ARTGIRL 20: shot down
i find it insane that Artgirl has reached almost 4 million views even if I haven't updated in ages. Thank you infinitely. My time away has made me realize how much I love to write. Holed up studying sciences for a year has made me yearn sitting down and writing for hours, for me and for you. I realize my writing is a bit rusty, but bear with me. (Get it?) I'll be updating Artgirl every Thursday from now on, expect regular updates! And heartbreak! (Oups. Who said that?)
-
"I suddenly realized it's no coincidence the two middle letters of life are if. For every action we make, there is a reaction. The outcome often beyond our control, fragile and fraught with ruinous consequences. Like a soap bubble made real by a gentle breath only to be taken by it." ― Michael Faudet, Dirty Pretty Things
Nicolas Bear Forrest
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
I'd been wanting to be an architect. Architect. Archi-techt. Design buildings and make them into what I want to be.
And honestly, no one tells you how hard it'll be to achieve the grandness of that word. At first, it is an idea. A picture of yourself building for others, for the world. Designing buildings so beautiful that there would be more people writing about it than windows- and my dream building, it let sunlight in from everywhere.
What do you want to be? Doctor. Mom and Dad bought you that doctor set when you were a kid; and you felt like a superhero. You're saving a life. You don't wake up every morning for you only, it is for the people who choose to put their health, their happiness, their well-being in your capable hands. Little do they know it took you years of tears at 3 a.m., cold sweat in the exam room and holing yourself in your room on every Saturday night to get there. Teacher. Admirable. You want to fix your own teachers' mistakes, make a difference in the lives of children who are just as lost as you were, as you are. You may draw the path to a deeper understanding of your reason to wake up. Astronaut. Sigh. You'll touch the stars before you get there. Princess. You fit society's standards of beauty, you are a gem in your family's eyes. Pretty eyes and long legs, you'll be groomed to be elegant and lovely. Post pictures of yourself; sell your beauty for people's envious eyes. Be their goal before your own. Public's princess. Singer. You fit an image, a story. Find your plan B, because if this fails, you'll only have your art to wipe your tears away. but what else? What will bring you money, what is stable?
What is safe, self-fulfilling and profitable?
The answer is almost everything, if you have the right resources.
Funny enough, college made me feel like I was falling in an infinitely long hole. Suspended from reality. There is no time to figure out your place in the world, there's even less time to sleep. My insomnia was gone in the first weeks, because I valued sleep more than caring for others. It came back after my first assignments, but it was not voluntary. I strapped it to my head, ignored my health's cries and stayed up studying. Studying. Studying, over and over until my love for anything that wasn't Zoey was slowly, well-
Dying.
I hated coffee. I had drunk so much of it that I was maybe 20% sure that my blood had traces of instant-coffee in it. In the morning, it was my best friend. At night, it was my worst enemy. Fatigue got sprinkled onto coffee and the caffeine helped me make sense of things, but I could feel my mind growing tired of the endless routine.
What kept me sane was seeing her. She was a break from anything that made sense and as much as she was the fog in my brain, she helped me see the world clearly. She reminded me of dreams and hope, because that was who she was to me.
Everything bright. She brought me food when I forgot to eat, she covered me with a blanket when I used my books as pillows and comforted me when stress gnawed my heart out. She looked at me with a hauntingly beautiful smile and told me that in the end, all of this would be worth it and that everything would fall into place.
If she was in front of me now, I would tell her she was wrong. All that was broken could fall apart as quickly as it got fixed; no glue could withstand the weight of life's hurdles.
"You have to be gentle with the books," Maria scowled at me.
I looked down to the feather duster in my hands and frowned. I'd barely been dusting the tops of the books. "I am. The books can't feel a thing."
"I can," she glared at me for a moment. "Don't brush the dust to the side, it's pointless. Brush it towards the outside or the back."
"Okay." I stared at my coworker for a moment, wondered what someone as tough as her ended up working in a bookstore.
