This Town Called Nowhere

Chapter 23: Home And Houses

23

Like other nights before, I would have keep myself awake studying for examinations I wouldn't be having for months. I would have, but now I have managed my time to do 2 things before bedtime. From 7-9 p.m., I'll do everything in my daily school to-do list. From 9-10 p.m., I will be drawing, something I've never done seriously than how much I want to other than the illustrations I've made for our lectures.

Artemis's face greets me after a long hour of quiet dinner. She sits on top of my desk, her hair tied up to a messy, purple bun. She's looking at me with those eyes that has the right mix of coffee and caramel under the light shade. The lopsided grin on her lips instantaneously makes my corners turn up. She wasn't in school today. But I'm sure she's doing something worth her absence. Someone like her never runs out of ideas how to change this world for the greater good. It may be simple as picking up somebody's trash, but like she said, small things make great things.

Sighing, I walk to my chair and study her face on my 7-year-old sketchbook. I never thought I would ever use this again. The last time I've ever drawn something in here was when I was still a kid. My first sketch was a house, drawn at the moment I found this book when we were sorting items to be donated to the Good Samaritan Foundation when we were vacationing at Grandpa's farm house in Colorado.

My last drawing was an unfinished sketch of Mom and Dad. It was the first hyperrealistic sketch I tried to work on. It looks somewhat like a scribble than a sketch, but it looks decent enough to depict reality and elaborate details.

My grandparents, and even my Dad once, told me I'm gifted with good hands when it comes to visual arts. But due to Mom's firm authority of my life, the 5 years I should have wasted honing my skills were lost in pursuit of knowledge and reputation and other skills. The illustrations for the lectures in my classes could count for some practice, but I never really thought of that until now. When I think of it, I never really stopped drawing, have I? My skills may not be as well developed as in the academic fields, but I've drawn illustrations, maps, anatomies, buildings and infrastructures, landscapes, and those probably counted as practice when I didn't intend it to.

My childhood dream to be the next Rembrandt of the modern world was dumped deep down under the ground. If it wasn't for Artemis, I wouldn't have the courage to revive it from the dead.

And speaking of Artemis, her silhouette hovers behind my window, a wide grin pasted on her lips as she follows my movement. How she get up to my window, I don't know, but I might as well enjoy her presence.

"Hi." Artemis's voice greets me after I let her in. She looks around my room and I walk back to my desk and cover my unfinished sketch of her. Her eyes run around my walls, shining caramel over the things she looks at. The back of her neck is tempting to kiss but I hold myself back. It's too early in the night for making out.

I follow her to my tiny library and from there, she takes out The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn. I smile, "You really like that book, huh?"

She grins at me and scans the book. "It's nice. Like your room. I like your room, Armstrong." She glances around, from my bed, my books, the trophies, plaques, and certificates I've collected for 18 years to my desk, and to the photographs of my family and friends.

Artemis nears my desk but I quickly grab her and kiss her neck. Her beautiful scent crawls into my nose and I can't help myself but feel elated as I dance a kiss from her nape across the side of her neck. She giggles, but soon enough, her breathing hitches. I waltz away from my desk before I turn her to face me. Little strands of purple falls from her bun and I clear them over to her ear. "Where have you been?"