Painted

Intro to Paint: Rule One

"When you commit, you must be willing to invest your heart and soul into the matter."

Rory told me this rule. I was nine and I was running around saying I'd be the best artist in the world in a rhythmic chant. This all started from seeing amma draw a 2-D rabbit out of a dulled-out pink. On the large piece of paper, I was copying the animal onto any piece of drawn-in grass, creating a slightly off-putting army.

Anyways, thirteen-year-old Rory marched behind my little steps, humming along with me until he spun me around to face him.

"I'm going to tell you the biggest secret so you can be the best artist, okay?" he had asked, his face lit up with a toothy grin. Rory always saved his smiles for family. "No one else needs to see them," is what he always said.

My eyes had pushed themselves out of their sockets at the biggest reveal of my nine-year-old life. "Tell me!" I had practically screamed in demand, legs shaking with excitement.

And so he told me that rule. He called it "Rule One" and I found myself quoting it throughout the whole day, to the point of pissing off my mom.

She was slicing a cucumber for the salad, hardly paying attention to what she was doing. Her eyes were too often looking up at the television at the end of the counter, with her favourite crime show on. I was just mesmerized by her head bobbing up and down as I sat on the stool behind her. I swung my legs back and forth, and once the show merged into a commercial, I spoke.

"Don't cut your finger, mom! If you're going to commit, you have to put your heart and soul into it! So pay attention!" I scolded, and my mom laughed, waving me off as she finished cutting the vegetable and tossed the slices into the mixing bowl we used for literally everything.

Five minutes later, she jokingly told me not to become a serial killer, because she didn't want me to kill her just because she made cookies differently than what I liked (cinnamon chocolate by the way). I responded as you may have expected.

"If I was to commit, I'd have to put my heart and soul into it, and I don't think I want to kill people, mom." My mom sighed, knowing it'd be a long day after that.

I kept that rule with me until it was broken not long after I turned fifteen. My brother, Eli, was at work, just some lame retail job, and Rory had left me to go pick him up. Normally, I'd be like a dog ready for a ride across the area, but I wasn't feeling well. I felt nauseous, probably because of the amount of popcorn I ate while watching movies.

Naturally, I didn't learn from my mistakes, and as I kept my eyes glued to the screen of some criminal documentary, I shoved my mouth with more burnt popcorn.

Eli's girlfriend was at our house, that I knew. Though, I didn't really pay attention as to when she walked in. She had come straight from her job at some makeup store, and they both agreed it'd be easier if she just waited for him to come home, as was their usual plan.

I glanced at the clock. It was only a few minutes past five, so I figured Rory and Eli wouldn't be back for another half hour. I groaned and sat up from my awkward position on the beat-up couch, tensing as my neck finally decided to reveal that it was suffering.

I remember I looked toward the stairs. "Hey, Keira! You want some dinner?" I yelled as I picked up my popcorn bowl and stepped into the kitchen. I had no problem starting dinner for everyone, because I knew Eli tended to accidentally skip lunch, and Rory always ate crap, like me.

I got no response.

So, as any host would, I put down my bowl, sighed dramatically, and walked up the stairs that my legs protested against.