A Stroke Of Paint On My Canvas

A Story by Kevi Grace

The mellow beat of the music reverberates in the wooden floorboards; I can feel the vibrations of the baseline beneath my feet. It tickles the underside of my toes, sending funny feelings shooting up the sides of my legs. I’m sure that the music’s volume is too loud. I know for a fact that my thin walls and my bedroom door aren’t blocking its sound from the rest of the house. I don’t care though. All I care about is this moment.

Everything feels wrong.

The room is too cold. The lights are too bright. My vision is too clear. Everything about this moment feels wrong. I try to push the feeling away. I try to focus my mind on other thoughts, but I can’t. The wrongness of the situation blares profoundly in my mind and I can’t help but recognize every detail that isn’t lining up exactly the way it should, the way that I know it needs to be.

Where is Caleb? Why isn’t he sitting on my bed like normal, leaning against the wall and watching while I paint? Why am I alone? Why can’t I hear my mother singing along to my music in the hallway outside? When did everything go to complete and utter crap?

My life didn’t use to be this s****y, did it? It wasn’t always this awful… I can remember a time when I was happy, a time when things were good. Why did that have to change? Why did everything have to become this way?

This isn’t right. This is wrong. This is all wrong. I shake my head, trying to push these thoughts out. I take a deep breath, grasping my paintbrush a little tighter in my hand.

A stroke of red paint on my canvas. Red Sunglasses.

"Retro,” Skylar commented appreciatively as I slid the red sunglasses onto the slim frame of my face. She placed her hands on my shoulders and turned me around to face the mirror. She smiled as she looked at my reflection. “Haley, you look hot.”

It was late in the afternoon and we had just walked to a vintage clothing shop only a few blocks away from our school. It was filled with old clothes and accessories, most of which seemed like they belonged inside of a hippie’s closet. It was exactly Skylar’s kind of place, though I didn’t feel like I belonged at all.

“I don’t know,” I said, reaching up to take them off. The glasses didn’t fit my face. The frames were round and much too large. They covered up most of my features. The red was too bright, contrasting harshly against my pale skin.

Skylar reached up to grab my hand, stopping me from taking them off. Glancing at her I could see that usual look of annoyance in her eyes. “Trust me. You need to get them. They’ll look great when we head to the party at Adam's tonight.” She looked me up and down, a smile on her face. "God, Hale… You're a babe. You'll be such a hit."

“Adam’s? That senior’s house?” I asked, my voice hesitant. “I thought we were just going to hang out at your place tonight. That’s what I told my mom.” I hated sounding like such a baby to Skylar, but I had never lied to my mother before. I wasn't sure I wanted to start now.

Skylar rolled her eyes, reaching over to grab an old ball cap sitting on a shelf. She placed it on her head and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. It barely fit over her thick, black hair. Frowning, she rotated the cap sideways before she turned to face me again.

“Don’t be such a baby, Haley. It’s no big deal. We’re going to have a great time. Adam is fun to hang with. I’m telling you... You just need to trust me.”

My hands are shaking, a fact that is clearly visible in my paint strokes. They’re crooked and thicker than I intended. I don’t really mind though. I’m not really paying attention to my painting. My mind is otherwise preoccupied.

Had that been the moment where things had " according to my mother " “gone wrong”? I wasn’t like I am now back then. That was before things had changed. Maybe my mother is right. Maybe that was the time when things changed. Maybe that’s when I became this person.

I sigh, ignoring this thought as I reach over to the side table beside my easel. I grab a random tube of paint and squeeze some onto my palette before dipping my paintbrush in it.

A stroke of gray paint on my canvas. Gray smoke.

The room was warm, the lights were dim... Gray smoke wafted in the air all around me as a slow smile spread across my face. I lifted my cigarette to my mouth and took a long drag before blowing the smoke out. Beside me Adam laughed, leaning his head on my shoulder. “Haley, Haley, Haley... Beautiful Haley Evans.” He turned his head and placed a kiss on my cheek, gracing me with his usual crooked smile. I giggled, maneuvering my arm to wrap it around his shoulders.

Saturday nights at Adam’s had quickly become routine for Skylar and I. His dad had long been out of the picture and his mother was never home, leaving the house empty for us to do as we pleased. It wasn’t big, but it was comfortable. The evenings were fun and peaceful, times where we could all just leave behind the stress of our families and schoolwork. We usually spent our time sitting on his bedroom floor. There were six or seven of us there most every week, smoking and, on a few occasions, drinking. Tonight, though, it was just the original three: Adam, Skylar and I.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I reached in to grab it. Caleb. I smiled upon seeing the name and quickly clicked on the text to read it. My happiness was soon replaced by annoyance.

