The Night We Came to Be

Starry Night

"For once? Hey, I killed a spider! Isn't that facing your fears?" I rebutted.

"It doesn't count when the one who delivered the final blow was someone else. Try again."

We cackled out loud for who knows how long. Still reeling from laughter, I took my time to appreciate the quality of Maya's beautiful artwork.

"Kidding aside, Maya, this is actually really good. It kinda reminds me of..."

"Of?"

It's at the tip of my tongue! Who was it? The old dude who painted abstracts and whatnot?

"The guy with the red beard! That-uh... created Starry Night, was it? I think--"

"Oh, Van Gogh!" Maya supplied.

Damn it, she beat me to it!

"Yeah, yeah, that dude! Kinda has a resemblance, y'know, with the all-over-the-place swish of the brush."

Maya suddenly goes quiet.

"Uh oh..." I know that face she makes. Already, I'm doused with regret.

"No, it's okay, I promise! It's just, you got me," she explained.

"I... got you?"

Maya breathes a huge chunk of air. "Remember how my dad used to call me a pig because I was 'messy' and all that?"

"Y-Yeah? What about it?"

"He... did that because I loved to paint. I was a messy kid with messy hands, equipped with my messy materials, which inevitably made the entire house, well, messy."

I don't know how to react. Times like these, I wish I knew what needed to be said. I wish I knew what she wanted to hear.

Maya gently sniffles. "To this day, I still don't know why she defies my love for art. It's completely selfish and dumb for him to do that without any reason at all!"

Maya was at the cusp of tears.

"How could he? After all we've been through, with how much my family had struggled every single day, how could he?" she exclaimed, breathless.

Damn... I can feel her dissatisfaction. Her unfulfilling days, birthing nothing but confusion. Waking up to that kind of mindset? I don't think I'd survive.

"To hate me and what I do, it's... I just don't understand it."

She bows her head, the first I'd seen her do so since the night we met.

"I'm sorry I even brought it up."

Maya smiles faintly. "It's not your fault, D, don't kid yourself. Honestly, it's no one's fault but mine. Besides, I'm the one who decided on the whole artsy gal type of vibe anyway."

Please, don't hog the blame. I can't stand to see you torture yourself.

"You're too precious. Obviously, your father's still at fault for attacking your passion like that," I murmured.

Maya giggles through her sorrow. "Maybe. But parents aren't all that bad," she defended.

Really, Maya? I wholeheartedly disagree. They could be the absolute worst if they wanted to.

"It's getting pretty late," Maya suggested, standing back up, and wiping the wetness from her face.

"Don't you wanna stay a little longer? Aren't you glad we're here and not anywhere else? Because I am," I suggested.

"Well, when you put it like that." She sidles back down to her seat. "I can't say I disagree."

My cheeks are in dire need of repair, they are literally overheating.

"Anywhere but inside, right?" I gesture to the house, where suffering is prevalent and love is short-lived.

Maya narrows her eyes, shooting straight at me. "What did you want to forget?" she questioned, doubtful.

Straightforward as always.

"My parents."

"Wh-What happened?"

I sigh. "I'm jealous of you. I wish I had the courage to... talk about my past."

But I can't just leave her uninformed.

"They did something awful. But don't worry, that alone won't stop me."

"From doing... what, exactly?"

I chortle. "Can't you wait until tomorrow?"

Soon after, my face transforms into something deeply solemn.

"Tomorrow's gonna be the best night you'll ever have, Maya. That's a promise."