I stretched my sleepy limbs as I tried to remember where I was. Strangely enough, I had almost forgotten my old bedroom. It was small but tastefully decorated. Paintings and ornaments hanging everywhere. There was an old, used curtain, partly eaten from the clothes moths. In the left corner of the room was the bed, which was standing there since I was in high school. Next to the bed was a wooden desk that was weakening under a heavy weight of different art supplies. There were oil paints, canvas, brushes and materials everywhere. Illustrations and sketches were lying all over the floor, occupying the only chair in the room making it impossible to sit. There was also a single cupboard, but there was no use in trying to open that.
My room was a hot mess.
Walls were painted with a light green color, which was barely seen under a large display of the artistry. Well yes, I was a bit messy, but that was excusable for an artist, or at least I hoped it was. I wasn't a lazy person, but there simply wasn't enough space in the room to put neatly every piece of equipment on. As far as I could find everything where I've put it, I was satisfied.
I threw on a t-shirt and the first pair of jeans I could find in a closet. I brushed my hair in a messy bun on the top of my head and called myself ready for a new day. It must have been still very early in the morning, considering I heard the muffled clanging of pots in the kitchen. There must have been a coffee brewing on the stove because the smell of it was wonderfully inviting. My parents were getting ready for work. Since they didn't open the store until seven o'clock, I guessed it was probably around six in the morning.
I pushed the bed covers and walked towards the magnificent smell.
"Already up?" Father stopped scrambling eggs and looked at me. "You were exhausted yesterday evening, weren't you? Why are you up so early?"
"Well father, I believe you know me too well. I simply cannot sleep when my mind is bursting with so many fresh ideas. I have to start to paint."
"Now?" He couldn't believe what I was saying.
"Now." I confirmed.
"Look at her, husband, like mother like daughter." Ivana smiled sweetly. "I appreciate your enthusiasm and hard work, but at least have something to eat." Mother pushed a cup of steaming hot coffee right under my nose.
"Like I could refuse that." I rolled my eyes with the first sip I took. "Delicious." I hummed.
I grabbed the fresh croissant from the plate and wolfed the pastry down. "As much I would appreciate a good chatter and catching up, I have to start. I hope to finish the sketches today, so I could show you the concept." I put the last bite in my mouth. Pushing the chair away I hurried to my room to collect all I needed.
"So eager, wife." Boris hugged the love of his life. "Exactly like you."
"There is a very promising season ahead of us Boris." She said to her husband as they were quietly finishing up the breakfast.
"I sure do hope so, Ivana." Boris looked into her eyes and patted her hand. He was worried not just about their business, but also about her. The weight she was carrying on her shoulders was too heavy, he was way too dependent on her. Counting on her that she will somehow keep their heads above the crushing tide.
I started carefully collecting all the stuff I needed from my room and backpack. I dreamily looked through the window, on the awakening street. Sun was already rising on the mostly cloudy sky, its beaming light gently reflecting on the calm surface of the sea. Seagulls were gathering on the nearby pear while they hungrily lurked on fish. They were already annoying the returning fishermen with their persistent pursuit of the ships and loud calls. But all of this was like a sweet serenade to my ears. This was my hometown after all. I lifted the dusty old curtains and peeked over the first locals emerging from their homes, either to go to work or to catch fresh goods on the markets. Little children were already up and about to do some mischief.
I remembered what was like, when I was just a child. My dad always persisted and dragged me to fishing expeditions, trying to wake a spark of enthusiasm in me. It never really worked, especially when I had the first glimpse of my mother's work. From that day, I was bewitched. I remembered to this day how I watched her with wide-open, curious eyes, following her every move. I couldn't comprehend what kind of magic was she making with her bare hands, however, I made a vow to myself, that someday, somehow, I would be like her.
That didn't necessarily mean, I wouldn't enjoy the occasional trips to the see with my father. I adored him and loved spending time in his cheerful company. He had this precious way of making me feel happy and carefree. When I needed a few words of comfort, he was a person to go to. Nothing could be as bad when he was around, or at least I thought so when I was still a little child.
Mother was stricter, more resolute in her ways of parenting. It was all business with her when she was in her creating spirit. Ivana was absolutely unyielding as she tried to teach me everything she knew, share her dreams with me. And I was grateful to her for that. If she wasn't such a relentless teacher, I would have never become what I was today.
I was always somehow peculiar, different from other children of my age. When girls played with dolls, I had my brushes or I was simply running around the island chasing animals. Boys were more interesting, they carelessly ran around with holes in their pants and bumpy knees, never bothering to get dirty. However, I was too shy to ever befriend them or join them. I rather stayed in the background, quietly watching.
As I was getting older boys were noticing me, but I never really took any interest in them. They were always just good friends. In high school I became more outgoing, meeting girlfriends, which made my parents extremely happy. But most friendships were gone and over when I left my hometown, only a few of the strongest bonds still lasted.
I smiled as I thought of my two best friends, Lena and Mark.
Lena was a short brunette, with lush curves and full lips. I was a complete opposite of her. She was always loud and too opinionated. If you wanted an honest to heart opinion, she was the perfect one to go to. Rarely with a filter in her mouth, she could say the nastiest things and still get away with everything. It must have been her angel face and her Samaritan attitude. Even with her horrible mouth and manners she was a person who stood firm on the ground and was deeply protective of those she cared about.
