It's after we break away from another heated kiss that we finally realize another presence in the room. We gaze at the short and plump man, who scowls us. He swiftly warns that the museum will be closing in five minutes and to start on heading out. We comply and stand to leave, when he irritably stops us and asks if we've stolen anything.
I bite back the urge to make a sarcastic remark about how I don't think I'd be able to stuff a entire painting in my pocket. Instead, I shake my head no and so does Liam. He brings me closer when we start making our way to the exit and glances over his shoulder, making a loud and obnoxious comment that he obviously wants the man to hear.
I can't help but let out a laugh and look over my shoulder as well to witness the stubby man's reaction. He turns a bright shade of red that I never thought existed before he spins around on his heel and marches off in the opposite direction, mumbling on how he hates teenagers.
And then we run off. Hands intertwined and letting out laughs and rude remarks on how the man appeared to represent a tomato.
It isn't till later on in the night that we split and I ride home with my dad. The car ride is silent. Probably because he's absorbed in his thoughts and so am I.
Mostly about Liam and I, and my dad's confession.
That's the only thing that seems to be on my mind as the next two days pass. I visit Liam's place frequently, and also the art room at school, where I hurry to finish the canvas. Liam helps me as best as he can.
He also tries to bring up the discussion of what I said to him at the art museum. About my dad and Tara. I refuse to acknowledge it though. I made the decision I wouldn't speak of it that night I arrived home from dinner with my dad.
But that wasn't really a surprise to Liam, I imagine. Because usually when I'm confronted with a problem I'm normally not able to deal with, I ignore it. Though that really doesn't stop the pestering thoughts about the whole situation.
I find myself wondering about my dad's new women he's trying to replace my mom with. I don't know who she is, but I've come to a conclusion that I don't like her.
My dad had asked the next day when I had some free time to perhaps go and have dinner with him and Tara. I didn't respond. I simply shrugged and swallowed down a sneer at the mention of my dad's new lover.
I mainly resisted acting mean because of the way my dad had been acting. He was so.. happy, lately. He would smile and laugh and spend hours on the phone like some love stricken teenager.
It made me sick.
But I couldn't find it in me to rain on his parade. Because in those brief two days I saw the old him. He had even returned to his previous routine. Getting up early, making breakfest for the two of us and putting in effort around the house. Even his behavior changed towards me.
He would try to converse with me. Nothing too significant, just questions about my day and how school is going.
I never did respond. All I did was stare at him with narrowed eyes and wonder if he'd go back to his old ways after this new woman broke his heart.
It wasn't too long after that I felt some sort of guilt leak into my conscious at the cruel thought. I should be happy, right? That my dad was finally functioning again? But I wasn't. And I don't think I'd ever be.
I decided it wasn't good to linger on the thought and so I focused on other things. Mostly with the whole canvas.
In fact, I had only the next two days to finish it since the play would premier this Saturday. So that's why directly that Thursday, after failing another one of Mr. Matthews math test, I start my journey down the hall and to the art room, where I hope Liam is already located.