Nevertheless, owning it. Maria's eyes went against her features, making her sharp. Her blonde hair was so short that its tips had only begun to curl. Big glasses did nothing but make her dark eyes wider, she seemed to point lasers with them. Maybe that was how she heated her coffee up; she seemed to be sipping from the same cup all day.
"Why are you staring?" Maria's eyes didn't leave a new edition of The Catcher in the Rye. She took a long sip of her coffee. "You have a girl, don't you? You do know I'm double your age, don't you? I may not look it, but still."
"I wasn't. I do. It's just- don't you get bored around here sometimes? All you've got is classical piano and fake rain sounds playing. Don't you get tired?"
"Of having no customers? Of rushes and lows?" She looked up, with raised brows.
"Uh," Yes. "No, that's not what I meant."
Maria slammed her book shut. "Say what you mean, then."
"No, I'm a little scared you'll fire me if I do," I was honest then. "Or hurt me," I added in a quieter tone.
She snickered, hearing it all. "You have a right to be. People don't come here to party or even talk about anything, this is their little safe haven from the world. They get to drink good coffee, eat a croissant and buy the book in their butter-covered fingers. It's not about boredom, it's about safety," Maria snapped away from the fondness she held for her store. "After you're done with the shelf, you can pick a book and read it. Might do you some good. You need to see the world through someone else's eyes for once."
"I'm good, thanks."
My shift ended in an hour and after moving boxes around all day and reorganizing books that had been messed up by a visiting class of kids, the last thing I wanted to do was read. With all of that, I had to clean up after customers who got so consumed in their books that they let their coffee stains soak into mugs and let their crumbs fall on the tables.
"It wasn't an offer," she said. "You need to read to be able to recommend anything to customers. With a pretty face like yours, people will believe anything you have to say."
Just as I was about to answer, a customer walked in. All yours, mouthed Maria. So I smiled, welcomed him and tried my best to help him find his desired post-war novel and recommend the best dessert to go with it.
Somehow, as if by magic, people started trickling in after the awkward pre-lunch pause. They all searched for a newly released book, or simply to sit down and eat. As lovely as the idea seemed to be, owning The Love Club couldn't have been an easy job for Maria. It was the perfect fuse of food and literature, a small coffee shop with walls and walls of bookshelves all around. People sat by windows and books, read and let the warm aroma of coffee be the cushion for their love of words.
As if by instinct, I was fixing little things in the place. Its small size made my architectural instincts thrive. Maria may have been in love with the shop's soul, but I was more focused on the crooked paintings and their placement. Any one of Zoey's paintings would fit perfectly here, she would undoubtedly love the shop.
People like Maria only deepened my excitement to start my life. She had found her passion and was living it; getting a good income by serving people coffee and combining it with her literature degree. She wrote and knew how to make a caramel macchiato with combinations of nuts and spices that made her list of regulars lengthen every day.
"Oi. Pretty boy." I snapped out of a trance, staring into nothing. The washcloth in my hands was dry from being wrung repeatedly. "I don't pay you to stare into nothing. Go home."
Remembering the list of jobs and internships I had to apply for today, as well as going to Adrian's radio station to help Zoey advertise Elisa, I quickly hurried off. With an eye roll and a scoff, Maria continued serving customers and explained that if they got a single stain on a book while reading, they had to pay for it.
She had her dream job, but didn't sit on a chair all day and did nothing. She had patience and sarcasm in the palms of her hands, ready to ward off anything that could ruin her peace of mind.
Soon, no amount of patience and sarcasm could restore mine.
-
You have two unheard messages. Press 1 to play messages.
"Hi, Mr. Forrest! This is Theo Curtis calling, from Kleinfeld and Co. I wanted to inform you that, out of 100 applicants, your application for an internship has been considered, and Mr. Kleinfeld would like to conduct an interview with you. We know you're located in London, and fortunately he is currently there for business. Please call us back to confirm a time for the interview. Thank you and have a good day!"
Heartbeat: overdrive. This was the ultimate opportunity and the first choice for an internship. It was any architect's dream job. Situated in New York city.