“Haley darling, what’s wrong?” Skylar asked, seeing my reaction. I shook my head, shoving my phone away. “Is it that stupid boy again?”

“Caleb just overreacts to everything. I’m fine. It’s not like we’re doing anything dangerous. You think he’d calm down for once, you know?” Skylar stood up from Adam’s desk chair and walked over to plop down beside me on the bed.

“You’ve been dating him for " like " a year now. That's ridiculous. When are you gonna end things with him? It's time to try new things out. All he does is annoy you, anyway. Why stay with him if he doesn't make you happy? Have you two even had sex yet?”

I gave Skylar a look, one that I knew she understood. She rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. “He has good intentions,” I defended, though I wasn't sure why. I had spent so much time talking him down with my friends. What would cause me to defend him now?

Adam chuckled. “Good intentions? That’s cute,” he said, condescendingly.

Skylar leaned around me to glare at him before looking back at me. “Seriously, Hale. Just end things. He doesn’t understand you. He doesn’t understand us.”

Maybe Caleb had been right, too, like my mom had. Maybe they’ve both been right this whole time. Maybe that’s why I’m here now, in my room, letting my frustration out in my painting. Maybe if I had listened to my mom when she warned me that Skylar wasn’t someone to hang out with, then I wouldn’t have fallen into that kind of stuff. Maybe if I had listened to Caleb when he told me I was getting in too deep, then I wouldn’t be here anxiously awaiting my trip to court tomorrow for underage drinking.

That all seems petty and stupid now… Those are the very least of my problems. I let out an angry huff of air as I reach over to grab some more paint.

A stroke of blue paint on my canvas. Blue sheets.

My thoughts were racing, my heart beating fast in my chest as I lay there. Clutching the blue sheets to my body, I took deep breaths, struggling to calm myself. Had that really just happened? Did I really just do that? Was that real life? I had to have been dreaming. That had to have been a dream.

Hesitantly, I glanced over at Adam. His bare back was turned to me as he pulled his jeans back on. He turned slightly and, when he caught me staring at him, he smiled.

“Haley, Haley, Haley… Beautiful Haley Evans,” he cooed as he walked over to his bed. He climbed up on top and leaned against the headboard, staring down at me. He lifted his hand and brushed back a strand of my pale brown hair, tucking it behind my ear. Suddenly, though, his demeanor changed. “Are you alright?”

“That didn’t just happen,” I whispered. I sat up in his bed, hugging his sheets tightly against me to cover my chest.

“Why not? Didn’t you enjoy that?” Adam asked, tracing his thumb across my cheek. “I know that I did.”

“That’s not it. It’s just that… Caleb,” I whispered. Adam rolled his eyes.

“Hale, you don’t love him anymore. You told me that.”

“I know, but he’s still my boyfriend,” I countered.

“Just calm down, alright? Everything is fine. Things will work out how they’re meant to be,” Adam told me as he placed his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. “We’ll be together and things will be good.”

“Yeah?” I asked, a slow smile spreading across my face. I let the sheets covering my body fall as I placed my hands on Adam's bare shoulders.

“Yeah,” he told me just before his lips met mine.

Pointless, meaningless sex. How had I let that happen? Sure, I had convinced myself that I didn’t love Caleb anymore, but how had I let something like that happen? Even at my lowest I wasn’t that type of person. At least I thought I wasn’t… Apparently reality had proven otherwise.

In the background, I barely register the CD come to an end. The music stops playing and a silence fills the room, but I don’t hardly notice. I’m still obsessing over old memories, things I wish I hadn’t let happen. Frantically, I search for the next paint color I want.

A stroke of black paint on my canvas. Black drapes.

I knocked on the door as loud as I could. I knew she was home, I knew it. The black drapes were drawn in the way I knew Skylar’s family did when they left the house empty, but Skylar was there. Her silver jeep was sitting in the driveway. I knew she was home.

“Skylar!” I yelled out as I continued to bang on the door. I needed her right now. I needed her and she was ignoring me. “Skylar, you're acting like a b***h!”

I heard some noises within the house and I stepped back a bit from the door. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the door opened. Skylar was standing there in her pajama pants and a tank top, her black hair knotted in a bun on the top of her head, her eyes half shut from drowsiness.

“Damn, Haley. What do you want? I was taking a nap. Couldn’t it have waited?”

“Adam's been sleeping with another girl. He's been sleeping with her this whole time… Since before I left Caleb.” Skylar rolled her eyes as she took a step back from the door, making room for me to walk in.

