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SONG FOR THE CHAPTER
❝ We Found Each Other In The Dark ❞ by City and Colour
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Eventually, I find myself at The Gray Coastline. When my feet reach the soft sand of the seashore, I know that the worst is over. Quite frankly, The Gray Coastline always offers me such comfort. The crisp breeze and the salty fragrance of the ocean waft around me - the weather is perfect. The calm waves of the ocean are mesmerizing and the tides are gently billowing into the beach. While gazing into the sunrise over the glorious horizon, the low hum of the surf brings me peace.
Then suddenly, somewhere in the distance, I discover the faint silhouette of a person wandering alone on The Gray Coastline... I squint my eyes and peer across the beach to see the company. Surely enough, it's none other than Casper enjoying a leisurely stroll along the seashore.
As I slowly begin to approach Casper, the winsome smile upon his face becomes more visible. With his mouth bent into an endearing little grin, Casper then forms a warmhearted expression. His curly hair is the typical tangled mess and the loose ringlets bounce during his movements. His adorable dimples have emerged upon his cheeks and they further adorn his charming grin. His subtle freckles are dancing across his skin that blossom with the color of springtime roses. However, it's his emerald green eyes that sparkle underneath the sunshine that I love the most.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey," I respond.
The moment isn't as awkward as it should be - considering what had happened last night. However, there is something rather comfortable between us instead - I feel safe with Casper. Somehow I can appreciate that we are never upset with one another for long. Life is too short. And I think Casper knows that. Therefore, somewhere within his tender and precious smile, there is something that tells me that everything will be okay - and I admire that very much.
Casper gazes upon me fondly and then chuckles somewhat, "Fancy meeting you here."
"Quite..." I murmur under my breath, "This might be a rather nice coincidence for once."
He tilts his head to the side curiously, "To what do I owe the pleasure, fair maiden?"
I respond with an inward smile, "The pleasure is all mine..."
Casper and I continue to wander along The Gray Coastline and our friendly conversation carries on like the breeze. I tell him about last night and he listens. I tell him about today and he listens some more. Yes, I think everything is okay now. It just feels good to be with Casper again.
However, I'm quite far from better. I would say that I am safe for now - from melancholy and vulnerability - but just as the fading sunset eventually passes, so does everything else in this life. I have learned that everything is only temporary - I know that much - I'm just simultaneously learning to accept that. I feel true happiness when I am with Casper and that is enough for now.
Our conversation becomes delicate silence and I continue to wallow in sunshine and nostalgia. When I begin to ponder further, Casper notices that I'm quiet - and even more so than usual. Therefore, when he glimpses over at me, his eyebrows furrow with concern.
"Are you okay?" he asks me.
"Sometimes..." I answer him.
I once thought part of me had always secretly hoped that Casper would look at me and see the girl which I hid so well. However, the very moment I gaze into his eyes, I realize something else instead. When Casper looks at me, he looks at me like there is something there worth looking at.
I glance at him, "Can I ask you something?"
He nods his head, "Always."
"Do you remember when you said there's a difference between being alone and being lonely?"
He nods his head once again, "Of course."
"I like to be alone..." I pause for a moment, "But I would rather be alone with you."
"Do you mean that?"
"Yeah..." I respond with an inward smile, "I think I have finally realized that when I'm alone, there is a part of me that feels lonely because I have yet to learn to enjoy my own company. However, when we are together, I am neither."
His eyebrows furrow with confusion, "I don't understand."
I gaze upon him and then declare, "I feel much more me when I'm with you."
The corners of his mouth bend upwards until his freckled cheeks dimple and then he smiles with such honesty. He forms a kind and tender expression that reassures me of his understanding. Perhaps he just might feel the same.
Casper muses on something for a moment before he says, "Can I take you somewhere?"
"Another one of your infamous surprises?"
"Not exactly," he begins to wander in the other direction, "C'mon, let's go."
"Where?"
He grins, "There are some people I want you to meet."
