as though I have just thought of something. "Of course if I pay him a visit I'll probably have to explain who I am and why I'm there. What do you think? After all, I really do need those less...."

Before I can finish the sentence, I feel the sting of my mother's hand connecting with my cheek. Her arms are cross. Her blue eyes glare at me. She raises her arm and prepares to strike me again. I don't move. I sit there and take it.

A single tear falls from her eye. Soon more are coming, following the same path as the first. Her thumbs become makeshift tissues. I watch as she wipes the tears away. I feel horrible. The anger that was once there is replaced with self-loathing. I went too far.

I stand and walk over to my mother. I hug her and whisper that I'm sorry. She doesn't respond. I take a step back. Only this women can cry and still look beautiful doing it.

"I'm so sorry," I say louder. My voice holds regret at the words spewed in anger just a minute ago I wish I could take them back. "I would never do that to you," I reassure my mother. My mother finally looks at me. Her grin is back in place. She reaches out and tentatively touch the spot on my face where she struck me.