Blank Canvas

Chapter Eleven

Summary: Jay encouraged and helped Talia on an art assignment that she was struggling with. In turn, as show of gratitude, Talia invited Jay for dinner.

I took a deep breath as I put down the hemp tote that I was carrying on the floor, entering the tree house. It had been a nice day. The weather was agreeable and I had the whole afternoon all to myself.

I pulled out all the items from the bag and set to work, trying my best to clear my head and focus on what I had to do. Mia was with Mom at the bakery and I was home alone. I did not want to be inside our house on my own. I remembered those words that I once read saying that an idle mind was a devil's workshop or something. Well, an empty house was the sort of the same. It was the devil's practice area, or its dummy test.

I kept thinking about Celia and the fact that she seemed to be not mad but a bit miffed at me after that Sam incident last weekend. She hardly said a word to me at breakfast.

I kept thinking about all these changes that were happening. First, Dad moved away. Even when my parents separated years ago, Dad was still around. He was still close by. Now, he was not that accessible. Sure, I could call him on the phone easily but I was more used to his physical presence. Hearing my dad's voice without seeing his face was something that I had to acclimate to. Even when we have video call, it still never was the same as before. Also, Mom was getting married in a few months. It made me wonder what would come next and if I could handle it. I was struggling as it is. I carried these thoughts and worries on my own, not sharing them to anyone. Not Celia. Not Avis. Not Jay. Not because of fear of being misunderstood or judged, but mainly because my dilemma may not be as serious and significant as other people's and the society's problems. Just the other day, Avis and I passed by a young girl with a baby on its arm begging for coins to spare. Others might be consoled when a glaring reminder of how lucky they were that they were not in such sordid state flaunted itself from out of the blue. As for me, nothing is comforting when you start comparing your life to the maladies of the world. Somehow, I felt worse and helpless.

Change was good. Essentially. I believed in that. But change took time and sometimes, change meant heartbreak and pain.

After about an hour or more, I made small progress. I was trying to finish a small painting, a self-portrait to be exact. I was using cosmetics as a material. I was not complaining because the other types of media assigned by our teacher were much less pliable. One of my classmates, Mimi, got juice from fruits. Imagine the mess of that one. Aptly, Avis got feathers and leaves. Valerie got tissue paper. Other medium included chocolate syrup, wood chips and shavings and even glue. I definitely lucked out when I drew the shortest matchstick and got makeup as my material.

I positioned a handheld mirror against the wall and studied my face. I gazed at my morena skin speckled with a few dark spots of recent hormonal acne on my chin. I took note of my nose, the shape of my lips, the width of my forehead and my thick and dark eyebrows. I refuse to pluck them. Celia referred to them as the virgin eyebrows. She was not mocking them, but she had been wanting to trim them for years. I did not mind that my eyebrows looked a bit bushy and unkempt. Next to the mirror was a medium-sized photograph of Mia and I that I initially wanted to use as a guide but somehow, the mirror was doing more wonders.

"Tell me you did not succumb to the persuasive nature of vanity that is slowly poisoning our generation."

I smiled. I turned around and there was Jay. There were two juice bottles in his right hand and a bag of popcorn on the other. "Tell me you did not yield to the trend of people taking pictures of their own reflection with their buffed tummies exposed."

"That's not happening," he said with a snort-laugh. "I can't stomach that. Actually, my stomach can't stomach that."

I smiled at his play of words. "How did you know that I'm here?" I looked at the two bottles that he was holding with interest. His mom always buys these fresh, naturally-sweetened mango juice from a friend of hers who owned a small green grocery.