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After a while, we arrive at our destination - a small yellow house on the top of a dandelion hill. The scenery is beautiful - plants grow and wildflowers bloom across the verdant terrain whereas the house itself is rather plain and simple... but I think that's what I like about it.
The paint is old and chipped, but it gives the house a certain rustic charm. The windows aren't polished and the lawn isn't mowed, but there is still something quite endearing about the small yellow house on top of a dandelion hill.
Casper forms a winsome smile and then says, "Welcome to my home..."
My eyes widen with surprise, "You live here?"
"Yeah," he shrugs his shoulders, "I want you to meet my family."
"Really?"
"Yeah... I think it's about time that you did, don't you?"
"Umm..."
"Is something wrong?"
"No! It's just-"
"What?"
I look away and then frown, "What if they don't like me?"
He cracks another smile and chuckles somewhat, "Of course, they will..." he assures me, "Besides, I like you... and that's all that matters."
Casper opens the front door and then I follow him inside. The home is quaint and charming. With faint curiosity, I look around. There are potted plants, vintage decor, and several paintings. The walls are covered with various forms of artwork, pictures, framed photographs and whatnot. The interior designer must have been very much inspired by the thought of friends and family.
The home is very cozy and comfortable from the earth-toned furniture to the retro decorations. The environment feels safe and snug and I'm comforted by the calming energy within the home. The house is rather warm and welcoming... I like it here.
"Your house is really nice..." I tell Casper while complimenting his home.
"Thanks," he returns.
"Where is everyone?"
"Probably in the kitchen," he says, "It's about the time my mom makes afternoon waffles."
"I thought only Aunt Fiona made those at The Lighthouse Diner."
"Where do you think she got the recipe?" he winks at me, "It's kind of a family tradition."
I continue to follow Casper as we enter the next room. Much to my surprise, his entire family is relaxing in the area which is comprised of your typical kitchenette and a small office parlor. Casper nudges me further into the room and then announces our arrival.
"Hey guys," he greets casually.
"Hey, Cas." Logan responds while walking by, "Good to see ya, Chloe."
"Thanks, you too," I reply.
"Mom! Have you seen my phone charger?" someone abruptly shouts, "Oh! Sup, Chloe."
I snort with wry amusement, "Hey, Austin."
"Did you check inside the desk?" his mother replies.
"Yes, of course."
"Is that so?" she opens the drawer to the desk, "Then why is it right here?"
Austin rolls his eyes with disdain, "Everything magically appears when your mom looks for it..."
I chuckle under my breath and then glance over my shoulder. When I catch a glimpse of Casper's mom, I look at her for a moment. She seems laid-back and rather young. With her playful smirk and whimsical demeanor, she seems fun and friendly - nevertheless, not your typical mom.
Her brunette hair is shoulder-length and disheveled. The tousled appearance makes me think she has just rolled out of bed, whereas her short, messy curls very much remind me of Casper. Her casual attire consists of a baggy grey sweatshirt, plaid pajama pants, and fuzzy slippers. Although it's nearly the afternoon, I suppose she just likes to be comfortable...
I like how down-to-earth she appears. She has large reading glasses, chipped nail polish, and the somewhat drowsy expression upon her face seems as if she's in desperate need of more coffee. While sitting at her desk that is littered with various papers and empty mugs, she looks at me.
"Hey! You must be Chloe," she mentions with a grin, "It's nice to finally meet you."
"Likewise, Mrs. Collins."
"Oh, may we please skip the formalities?" she shakes her head with disbelief and then chuckles, "You certainly don't have to refer to me as Mrs. Collins... Daisy or Mrs. Daisy is just fine!"
"Okay."
"Casper doesn't bring around too many friends," she admits, "Sometimes I wonder if we embarrass him, ha-ha!" she smiles softly, "But he brought you around, so you must be special."