Mark, on the other hand, was a geek to the core. Nobody could surpass this guy. He could have spent his entire life behind closed doors playing games, never leaving his fort. He would probably die of starvation or dehydration and never even notice the hunger or thirst. I remembered how I and Lena had to drag him out of his room to get some vitamin D when he first got his computer.
Where Lena was an outgoing, cynical person, he was a true wallflower. Mark was high, but a skinny person, towering above all of us. He had at least 6.4 feet while Lena was a good twenty-five inches shorter. I was somewhere in between those two, with my 5'7 feet.
What a colorful company we were. Mark was the quiet one in our small circle. He had mousy hair and ever overgrowing beard, too lazy to shave it off. He always wore thin, circular glasses that constantly ran down his nose.
What I've loved most about him were his kindness and sympathy. He was a shoulder to cry on, a true friend in every sense of the word. And he was hopelessly in love with Lena, who was too blind to take notice.
They were total opposites, so different from each other. I often wondered if their relationship would even work.
Sighing I thought of how much time had passed by since the last time I saw both of them. I knew Lena stayed home, helping her family with a busy restaurant they owned. And the last time I spoke with Mark was a six month ago. He was finishing a degree in graphic design on the opposite side of the country. He already finished internship in a prestigious advertising agency that was eager to hire him soon.
I've missed my friends and truly hoped they would both be here during the summer months. I made a mental note to call them later.
After grabbing my stuffed art pad I sat on the front porch. Sun rays were warming my face as I sipped my almost cold coffee.
I was so engrossed in the sketches I've barely noticed how high sun laid in the sky. I've made an astonishing progress and was eager to show the drawings to my mother. If she liked the ideas, I could start on the paintings right away.
As I stood to pick up my scattered drawings from the ground I felt a sudden dizziness overwhelming me. I clutched to the railings as I drew deep breaths to calm myself down. I was taken aback by the unexpected coldness radiating in my chest. My stomach was fighting to keep the breakfast down as I half-crawled to my bedroom. Relief washed over me when I finally lied down. I closed my eyes, a cold sweat breaking on my pale face. But just as fast the nauseous feeling appeared it was also gone.
It was confusing because I was rarely ever sick, blame it on the fresh air. Actually, I was never really sick. Even as a child I couldn't truly remember when was the last time I had the flu or at least cold. But I was a bit worried since I didn't exactly feel this the first time. I already felt sick once or twice while in college, but I never put too much thought into it.
"Korina!" Mother called somewhere in the house.
I snapped myself from my thoughts and leaped from the bed. I hurriedly gathered a disorganized mess of drawings on the floor and assessed myself in the rounded mirror that hung above the desk. I still looked slightly pale, but much better than before. I didn't want to exaggerate or falsely worry my mother. Grabbing the pad, I drew a few deep calming breaths and went in search of her. She carried a small grocery bag in one hand and a set of car keys in another. She as always wore one of her famous wide, flowery summer dresses that were drawn out to her ankles. The dress was hugging her waist just in the right way and was fastened with a small brown belt. Her wrists were decorated with numerous colorful bracelets that were jingling at her every move.
She definitely wasn't the person who would agree with the saying less is more. She looked more like a siren compared to other local women, even wearing little seashells braided in her hair.
"Yes, mother? I am right here, may I offer you a hand?" I stepped to her.
"You definitely may." Mother offered me a small smile as she gave me over her bag.
"I finished the concept of the paintings‒the sketches." I told her as I stacked produce in the fridge. I reminded myself that I would be definitely making a dinner tonight as I saw various sorts of vegetables in the bag.
"Already? Well, that was fast. How about we take a look?" Ivana set at the table, ready to review the progress I've made.
"Here." I carefully placed the sketches around the table "This is not the typical material we had in the past." I warned her.
Ivana put her reading glasses on as she looked at the drawings one by one. Her face remained carefully blank as she looked at me "They definitely are different. May I ask, where did you get the idea for all of this?" She inquired, pointing at the display before her.
"It is just something that came to my mind." I defensively held up my hands. "You don't like it." I stated.
"They are very beautiful." She assured me "But what is the story? I am rather curious." She traced the drawings with her fingers. "The woman on the sketches looks lonely, so melancholic. What happened to her?"
"She is haunted. Haunted by her memories, yearning for the life she will never have. She feels sadness for all the things she has lost, her friend, her only soulmate‒dead in the cold, icy sea. So she lost herself, aimlessly wandering through the empty streets, trying to find her absolution, her freedom. Sadness and grief made her heart cold and soulless, forever dead." I looked my mother dead in the eyes.
"That kind of love, have you felt it?" She watched me closely, inspecting me.
"No." I smiled "And you know what? I hope I never will. It must be suffocating, right?"
"Yes, I guess it must be." Mother whispered as she took a drawing of a ghastly woman wandering the streets.
"But do you believe, Korina?" Ivana asked me.
"Believe in what?"
"In soulmates." She said, her voice low, confidential.
I had to laugh at her question, letting out an almost choking sound.
"No, I really don't." I said.