Jaded

Four

FOUR

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I felt like my skull was cracking in two. slowly pulled myself to a sitting position in my bed. I pressed a hand to my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut. I definitely had seen better days. The events of last night came flashing back to me. I remembered going to the den and then my fight with Jasmine. Then I recalled going upstairs with a guy. I had stumbled out an hour later and proceeded to the keg. After that everything was a blur. I glanced down at my clothes, seeing that I was still in my dress from last night. I must have stumbled in here late last night.

I groaned as I drug myself from my bed and down the stairs to the kitchen. I had hoped the smell of coffee would greet me but I wasn’t that fortunate. I stopped in front of the coffee maker, finding a note waiting. I quickly skimmed over the note, already knowing what it said. They wanted me to join them at the country club for a talk.

Fantastic. That could mean only one thing.

I spun around on my heel, sending myself back up the stairs. I slipped into a striped sun dress, pulling my hair into a loose bun on top of my head. I didn’t care for the dress but it was what they would expect me to wear. I sighed, moving into the bathroom. I put on my makeup and decided that my appearance was acceptable. I slipped on my heels before I made my way to the garage where my brand new Audi was waiting. I had wanted a Volkswagen Thing but dad wouldn’t allow it so now I drove this instead. It was a great car but I never wanted it. I slipped inside, gunning it out of the garage. I was at the country club in a matter of minutes.

I threw my purse over my shoulder, making my way into the club. As I walked in a young woman accosted me at the door. “Name, miss?” she asked with a polite smile. I pulled my sunglasses off, running a hand over my face. Was she serious? I came here all the time with my family. I shook my head as I thought of how ridiculous this all was. I hadn’t even had coffee yet. I stepped passed her, opting to ignore her. It would only waste my time to answer such an idiotic question. She attempted to stop me but I kept on, finding my seat within seconds.

“Perfect timing,” mom said.

“We were preparing to order breakfast.”

“Just what I needed,” I said.

I started scanning the menu. I was thinking over what I wanted when I felt a presence beside me. I drug my head around to find a guy who was probably a couple of years older than me standing beside me. I looked him up and down. He was tall and incredibly well built—lean but with muscles in all the right places. My eyes moved up to his face, feeling my heart speed up slightly. He was handsome, there was no denying that. He had the thickest hair I had ever seen and was a deep brown in color—almost black. It was a mess of untamed locks, sticking up in every direction but still managed to look like he intended it to be that way. His eyes were breath-taking—an intriguing hazel brown in color. All this wrapped with a square jaw, straight nose, and lips that managed to be both thin and full at the same time. Who was this guy?

Someone cleared their throat. I snapped out of my thoughts, focusing on the man in front of me. He had a smirk turning up the corners of his lips, revealing dimples. I would have admired how cute his smile was but the look on his face stopped me. He had the most amused look in his eyes, completely throwing me off. Did he know I had been checking him out or was it something else? “What can I get you to drink, miss?” he asked as he shifted from foot to foot. I jolted. I knew that voice! He was the guy from the street the other night.

“Coffee,” I told him.

“Just coffee?”

I had removed my gaze from his but at his question my eyes snapped back to him. What did he mean by that? I hadn’t stuttered. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Yes, just coffee,” I said through clenched teeth. I turned away from him, fixing my eyes onto my parents who were still considering their menus. I waited until I knew the guy had left before I let out a breath. He had unnerved me more than I liked to admit. It was rare when someone managed to rattle me and he had. It was worse now that I knew he had been the guy from the street. I turned to my parents. “Who was that man?”

Both my mother and father glanced up from their menus, their expressions mirroring each other’s. How could two people be so alike and hate each other? It didn’t make any sense to me. I’d love to know a person like me. It’d be more fun. There was Brynn but she had come too late to be any fun any longer. However, it was mom that answered instead of dad. “Just some waiter, darling. Why, did he bother you?” she asked with a raise of her eyebrows. “I can ask for another server if you like or perhaps have him fired. It would be no trouble.” I would have gaped at the suggestion but it wasn’t that surprising. Only my family would think getting someone fired was no trouble at all. I quickly shook my head as I returned to my menu.

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I stepped into the Kiln, dropping my purse onto the counter. The shop was empty. I knew that Eleri was around somewhere, probably in the back. Eleri was the owner of the Kiln, a pottery shop on the square. I had first started coming here after Pierce died. At first it had helped me deal with it but eventually it became a way for me to relax. It helped me forget about the world—if only for a few hours. I had been coming here since. It was my secret. I had kept it from my parents because they had their ideas and that was all there could ever be. They thought applying myself in science, math, and English was what was truly important. They saw art as a waste of time and resources. Their minds could only comprehend efficiency and to them there was nothing efficient about art. So because of that I decided to keep it to myself. I actually preferred it that way. It was pure—uncorrupted. I wanted to keep it that way for as long as I could.

I moved across the room, cutting off a chunk of clay and then I set to work.  I kneaded it with my hands, pressing the air bubbles out of the clay. After a few minutes I was satisfied everything was as it should be and I began shaping it. I liked to sculpt with my hands. The wheel was great for smooth pots and vases, but I didn’t come here to make pots. I hated that places like the Kiln were ringed by the elderly or children. To me it was insulting that people thought that the only thing people would want ceramics for is making pots and tiles. There were a million possibilities and it was a waste to limit yourself.

So I sculpted instead.

I never started a project with an idea in mind—or at least not usually. I just did what I felt. I went with it. They came out unusual. You could call it abstract, I guess but it was nothing like the meaningless splatters you might see on some paintings. It was deeper, darker. It was Jackson Pollock and Cy Twombly. It was simplistic in its chaos. It was wild and uncontrolled. I loved it. I threw myself into it and maybe some might say it was pointless or maybe they might say it isn’t art but it was for me. It was telling a story, even if it was just for me.

* * * AUTHOR'S NOTE * * *

Picture of Parker. It's about as close a person as I can match.- - - - - - - - -  >