"Forrest, I'd much rather talk to you face to face than on the phone. It's common curtesy for you to pick up. Chuckle. Totally kidding. Call me when you're done with your shift, I've had a long day and well- I'm missin' you. So yeah. Buh-bye!"
Heartbeat: slower. This was the epitome of a dream girl. The only one who made my heart feel at home. In London.
If my dreams came true in another city, all I would want was her by my side. If she was by my side and I was stuck in a job with the heavy chains of "what would have been", I would be drowning in regret.
Heartbreak or success.
I called back the number holding my future in its hands first. "Hi, this is Nico Forrest. I got a call from your office about an interview for the internship?"
"Give me a moment to find your file," the voice from the message said. Papers were shuffled around and as my stomach was doing somersaults, I was trying to at least come off as calm. Somewhat. "Ah. Mr. Forrest. We have three possible times for an interview, Mr. Kleinfeld is busy as you know."
"Of course."
"He is actually available today at six. Would a later date be more suitable?"
I forgot everything I had to do for the rest of the day.
My shift ended at 4, I had more than enough time to get ready, depending on the place of meeting. "N-no. It's perfect. Absolutely perfect. Where and when?"
"At six sharp," I detected impatience. "I'll e-mail you the address of the restaurant. Mr Kleinfeld does not like office settings when doing interviews. He also is not one for tardiness, so I'd recommend getting there early."
"Thank you so much," I could barely contain the grin on my face. My head felt empty. I'd have to miss some of the radio interview Zoey had planned for Elisa, but I was sure she would understand. She was a dream come true; she wouldn't stand in the way of another.
"Good luck, and have a good day."
The most important question was glaring at me: Did I have a clean suit?
-
The day spiraled endlessly, with time fleeting and slowing as if it had its own mind.
As soon as I hung up with Kleinfeld's assistant, my first instinct was to call Zoey. She was the only one I wanted to talk to, the only one I wanted to hear all about it. She was the song on loop in my heart and changing the station anytime soon was unthinkable. All she knew was that I got an interview for an internship at my first choice company, I spared her the details of where I'd be if I got it.
Taking her lunch hour later, she met me at my flat. She knew me like the back of her hand; knew that I barely dressed up and that I'd need her help. Nothing calmed my nerves like she did; nothing could prepare me for a big moment better than her presence.
Clouded thoughts and foggy vision, my senses were heightened when I saw her in my bedroom, looking through clothes. She bounced when she saw me, clutching her chest.
"Nicolas. Don't do that."
I turned down the stereo, blasting a record I knew she loved. "Zoey. I called out your name, you were too busy dancing. Having fun?"
"Uh," she glared at the outfit choices in my closet and, exasperated, shrugged. "You have nothing but band t-shirts, and plain colored t-shirts. Not giving me much to work with."
I fell on the bed, heart falling along into my stomach. "I have nothing to wear?"
Zoey raised her brows and laughed loudly, plopping down next to me. "Am I supposed to know your closet better than my own? Just because I steal your shirts doesn't mean I know all you have."
"I know. I just-I think? I think I have a clean button-up shirt somewhere. I just can't remember where."
She rummaged through the clothes one more time, taking a few more moments to be careful. She pulled out the blue shirt I had in mind and held it against her own chest. "This one? It's nice. You've got an hour to shower and get ready, and I've got to be down at Adrian's studio in thirty minutes."
Before I knew it, I was pacing; already imagining all that could go wrong. I would spill the food on my shirt and Mr. Kleinfeld would laugh, shake his head and wonder why I ever thought I could be part of such a prestigious company. I could arrive a minute late and he'd be gone, with the waitress shaking her head at me, saying: "You lost your only chance because you didn't bother going out two minutes earlier. What a shame." I could-
"Nicolas," Zoey held my face gingerly in her hands. She stood on her toes. My head felt big compared to her small hands, but my train of thought stilled. "I've never seen you like this. This is important, isn't it?"
You're important. More than anything. "Yeah," I breathed instead.
"Okay, then," she wore a kind smile. "Go shower, brush your mess of hair and go rock the interview. You're a hard worker and you deserve everything good. You got this."