“Hale, you knew what type of person he was when you got into things with him. Why are you so surprised by this?” Skylar asked, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to walk into her kitchen.

“He said " ”

“Adam says a lot of things,” Skylar interrupted. “You knew that too. If you’re honestly so surprised by this then the joke is on you, Honey.”

“I left Caleb for him. Caleb loved me and I left him for sex.”

“Haley, you’re hot. Get over it and find someone new. We can go out tonight if you want. Tatum is having a party, I think.” I watched as Skylar grabbed an open bottle of wine that was sitting on the kitchen counter. She downed some before setting it on the counter in front of her.

I couldn’t believe she was acting like that. She was being so nonchalant about the situation. I had lost a guy who had honestly loved and cared for me. I had been left for nothing by a guy who had simply been using me for sex. All I wanted was some comfort, someone to make me feel better and to keep back the tears that were threatening to fall and Skylar was acting like everything that had happened was no big deal.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to fall apart. I wanted nothing more than to just curl up into a ball and push away the rest of the world.

But I couldn’t.

I couldn't fall apart, not with the way that Skylar was looking at me, her eyes unsympathetic and condescending. I couldn’t fall apart, not in front of her.

So, instead, I walked over and grabbed the bottle of wine. I closed my eyes and lifted the bottle to my mouth, letting the burning liquid run down the back of my throat. When I opened my eyes, Skylar was smiling.

“That’s my girl. There’s the Haley I've missed so much. What do you say to heading to Tatum’s?” She asked. I nodded my head, taking another swig from the bottle. Skylar’s smile grew. “I’ll go change.”

Skylar stood up and walked out of the kitchen, heading towards her bedroom. I waited in the kitchen, the bottle of liquor still clutched tightly in my hand. I would forget about Caleb. I would forget about Adam. I would forget about everything, everything in life that sucked.

I lifted the bottle and drank.

I glare angrily at the painting in front of me. I’m not even sure what it’s supposed to be. It looks like s**t. It’s not a picture. It doesn’t have any form to it. Modern art? Sure, I’ll call it that.

I set my palette down on the table and turn away from the painting, not able to stare at it any longer. It’s bringing up too many bad memories, too many things that I don’t want to think about.

I had made so many mistakes. I had let people drag me down into such bad things. I had let Caleb slip out of my life to be with a boy who subsequently left me for another girl. I chuckle, though it’s not a happy sound. I guess that’s karma for you, huh?

I should’ve listened to them. I should’ve listened to what everyone was telling me. My mother told me that Skylar wasn’t my type of people. Caleb had warned me that there was something wrong with a senior guy going after a freshman girl. Why hadn’t I listened to them?

Angrily, I push all the paint tubs off of the table beside my easel. They fall to the floor, clattering noisily. Paint splatters across the wooden boards in dots and abstract patterns. Thankfully, my palette manages to stay on the table, preventing an even larger mess.

I don’t even care anymore. I don’t care about the mess. I don’t care about what I’ve done. I definitely don’t care about what anyone has to say to me. It’s my life to screw up if I want. Nobody else gets to make any decisions for me. I was fine with my screwed up life before people started interfering and trying to “fix” things.

But, then again…

I hear a knock on my door, and before I can even respond my mother walks in. She doesn’t look angry or disappointed for once, though maybe a little sad. “Can we talk?” she asks. I nod my head, unsure of what to say to her. I watch my mother walk across the room and I hear the bed give way under her weight as she sits down. I don’t know what to do.

To feel like I’m doing something, and to help distract myself from this awkward silence, I lean down and pick up the paint tubes that I had knocked over, setting them back on the table. I grab my palette and turn back to face my easel, going back to my painting just so I can be doing something.

I can feel her gaze burning into the back of my head. We stay like this for a while without saying anything, her sitting there and me painting. I can’t tell what she wants. Is she here to reprimand me again? To yell at me for my public intoxication ticket? To threaten to throw me out for what seems like the hundredth time? To punish me more? I’m lifting my paintbrush up to the easel when I hear my mother clear her throat.

“That’s a nice painting you’re working on.” This surprises me . They’re the first nice words that have passed between us in weeks. I honestly don’t know how to respond to them.

“Thank you,” I respond, my words barely above a whisper as I continue painting.

A yellow stroke of paint on my canvas.

© 2013 Kevi Grace

Author's Note

This is a short story I wrote for an English class that I later expanded upon. Just thought I'd put it out there.

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Reviews

John Fitzgerald

my vision is too clear...is a most startling line...and the line the best sums up this entire piece... feeling too much, thinking too much, even hoping too mch...you are special indeed :)