Give Me a Reason to Believe
Chapter Four
You’ll have to understand, I get very into it when I paint. I get lost in the picture, wondering how I can make it better, how I can make it beautiful and meaningful and how to give it conveyance. My surroundings immediately melt away, and the picture and I are one. Nothing else matters, and the world is silent. If that doesn't happen, I know I've painted shit.
Until, that is, the person who has lately given you ALL! of your inspiration sneaks up behind you and tells you he loves it.
“Gerard! You scared me to death!” I said, after jumping about a foot and a half out of my seat.
“I’m sorry, but I really do love it. It’s absolutely beautiful. It makes me so sad, though... Who is it?” he asked, pointing to the woman in the tattered black dress, holding a bouquet of dead roses to the wind, letting their petals swoop around her, as bright red rain splashed down on her. The rain was the only bright splotch of color on the whole canvas. The rest was grey and dismal.
“My grandmother..” I said, barely even thinking. I was deep in thought, thinking of the woman who’d started me painting in the first place, the one who’d, when she went, taken all my purpose with her. I thought I’d never paint again. That is, until I saw Gerard.
“She’s beautiful. Was she an important person to you?” he asked.
“Was?” I asked, wondering, how could he know she is now but a “was”?...
“Nothing that conveys this much sadness and longing and loss could be of someone who is still among us,” he said, with a knowing, sympathetic glance at me.
“Well, you’re perceptive. Yes, she is dear and departed, and yes, she was beautiful. This painting is nothing compared to what she really was, but it’s just what I feel about her,” I said, looking down.
“You didn’t answer my other question,” he said, lifting my chin with his finger, “was she important to you?”
“Very... she believed that I could do whatever I wanted, especially when I wanted to start painting. She bought me my first canvas, brushes and paints. I’m using the same easel she bought me,” I said, with a fond look towards the scratched old easel, that needed to be held together with a few extra screws these days.
“I think that’s lovely. My grandmother is very important to me, as well. She supports my singing very much, and she made me my first costume for a school play,” he replied, looking at me directly in the eyes...
Oh, those eyes... oh, that boy...
“ I didn’t know you sang,” I said, for lack of anything else.
“Oh, I love to. It’s the best form of release, next to death,” he said, with a small laugh. As you can imagine, I was slightly shocked at this, but not because he thought death was a wonderful form of release, but because I’d always thought the exact... same... thing...
“You continue to surprise me, Gee,” I said, smiling.
“I could say the same thing about you, Elena,” He said warmly, with an intense gaze.
Just the way he said my name, the velvety smoothness of his voice, the look in his eyes, I had to. Nothing in the world could stop me. I kissed him. Softly, but quickly, on the lips.
I immediately went red, and so did he.
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it’s just–“ He kissed me again. This time longer. It had to have been at least a minute, which was a long ass time in my perspective.
It took me completely by surprise, but before I knew it, I was kissing him back, and my hand went up to his face, tenderly bringing his closer to mine...
Suddenly, he pulled away. I looked at him with a confused expression, but it wasn’t me he was looking at. It was Mikey, Ray, Frankie, and Bob, who were all standing right behind the gazebo...
Oh, snap.
Until, that is, the person who has lately given you ALL! of your inspiration sneaks up behind you and tells you he loves it.
“Gerard! You scared me to death!” I said, after jumping about a foot and a half out of my seat.
“I’m sorry, but I really do love it. It’s absolutely beautiful. It makes me so sad, though... Who is it?” he asked, pointing to the woman in the tattered black dress, holding a bouquet of dead roses to the wind, letting their petals swoop around her, as bright red rain splashed down on her. The rain was the only bright splotch of color on the whole canvas. The rest was grey and dismal.
“My grandmother..” I said, barely even thinking. I was deep in thought, thinking of the woman who’d started me painting in the first place, the one who’d, when she went, taken all my purpose with her. I thought I’d never paint again. That is, until I saw Gerard.
“She’s beautiful. Was she an important person to you?” he asked.
“Was?” I asked, wondering, how could he know she is now but a “was”?...
“Nothing that conveys this much sadness and longing and loss could be of someone who is still among us,” he said, with a knowing, sympathetic glance at me.
“Well, you’re perceptive. Yes, she is dear and departed, and yes, she was beautiful. This painting is nothing compared to what she really was, but it’s just what I feel about her,” I said, looking down.
“You didn’t answer my other question,” he said, lifting my chin with his finger, “was she important to you?”
“Very... she believed that I could do whatever I wanted, especially when I wanted to start painting. She bought me my first canvas, brushes and paints. I’m using the same easel she bought me,” I said, with a fond look towards the scratched old easel, that needed to be held together with a few extra screws these days.
“I think that’s lovely. My grandmother is very important to me, as well. She supports my singing very much, and she made me my first costume for a school play,” he replied, looking at me directly in the eyes...
Oh, those eyes... oh, that boy...
“ I didn’t know you sang,” I said, for lack of anything else.
“Oh, I love to. It’s the best form of release, next to death,” he said, with a small laugh. As you can imagine, I was slightly shocked at this, but not because he thought death was a wonderful form of release, but because I’d always thought the exact... same... thing...
“You continue to surprise me, Gee,” I said, smiling.
“I could say the same thing about you, Elena,” He said warmly, with an intense gaze.
Just the way he said my name, the velvety smoothness of his voice, the look in his eyes, I had to. Nothing in the world could stop me. I kissed him. Softly, but quickly, on the lips.
I immediately went red, and so did he.
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it’s just–“ He kissed me again. This time longer. It had to have been at least a minute, which was a long ass time in my perspective.
It took me completely by surprise, but before I knew it, I was kissing him back, and my hand went up to his face, tenderly bringing his closer to mine...
Suddenly, he pulled away. I looked at him with a confused expression, but it wasn’t me he was looking at. It was Mikey, Ray, Frankie, and Bob, who were all standing right behind the gazebo...
Oh, snap.