I glance at Casper and he blushes. I would have never thought that I was that special to Casper. Surely, we are good friends now - but for him to introduce me to his mom must be something. Especially if this occurrence is as uncommon as Mrs. Daisy says it is. I'm not sure what to think.
"Casper is the special one," I confess timidly, "I guess I'm just lucky."
"Nonsense..." she says, "I've heard great things about you."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Austin chimes in, "Casper can't seem to shut up about your big, beautiful blue eyes!"
"Thanks a lot, dude..." groans Casper.
Logan slaps Austin on the back of the head, "Why do you have to be such a jerk?"
"Why do you have to be such a nincompoop that ate all my cereal this morning?" he retorts.
"No, I didn't!"
"Yes, you did!"
"Hey, knock it off!" their mom snaps, "I can't even hear myself think."
"What are you doing, mom?" asks Casper.
"I'm trying to work... Emphasis on the try," she rolls her eyes, "But it's pretty hard to get anything done around here when these two morons won't stop arguing with each other."
"What's your job, Mrs. Daisy?" I inquire politely, "If you don't mind me asking."
"I'm a writer," she answers, "Essentially..."
"A good one at that!" Casper continues, "But she likes to remain humble."
"I'm just a lowly pencil-pusher..." she claims with a heavy sigh, "A mere potboiler that seldom writes anything of creative value or much substance and instead must typically write lowbrow articles and reams of mass-market gobbledygook."
"Mom is a published author and songwriter," adds Logan.
"Yeah, she really has a way with words," compliments Austin.
I glimpse over at Casper, "Must be hereditary..."
Mrs. Daisy grins and then proceeds to tell me a nostalgic story, "Casper has always loved music. He taught himself to play guitar. He wanted to write his own songs when he was only 7 years old. He couldn't spell anything very well, so I would help him write his lyrics sometimes."
"I guess you could say that I got my creativity from you, mom..." he commends.
"What am I? Chopped liver?" I suddenly overhear.
I turn around and then catch a glimpse of a young man with a rather winsome smirk on his face. The man enters the room - hands inside his pockets - and then seats himself at the kitchen table. He seems cordial and relaxed, whereas his appearance seems sophisticated yet casual.
The man wears a nice dress shirt, but the tie is loosened and the collar buttons are undone. The man also wears nice trousers, but they aren't ironed and there are wrinkles around the pockets. His cuffs are open, his sleeves are rolled up around the elbow, and his shoes aren't polished.
It's rather strange - the man is very poised and suave - with the exception of his scruffy nine o'clock shadow and ungroomed dirty blonde hair. He appears as if he might work at an office, but then again, his quirky mannerisms seem like he's too fun to work a boring old desk job.
The man is quite mellow. He looks at me and smiles. Then he introduces himself with a gentle voice and a soft expression, "Hello there..." he says, "I'm Felix."
I respond timorously, "Hi... I'm Chloe."
Although my voice is not nearly more than a whisper, he is very calm and patient with me. "Ahh... Chloe," he muses for a moment, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"Thanks."
Then he walks over to Mrs. Daisy and plops a small kiss on her forehead, "Hey, honey. How's the article going?"
"It's going..." she replies.
"In other words?"
"Let's just say that my writer's block is insufferable..." she groans while raking her fingers through her tangled hair.
Mr. Felix chuckles somewhat, "You'll figure it out," he kisses her again, "You always do."
Casper makes a brief comment, "We were just telling Chloe about mom and her job."
He nods, "Ah, yes... I just so happened to overhear."
"You mean eavesdrop?" Austin remarks snidely.
Mr. Felix cracks a joke, "Did you forget to mention that I'm her muse?"
"Don't flatter yourself," Mrs. Daisy retorts.
"Our youth is fleeting but our souls are just meeting..." Mr. Felix looks at me and then winks, "She wrote that one about me."
My eyes widen and I gasp, "I've heard that song on the radio!"
"And you've probably heard more," Logan begins, "Mom has tons of famous lyrics."
"That's awesome!" I look at Mr. Felix, "Are you a writer too?"