"I don't deserve you," I whispered.
A man who deserved her wouldn't even consider going to the interview that could potentially destroy her, again. A man who deserved her would love her unconditionally, without putting any moment with her at risk. A man who deserved her would value her as she was: a diamond with cracked edges, with unmatched preciosity. A man who deserved her would learn from his mistakes.
But this was my one chance to step into the world I'd always dreamed of walking into. It was my chance to make all of those sleepless nights of studying, school-induced depression and small talk with classmates who wanted nothing but to crush you down worth it. It was my chance to live for what I had left Silvercrest for; to make all the visions of architectural pieces come to life. It was the chance to live for what I dreamed for.
She shook her head and smiled, kissed me softly. I couldn't hear anything but my heartbeat. "In all honesty, you probably don't. I deserve the world, but you're giving me yours and I'm giving you mine. I can't ask for more than that. Your happiness is a part of mine."
Just as she was about to leave, I told her the words she'd wanted to hear before I broke her heart years ago. The words I'd regretted not saying for years, the words that crushed my heart as she stubbornly argued for me to stay in Silvercrest and not go away.
"I love you, Hunter. Always have. Always will."
She stopped in her tracks, froze. She was all of the little things, all of the peace of mind I'd ever wanted to have. She turned my way and smiled, I could see the ghost of tears in her eyes. "I'll see you later tonight, Forrest."
-
I saw the world through the eyes of an architect; designing places of love and loss. Then again, they weren't all that different. As I sat at that table, I waited with clenched hands and an empty stomach.
Kleinfeld was a man with little time, less patience. He was sitting in front of me at six sharp, I arrived thirty minutes in advance. He'd chosen a small restaurant, fancy enough to make me feel broke just by looking at the menu. He was the sharpest knife I knew, and a part of me squirmed upon seeing him. I remembered her words and matched his intense look, shaking his hand firmly.
"I'm sure you know who I am. No need for introductions. Who are you?"
"Nicolas Forrest, sir. Pleasure to meet you."
He reminded me of an ice statue. I felt like my pits were producing more sweat than they ever have before. "I'm going to call you Nicolas," he announced, as if to himself. "Present yourself to me, Nicolas."
"Uh, I'm 23 years old. I'm studying architecture at Bartlett. Being an architect has been a dream of mine for a while, and I think working at your company would give me the opportunity to thrive in that domain. Learning from people like you and those who work alongside you will give me the chance to learn from the best."
He nodded. "We are the best. And do you think you deserve to work with the best?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why? Why shouldn't I get up and give the job to someone who is more qualified, who has actually worked in the domain? What makes you so special?"
"I have the potential to be the best."
He took a long sip of water. "Potential isn't enough. Would you drop everything to be an architect at Klein&Co? We don't take anyone, I'm sure you're aware."
"That's the thing. I'm not just anyone. I have ideas that will grow in your company and potentially thrive. Mr. Kleinfeld, with all due respect, your company has potential to be better. Your ideas and your innovations have changed the face of architecture, especially in North America. If you let me step foot into your world, I can assure you that in the future, your company can do even more. If you give me the chance to see the world through Klein&Co's eyes, I will be able to work with you and give you my ideas. I do not aim to be just an intern; I aim to contribute to your company just as much as it will enrich me."
The stoic man sitting in front of me started to laugh, and he did so hysterically. His face was turning completely red and he loosened his tie to be able to breathe better. "Ah. I'm sorry. I feel like you were trying to sell me a business deal. Charming, really."
I was at a loss for words, but I did crack a smile. Going along with his flow should help. "Did it work, at least?"
"A little. Listen, kid. I'm not an asshole. I'm not trying to scare you and make you piss your pants. I'm here to have a nice dinner with a potential intern. Intern, you hear me? Nothing life-changing."
"And I understand 100%. I'm just doing my best to fight for this. I want it more than anything."
He raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"
I'll see you later tonight, Forrest. "Anything."
