September 983
My utmost apologizes to myself, for I haven't been able to get much time to write in my diary. Everything has been busy, hectic, and crazy. Since my birthday, I have accepted job as Oscar's assistant. Oscar is an amazing artist, for his magic being able to manipulate color and light is simply a match made in heaven. My parents haven't seen much of me lately, I can't say they're upset about it. Working for Oscar has only improved my happiness and relationships. For one, I have become very close with Emerald. She is unbelievably sweet, warm, and a exceptional person to be around. I have also become friends with Eunice and Mason. I'm glad my parents treat me capable of working with Oscar. Thankfully, they see it as job and find Oscar a respectable, hardworking man. I've never been one to experience things. I've always observed. I observed my classmates making friends, while I sat in the back and watched like a doll. I had to contain my feelings, which made me dry and unapproachable. The lack of understanding my own personal feelings is what led to my downfall on that fated day in June. The weather is getting colder. The storminess of summer is slipping through my fingers. Oscar and I are working unbelievably hard to finish his works for the annual Art Gala he showcases in.
"I picked up the paint you ordered!" I call out as I jingle the key in his studio door. All the curtains are drawn, shut empty of light. I look around the studio, except for a lump on the ground. I poke my head back into his apartment, Mason happened to be walking by. "Mason!" I whine out, "Where's Oscar?"
"Mr. Evanoff? I didn't see him leave the studio; he should be in there," he replies, scratching his head. He comes to the door, "Oh, you're right. I wonder where he could have gone."
"Maybe he's with Daphne," Eunice jokes. Mason rolls his eyes, she laughs and smacks his thigh with a dishtowel. She shakes her red locks, then goes back to cleaning the windows in the sitting room.
I lean against the door frame, "Who's Daphne?"
"Some woman that used to be here all the time, she was his old assistant. But, she's all grown up now and producing art on her own," Mason explains.
"Oh," I murmur, a little more depressed than I intended it to come out, "I'm going to wait in the studio until Oscar comes out," I add and quickly shut the studio door behind me. I huff out a sigh and kick the lump that's in the middle of my room. The lump grabs my ankle, I shriek and kick the lump until it screams back at me.
"Helena! Helena! It's me!" the lump cries out and I stop kicking. Arms flail in the blanket, a foot kicks out to the right. Oscar pokes his head out of the blanket, like a turtle, and grimaces at me.
"Why're you on the floor?" I moan and Oscar rolls to his side. He rubs his tired, groggy face with his hands. The light from in between the curtains dances on his face, his face is unshaven and messy. He rubs ink stained fingertips over his eyes and releases one last yawn.
"I haven't gotten a wink of sleep all night, the Art Gala is tomorrow. Did you pick your dress?" he spits out in a mumble of words.
"Dress? For what?" I ask.
Oscar stops moving, his countenance changes, whines, and then opens his lips, "I forgot to ask you, didn't I?"
"For what!" I repeat.
"The Gala. I want you to be my date for the night, sorry it's so short term. I forgot to ask, but you think you can still make it?" he asks, arising from his lump form into a fully, kinda, functioning human being.
"Me?" I perplex, "Wouldn't you rather go with someone else?"
"No, not in the slightest. I want to take you," he persists.