"Not exactly," he answers, "You see, I'm a-"
Suddenly, the conversation is interrupted when 3 dogs abruptly stampede into the kitchen. Austin roars with laughter and shouts, "Lunchtime!"
"Oh, it is lunchtime isn't it?" Mrs. Daisy says, "I must've forgotten! I've been so busy with work."
"Afternoon Waffles?" Casper asks.
"Afternoon Waffles." Mrs. Daisy confirms.
While Mrs. Daisy begins making the Afternoon Waffles, I become acquainted with all the dogs. They scamper around the house causing a ruckus. The dogs run and jump and wag their tails. Casper places their food bowls on the ground to feed them and then introduces us.
"This is Pumpkin," he mentions while cooing over a bashful dog with fluffy orange fur. Then Casper begins rubbing the belly of a hyper dog with curly yellow fur, "And this is Noodle."
"Aww... They're adorable!" I enthuse with an inward smile. When I notice another dog sitting alone in the corner with a nonchalant facial expression, my eyebrows furrow, "Who's that?"
"Oh, that's Kevin."
I pause for a moment and then respond incredulously, "Kevin?"
"Yup," he confirms.
I look at Casper and then I look at Kevin... What a strange name for a dog. While mulling over the fact that the Collins gave their pet something that would typically be considered a human name, I feel something small and soft brush against the back of my leg. I turn around and look down. That is when I meet a black cat... How many pets does Casper have? The Collins have a zoo!
When the cat purrs, Casper smiles, "Mr. Pickles has apparently taken quite the liking to you!"
I arch an eyebrow, "Why is he named Mr. Pickles?"
"He was a stray before we rescued him," Casper narrates, "When I was a kid, sometimes I would feed him the pickles from my sandwiches and I think that's why he kept coming back to me."
"The Afternoon Waffles are ready!" announces Mrs. Daisy.
Casper grins with excitement and jumps into the kitchen. When he sits down at the table, Mrs. Daisy places the warm plate of Afternoon Waffles in front of him. Casper takes the first bite of his favorite food and then smiles like the morning sun.
"Thanks, mom," he says.
"You're welcome, honey," she replies and ruffles the curls on his head.
After Casper has finished eating the Afternoon Waffles, he invites me to hang out in his bedroom. For the entire journey upstairs, I strive to remain calm. I don't understand why I am so nervous, but I think it's because I don't know what to expect. I have never been in Casper's room before. What is about to happen? Is Casper going to show me his personal belongings and whatnot? This moment is rather intimate and newfangled.
Casper opens the door to his bedroom and I enter as if it were a museum. I look around at each and every object. Strangely enough, it's exactly as I would have imagined his room to look. There are music posters and artwork on the walls, bookshelves brimmed with hardback novels and miscellaneous knick-knacks, and his acoustic guitar perched on a stand in the corner.
"Your room is really cool," I compliment briefly.
"Thanks," he replies.
It's rather odd - his room smells like the ocean. His window is cracked opened and that has allowed the fragrance of nature and the nearby beach to permeate the air. If I close my eyes and listen hard enough, I can almost hear the waves crashing into the shore. Casper is lucky that his house resides so close to the seashore.
His bedroom is warm and welcoming - cozy and comfy - I feel safe here. Although the room is rather small, it's snug. This is the kind of space where you would nestle into bed and read a good book or have an epic late-night Netflix movie marathon.
I continue to observe. There are various plants and candles that bring warmth to the room. There is also an impressive collection of vintage vinyl for his record player and more plants. Casper keeps the place tidy and clean, despite the music CDs that are scattered across the floor.
After admiring all the details of his room, something in particular grabs my attention. Quite frankly, I notice that I did not notice the collection of terrarium tanks in the bedroom corner. When I approach the tanks, Casper introduces me to his cute little companions.
"This is my turtle," he says with a smile, "Her name is Shelly."
"That's very endearing."
"I also have two snakes," he continues, "William Snakespeare and Mrs. Wiggles."