A waitress took our order and I stuck by a salad and water, as my pockets weren't nearly as full as his. He laughed and waved me off, ordering two of what he was taking instead. His order was more expensive than my suit, but I wasn't complaining. Our conversation revolved around his most famous buildings and his different ways to accommodate the clients all while imposing his ideas.
He sipped on his wine, "you do realize our company's headquarters is in New York, right?"
"Yes, I do." Unfortunately.
"You'll have to move there, of course, Nicolas. Move your whole life for this job. Make it your life. Would that be a problem?"
He was testing me, and I knew it. A hint of hesitation and he'd discard any thought of hiring me. "Not at all," I didn't miss a beat. "I've told you this before, Mr. Kleinfeld. I would give my all for this. I will work jobs on the side to afford the life there. I am prepared to start all over in a lower lifestyle to afford the one I aim for."
"It's just an internship, kid," his eyes were gentler now, less menacing. "Not a job."
"No, sir," I wiped my mouth with a napkin and hoped that my determination was clear. "It may not be a job now, but I have no doubt it will be."
Mr. Kleinfeld laughed. "I like your confidence, Nicolas," he paid the check and got up. I did the same, and he offered his hand to shake. "It's yours. If it turns into a job, check's on you next time."
I felt like every part of me was smiling. "Thank you, sir."
"I'll see you on the first of June."
Once he left and I had suppressed my overflowing gratitude, I stepped out and stood in front of the restaurant for half an hour. I had a few months before leaving, this gave me enough time to discuss this with Zoey and to break the news to Adrian. The latter would need more preparation; his breakup with Jessie made him vulnerable and heartbroken. He would need nights out to heal, then that talk would come.
As for Zoey-I did not want to think about how any of it would go.
She left me a voicemail. A child-like fear did not want to hear her voice, it would remind me of her look of hesitance at my confession. She knew I loved her from the first time I saw her again, I had no doubt about that. It was as if the universe was plotting against us, toying with our happiness.
As soon as we were happy together, fate laughed and said: "Wait until you see what I have stored for you."
The man who loved her would overcome his fear and listen to her voice, take in every moment with her and fix the mistakes of the past. I would have to love her with no boundaries until I left, but first: I would have to step up and tell her where the job was. I was a coward at 17, and I didn't want to relive the past that broke too many hearts and crushed too many loves.
I decided to call her instead, directly talking to her would surely alleviate the weight settling on my chest. She picked up on the second ring.
"Zoey?"
"..."
"Hello?"
Deep sobbing and sniffling. Sound of my heart breaking. "I-Oh God."
"Zoey, what's happened? What's going on?"
"..."
"Zoey. Are you okay? What happened? Where are you?"
Line goes silent.
If any joy had been hovering in my mind, it dissipated completely. Images of her kidnapped or scared, alone were filling my brain. Levels of fear rose in my brain slowly, cutting off any circulation. I called Adrian, Jessie and Camila, all supposed to be with her tonight, and got no answer.
Impatient and sick with a newfound anxiety, I got in the first taxi and absentmindedly gave him way more than the drive needed. I stepped out of the cab near her apartment and got no response after frantic knocking on the door. As Elisa was a mere run away, I sped walk to the end of the street and my worries were solidifying as a big crowd gathered around a source of smoke.
A few moments of stuffy air and frantic shoving later, I found her.
Crouched in Adrian's arms, sobs shaking her body completely. Jessie stood at her side, as a statue. Camila was talking to her, but it seemed to be evaporating up in the air.
Elisa was engulfed in a fire, the sign blurring away slowly. Firefighters hosed down the fire before it did any extensive damage to the neighboring stores. At the end of the night, all that remained of Elisa was the pink E of the sigh and charred glass.
If only I had known hours ago that the hands of the artist who painted my heart in my chest was a few miles away, watching her world go up in flames.
-
sOOOOO.
I realize that this chapter, compared to the previous ones, aren't quite a match WORD QUALITY wise, but I'm slowly coming back to writing after putting it aside for a full year so i tried to make up for it with the best cliffhanger yet????
how are you feeling?
I feel great. :)
#sorrynotsorry
#zico
#ZicoThursdays
love, yas