August 9A Chapter by Calypso
I stopped by Belle’s office before going to the office. I even carried my suitcase to her office. I was dressed up with my camera around my neck. The new assignment in photography left me hungry for a great photo.
Mr. Cooper wants us to capture ‘domestic nature’ or in short house plants. I know we don’t have any house plants so I wanted to make a stop by Belle’s before leaving.
Her door was open so after knocking on her wall, sat my suitcase by the door and walked in.
“How are you Aelge?”
“Great. Thanks for asking.” I walked out of the door way and into her office. I held up my camera. “Can I take some photos of your plants?”
“What’s it for?”
I walked over to her window seal and aimed towards the plants sitting dangerously close to the edge. After a few quick photos of the Ivy I turned to the three purple and pink African violets.
Belle had wheeled her chair over the edge of her desk watching patiently. I could tell she was curious, but I didn’t bother to start a conversation.
“So where you going from now?”
I lowered my camera and as a spoke I looked through the photos I had just taken. “I should be in the office waiting for Dad.”
“Is there anything wrong?” She said genially.
“Nothing is wrong.”
Belle sat back into her seat. “Well when you come back and we’ll have coffee sometime next week. Also I’ll work on that referral for you.”
I nodded slightly.
By three in the afternoon I was home and lying on my bed. Dad had thought I was sick, but as I told him many times I was fine.
Under my bed I keep a pile of vampire books. I have torn the covers off and taped construction paper onto the spine of the book. Dad has never been too happy with me reading these types of books.
After digging threw the book I picked up the one I wanted. It had a little mark on the edge of the first page. I placed that there to remind me what book it was. In my mind I kept an on going catalog of the marks. The mark was a star with the top tip filled in. This told me it was Club Dead by Charlaine Harris.
Dad had to go visit some people in the nursing home so while he was gone I made a mess of the house.
During some point I wanted to paint so after digging through my closet I found a bag full of oil paints brushes. The brushes once belonged to Morana.
I handled the brushes carefully. There felt rough around the middle part of them.
It became evident early on that Morana had a gift for art. During her life she would never agree with that statement, but she did passively. She would never forfeit the chance to show her artwork off at shows. Swimming may have been her main passion in life, but art was a talent.
I can remember the day Mom bough Morana these brushes. Mom was off of work because of termites and we where off of school because it was summer.
She called it ‘girl's day’. It began with gelatos and cold cuts at a deli a mile from home and it ended with me making a fit in the craft store.
Mom had made a deal with Morana earlier in the week. Normally Morana’s room lookeed trashed, but if she kept it clean for a week then she would buy her new brushes.
Near the back was a large kiosk with brushes in different length, width and shapes. Morana spent ten minutes looking at them and Mom had tried to distract me for the time being.
Sadly for her I had slipped out of her view and watched Morana pay for the brushes. I screamed forever, or that was what my mother thought.
When Dad came home she told him what happened over dinner and I ended up being spanked.
Apparently Mom felt sorry for me because she came into my room afterwards and lied in bed with me until I stopped crying.
The held the wooden brushes tightly until my knuckles whet white. Looking at them now reminds me of all I've lost and I wish I could burn them but instead I picked up the bag of paint and set up shop in the kitchen.
Once in there I pulled a sheet of paper out of the printer and began to paint.
I could feel every emotion bleed onto the paper. The paper its self became too wet to dry properly, but I keep applying the paint.
I was packing up the paint supplies into the bag when Dad came home.
“Hay Aelge.” He took his boots off by the door but paused when he saw the now wrinkled up paper. “What did you do while I was gone?”
“I found Morana’s painting supplies in my closet. I decided to take a go at it.”
Dad walked over the table and picked up the picture. “It looks like you enjoyed doing it.”
I nodded softly. “I guess so.” After pulling myself up onto the counter I genially took it from him to look at it more.
Dad started to brew some coffee and I was wondering about something.
“Did you place her supplies into my closet?”
Dad took two coffee cups from the cabinet and passively answered, “A few years ago I moved some things around in Morana’s room. I had taken that bag out of her closet and afterwards I had no space to put it so I put it in your room.” He handed me a steaming cup of coffee. “If I remember right you haven’t been in her room since her suicide.”
I tried to avoid the question by slurping the coffee loudly. I only burned the roof of my mouth and esophagus.
I wanted to tell him that there is no way I would be able to adventure into that room after what happened five years. I my self wondered how he could walk into that room without crying uncontrollably.
Dad gave me a quick buss on the forehead and left with the newspaper tucked under his arm.
He was right I haven’t been in Morana’s room since she died.
I picked up the bag and threw it over my shoulder. I felt like someone who was in something for the long haul.
As soon as I came a few steps near her door my chest tightened and I had to place the bag by me.I didn’t dare open the door but instead I shoved the painting under the door and whispered, “I hope you enjoy it Morana.”
© 2012 Calypso
A Forgiver in Ivory
AboutYou Are 91% Creative You are an incredibly creative person. For you, there are no bounds or limits to your creativity. Your next creation could be something very great... Or at least.. more..
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