"How delightful."
"These are my lizards Godzilla and Geico."
"Charming."
"And last but certainly not least, my hamsters, Gus and Charlie," he pauses for a moment, "Charlie was supposed to be a boy... But I found out he was a girl when he gave birth last year."
I stifle my laughter before I make a surprised remark, "You have a whole zoo in here!"
He nods his head, "Indeed."
I continue to look around Casper's bedroom, "Not to mention a rather impressive library."
"Ha, thanks!" he replies.
I wander over to his bookshelf and then sift through all the hardback novels. Much to my surprise, there is an abundance of books by Ernest Hemingway - just as Casper had implied. While I peruse through his library, something, in particular, stands out to me.
I select a thick book made of brown leather and bound with string, "What's this?"
"My family photo album," he answers.
I look at Casper and hesitate, "Can I look through it?" I ask him carefully.
His brows crease together with contemplation when he mulls over the answer. Casper dithers for a moment and seems rather ambivalent. I begin to feel guilty... I honestly didn't mean to pry. That must have been quite nosy of me.
I frown somewhat, "My bad... I shouldn't have asked."
"No... It's okay," he assures me.
"It's just..." my words fracture and then I tell him, "I've never had a family photo album."
"Really?" he cocks his head, "Why not?"
I bite my tongue and decide not to bore Casper with the sob story of my depressing childhood. That wouldn't be fair... I don't want to confess anything that might dismay him and I certainly don't want to tell him about my tragic experiences within the foster care system. The truth is just that simple: it's hard to have a family photo album when you have never had an actual family.
I hand him the book, "It's a long story."
He nods, "I understand..." then he returns the book to me, "Here."
"What?"
"You can look through it."
"I can?"
"Yeah," he shrugs his shoulders and then cracks a half-smile, "If you'd like to."
"Thanks."
I open the photo album ever so slowly and then look at all the photos from Casper's childhood. There are pictures of him as a baby - chubby cheeks and curly hair - which is rather adorable. There are pictures of him as a kid - lanky legs and curly hair - which is also rather adorable. Apparently, Casper has always had that tangled mop of messy ringlets on top of his head.
I admire each and every photo - the beauty of capturing the moment - the wide, genuine smiles. These aren't just pictures, they are moments captured in time like summertime fireflies in jars. These are his memories... and Casper has decided to share them with me.
"Is this you?" I ask him, pointing to a picture of a little boy building a sandcastle on the beach.
He chuckles, "Sure is."
"And this?"
"Ah, yes... The first day of middle school," he looks at the photo, "I've always been such a gawky and gangly little thing."
I continue flipping through the pages and then stop on a particular photo with someone I didn't quite recognize, "Who's this?" I question him, staring at the tall man with curly brown hair.
He hesitates for a moment and then says, "My dad..."
My eyebrows furrow with confusion, "What?"
He sighs, "Yeah, that's my biological dad."
I take a second to process what he just said. However, now that I think about it, Casper doesn't look anything like Mr. Felix. I guess I didn't notice at first. But I would have never assumed that they weren't related. Although I'm curious, I refrain from prying any further than I already have.
Casper continues, "His name is Wyatt."
I attempt to remain calm and not seem invasive. I don't want to be awkward or offend him. Therefore, I just decide to ask him a simple question "Are you still close with him?"
He shrugs, "Not exactly."
"Where is he now?"
"I wouldn't know..." says Casper, "He left us when I was just a toddler."
"Us?"
"Me and my mom," he explains quietly, "I guess I had a fairly decent life during my childhood... My mom and my biological dad had me when they were both very young. My mom was only 16 when she had me."
I find another picture in the photo album. It appears as if it's Mrs. Daisy when she was a teenager. There is someone next to her and oddly enough, I think I recognize them, "Is that Aunt Fiona?"
"Yup."
"Are they at The Lighthouse Diner?"
