My paint room has always been my esc ape from the world. With all the excitement of Liam over the past few days, I haven’t been able to return to it. I decided to take advantage of Liam’s good mood by going now. The room was long but not very wide. Everything was crammed together. Paintings both on the wall and resting on the floor pilled over each other as if fighting for attention. Broken easels propped up against bookshelves, and chairs bump into them while trying to stand.
The room itself wasn’t all great. It was what I decided to do in the room. Painting is my ultimate escape from reality. Even if I’m not creating the design, I still find a certain distraction from it. Touching a wet brush to canvas is possible the only therapy I ever need.
Lorde’s Pure Heroin and Lana Del Rey’s Born to Die was on repeat. Their music both calmed and inspired me. A plastic plate rested on my lap. Many colors were squirted onto the surface: red, yellow, black, white, and orange. My paint brush tip was coated in red. The painting was almost done, but little imperfections needed to be fixed here and there.
“Dark Paradise” was filling the room, perfect lyric after perfect lyric. All of a sudden, the volume was turned down but not all the way off. Liam hovered over my shoulder examining the painting.
“Why would you paint something so stupid and pointless?” he seemed to have asked it more out of curiosity than spite
I took a while to answer as I put my brush down and went over the painting myself. It was simple, for a child’s room. Yellow streaks of paint acted as the background. Centered in the middle was a fire truck. A small fire man holding a hose stood behind it, beside him was a Dalmatian puppy. Painted under that were black blocks that spelt out Leo.
It was a request from a neighbor down the street. I didn’t have a steady job, so I sold paintings out the garage whenever I can. Requests were where the real money comes from, though. Leo’s mum offered me $200 for a simple customized painting for the baby’s room. Her husband is a firefighter, so I thought that would be a good idea.
I really didn’t know if people requested my art because they thought I was talented or because they felt sorry for me. First, only family friends of the neighborhood knew what happened to my family. Then, everyone knew. At one point, it was the neighborhood gossip- that’s when my paintings went for insane amounts of money and the requests piled in like crazy. It’s old news now, but still, I always have a request to work on.
“It’s for a friend. She’s going to pay me for it,” I answered.
He scuffed and continued walking around the room. My paint brush found its way back to the canvas only to be distracted again.
“This one,” he pointed to a painting. The painting was white with a copper, rustic paint used to contrast the picture. A man formed out of a bottle stood out. It was one of the only paintings I could never bare to part with. “Alcoholism, right?”
I nodded my head and stood from my chair. There was a small sink set up in the corner where I washed my brushes. They had to be cleaned out after every use or else the paint will clump. My fingers ran through the brush as the water streamed, rinsing out the paint.
“Who is it?” he pressed the subject forward.
The subject was touchy, and I was desperate for him to drop it. I decided to ignore him and change the subject, “It may be a stupid and pointless painting, but it’s how I get by. Selling these to the neighbors is the only income I have.”
Liam drew in close to me. Gently, he touched his hand to my cheek and softly whispered, “With me around, you’ll never have to paint anything so dumb ever again.”
That moment was like a scene from a movie. His words were sounded like something that would be found in a book. All of it was so perfect yet so unrealistic.
“Give it a week, and you’ll be bored of me. You’ll leave soon when you find out I’m nothing special, just a depressed girl with an art obsession.”
He lifted my chin to where I was looking straight into his eyes. His kind brown looked so far into me. It felt as if he knew my responses before I even thought about them.
“You have a chemical imbalance. It shouldn’t label or define you. To be honest, everyone has something. You’re depressed. I’m insane. Somehow our paths crossed, though, and I’m staying with you, Sam.”
It was amazing how Liam can take my breath away with such few words. What he said was true. There’s so many physical and emotional struggles people can have. The fact that someone can get away with not even having slight anxiety seems almost impossible these days. I didn’t have the words to say, so I just smiled up at him.
“Tomorrow, we’re going to the fair. Just you and me,” he stated it as a fact. He kissed my cheeks and then turned away. I stood there in awe for what seems like hours. My hand crept up to my cheek. It rested there, replaying the moment over and over again. I could almost feet the sensation of his plump lips again. This moment, this moment is something to remember.
The sound of the shower snapped me out of my daze. Part of Liam’s effect on me was magnificent; the other was partially crazy. This whole thing started off with Liam insulting my art, and now I have a date with him. Um, okay.