"My mom and Aunt Fiona worked at the diner to make money to support me while I was a baby," he forms a weak smile, "Mom raised me by herself until I was 5."
I admire the wedding photo of Mrs. Daisy and Mr. Felix. They look so happy. I glimpse at Casper again, "When did they meet?"
"Around the time Wyatt left, so I must have been about 5 or 6. They met at the art gallery in North Valley. When they got married, that's when Austin and Logan became my brothers."
"So they're your half brothers?"
"Yeah..." he snorts, "But we love and fight like blood brothers."
It's that very moment that I turn a page of the book and find one significant photo in particular, "Who's this?" I ask curiously.
"Elliot..." he answers, "My little sister."
"You have a little sister?"
Casper pauses for a moment and then says, "Had..."
Then suddenly, it's as if I forgot how to breathe. My heart sinks into my gut and I feel this utterly unbearable urge to cry. I look at Casper and he looks at me. There is a moment of silence...
He frowns, "I miss her..."
"Casper..." I'm struggling to find the words, "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"No..." he insists, "I want to talk about her."
"Okay."
Casper forms a wistful smile and then begins to tell me everything about his little sister Elliot, "When Elliot was born, it changed everything... We had always been a family, but we finally felt complete. She brought so much joy and purpose into our lives. Everything just made sense..."
I nod my head and he continues, "When I was 12 and Elliot was 6, I taught her how to ride a bike. We would spend our days riding bikes down to The Gray Coastline and eating Afternoon Waffles.
However, my favorite memory with Elliot was during Halloween when we dressed up as Mermaidman and Barnacle Boy and we ate so much candy that we got stomach aches."
I gaze into his eyes and then ask, "What happened?"
"On Elliot's 10th birthday, my mom and dad and I were driving back home from the beach..." Casper stops and his voice breaks and he says, "That's when we were in a car accident."
I cover my mouth and stifle a gasp. I can feel the very beat of my heart come to a stop and I try to keep myself from bursting into tears. No... He can't see me cry. Not now.
Casper is frail and weak and scared and vulnerable but he continues, "Elliot died in the crash... My dad blames himself for Elliot's death because he was driving.
Elliot wanted to go get ice-cream but he refused. My dad thinks that if he would've changed his mind and went in the direction to get ice-cream, we would have never gotten into the accident.
His guilt caused him to become depressed and our entire family suffered from Elliot's death. However, the only person who wasn't broken was me."
"How so?"
"I recall the huge smile on her face seconds before she died..." he tells me, "That night made me realize that this life just doesn't deserve to be lived unhappily because anything can happen. This life is too short and it must be lived to the fullest.
I know without a doubt that Elliot had the happiest childhood someone could even dream of and she passed away with sand in her hair and love in her heart."
I smile inwardly, "That's much more than most people can say about themselves."
Casper looks at me - intently, earnestly, profoundly. He smiles at me - softly, gently, tenderly. Then he utters these very words, "I hope there are days where you fall in love with being alive."
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After a while had passed, Casper and I drift away like the wind into another deep conversation. He tells me more about his family and even cracks a few jokes. It amazes me how strong he is. Then out of the blue, he asks me a question, "Can I give you something?"
I nod my head, "Sure."
Casper stands up and retrieves something from his bookshelf. When he returns, he holds the item secretly in his hands, "Do you remember that day in the meadow where we made wishes upon the dandelions?"
I nod my head once again, "Of course."
That is when he reveals the gift: a corked, glass vial containing dandelion seeds.
"It's a reminder of all your wishes," he states, "And if you ever need to make an emergency wish, you can open the bottle and let them go."
"Thank you..." I tell him with glistening eyes, "It's wonderful."
"I'm glad you think so."
I ponder something for a moment and then ask, "Can I give you something in return?"
His eyebrows knit together, "What would that be?"
"Do you remember our first time in the meadow?"
"How could I forget?"
I reach into my backpack and remove something. Then I gift Casper the very thing that I never foresaw myself ever truly giving him. Casper slowly unfolds the paper and reveals the portrait drawing that I had made of him that special day we had our picnic in the meadow.
"You drew this?" he asks in disbelief.
"Yeah."
"And this is for me?"
"It is now."
He scrutinizes the photo with wide eyes. I had managed to draw each and every detail of Casper. The ringlets in his curly hair, the freckles upon his cheeks, and the twinkle in his eye. The portrait has a striking resemblance - there is no denying that the drawing is of him. I think we both agree.
Then suddenly, the door to Casper's bedroom opens, "Hey, bud... I was wondering-" Casper and I both veer around and meet Mr. Felix standing in the doorway, "Am I interrupting something?"
Casper rolls his eyes, "To say the least."
Mr. Felix cranes his neck and squints his eyes, "What's that?" he wonders aloud while approaching Casper.
"It's a portrait that Chloe drew of me," he answers, "Isn't it incredible?"
"Very..." he says thoughtfully, "I'm impressed. Your reputation precedes you, Chloe."
My eyes widen with surprise, "It does?"
"Casper mentioned that you were a great artist. However, he failed to mention how great."
"Wow..." I'm at a loss for words but manage to reply, "Um, thanks."
He takes the drawing and scrutinizes it - twisting and turning the paper as if it were a cabbage at the grocery store that he might buy. He minds all the details and even traces his index finger along the pencil strokes. He seems completely fascinated.
"This is good, Chloe..." he tells me, "Like really good."
"I appreciate that."
"She's never shown anyone her artwork," Casper blurts.
"You don't say?" he glimpses at me, "Why not?"
I tuck my hair behind my ear bashfully, "I don't know."
Mr. Felix smirks and then he declares, "I want to show you something..."
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I return downstairs with Mr. Felix and we arrive at a door in the hallway, "Remember when you asked me what I do for a living?" he reminds me.
"Yeah?"
"I'm an artist..." he reveals.
When he opens the door, to say that I'm blown away would be an understatement. The entire room is a massive art studio - adorned with everything from paintings, to easels, to shelves brimmed with art supplies. I marvel at the entire room with shock and awe. I'm rendered speechless; the very sight of his personal studio took my breath away.
As I approach an easel with a blank canvas, Mr. Felix hands me a paintbrush, "Here..." he says, "Paint something."
"What?"
"You heard me."
I hesitate for a moment, "I- I- I can't..." I stammer nervously.
He arches an eyebrow, "Why not?"
I reflect on the day at Rainbow Cove with Casper and then frown, "I just can't."
He smiles at me, "I think you can."
"It's not that I don't want to. I love painting, it's just-"
"Just what?"
I think hard about what I'm about to say next, "It hurts..."
His smile softens. Then he leans in closer towards me with his voice no more than a whisper, "Then paint about what hurts."
"How?"
"That's the beauty of painting, is it not?" he poses, "That there is no how... just is."
"I don't understand."
"You will."
I'm rather fraught when I form a frown, "What if it's more complicated than that? What if it hurts only because it doesn't?"
He chuckles slightly, "Now I'm the one that doesn't understand."
"I'm not trying to speak in riddles," I assure him, "I barely understand myself. Hence why I'm not very good at articulating things all the time. It's just that I used to love painting so much and now I don't - and I hate that I don't. I hate that it hurts. And I just want to be able to pick up a paintbrush again and not want to disappear...
I sigh heavily, "What I'm trying to say, is that there are some things that hurt because I love them so much."
I look at Mr. Felix and he looks at me. I prepare myself for what he's about to say. However, he says nothing. Instead, he smiles one last time and then begins to exit the room. I'm not sure why he didn't have an answer to my question, but perhaps I just answered it for myself.
I stare at the brush and the blank canvas in front of me and before Mr. Felix departs, I catch his attention to ask him a final question, "Why do you paint?"
He turns around and looks over his shoulder, "Sometimes words can't express feelings..."
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《 Published October 17th, 2020 》
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