Two Hundred and Thirty

“It’s all a little unorganised” I said, stepping into the room and flicking the light on “I tend to finish them and try to find any space that’s free”

I glanced around at the racking that sat against two of the walls, paper and thicker canvas’ jutting out here and there. I tried to keep it tidy though, with blank canvases neatly piled by the door and all my equipment in drawers and boxes beside them. In the centre was a table, well, not really a table but more like a big block of wood, stained and splattered with various paints and colours. And then just right beside it, my wooden stool that was just as paint smothered as the table, thankfully, the hardwood floor in there was easy enough to clean.

“You spend most of your time in here?” I headed over to the racking whilst he stood by the table.

“Yeah” I sighed “pretty much”

Just as I said it, I realized that as of late, that wasn’t a very true statement.

He placed his palms on the table, leaning his weight on them “can I see the oldest one?”

“The oldest?” I repeated, trying to think of where it would be “Well, I did this one the day I moved here”

I bent down to the bottom rack and tugged out a large piece of hard paper and slid it onto the table. John moved around so that he could see it, both of his hands placed on either side of it. My eyes traced the veins that stemmed up his arms from the back of his hands.

“I know this place” He smiled, still staring at it “It’s that café behind the drug store just outside of town- on the way to the airport”

“Yeah” I responded.

“I hate that place” He glanced up at me briefly with smirk.

“How can anyone hate-“

His eyes continued to scan over it “When I was fourteen, after three long weeks, I plucked up the courage to ask this girl called Hannah in my history class to meet me there” He breathed out a laugh “I got my dad to help me pick out some flowers for her- but, I ended up waiting there for three hours, she was a no show, but I still waited until my mother told me it was time to come home”

“Ouch”

“I cringe at the memory” He laughed.

“Flowers though, really?”

He grinned “Yeah, I was there to impress-“

“No I mean, I don’t get why people think that giving flowers as a gift is a brilliant gesture” I began “Really, you’re giving someone something that was meant to be beautiful in the wild until someone came along and ripped it from the ground so that it can slowly wither on their coffee table”

He laughed from the pit of his stomach, causing me to find it funnier than what it actually was.

“True… I guess it’s a good thing she didn’t show up then” He chuckled.

I watched him as he gently picked up the paper before him, resting it in his palms like it was a new born child and headed over to the racking where he put it exactly where I’d gotten it from.

“Hmmm, what about…. The one that took you the longest”

I nodded with a smile and reached deep into the racking on the other wall, before pulling out a canvas and placing it on the table.

“Holy shit” He said with a smile in his tone.

It had taken me around a month, working on it whenever I got the chance… it was a portrait of my grandmothers dog. He’d died when I was about twelve, but he was still hugely part of my growing up regardless. I wasn’t sad when he died, nor do I miss him much, but he was a good dog and I’m sure that at some point he was my best friend… maybe that’s why I had the sudden urge to paint him, because subconsciously, I knew how much he meant to me once.

I’d taken such care in capturing every little feature on the scruffy Collie’s face, yet never showed any of my family. Staring at it on the table right there, I made the decision that in 26days when I got home, I’d give it to my grandmother.

“This is insane Rae” He reminded me of my art-… Marcus. Knees bent, leaning over the piece as if getting closer, actually smelling the paint would make its effects better.

“Thanks” I looked at my feet and rubbed my arms.

I don’t think I’ll ever know what to say when people give a compliment.

“Do you paint people?” John said, still examining the piece before him.

I began rummaging on the bottom rack again “I have… I don’t do it often though”

Finally, I pulled out another sheet of paper. The man I had painted was my father. Just a portrait from the neck upwards… I guess I was missing him that day.

“Who is it?” He asked, taking it carefully from my hands and holding it in-front of him, it was smaller than the others I’d shown him.

“It’s my dad” I answered “I don’t like painting people… you can never do them justice”

John nodded as if he knew what I was talking about “This is amazing though, really”

I wanted him to stop. He’d have to stop soon because he would run out of things to say.

I was staring at the painting in his hands like I was having the conversation with it and not John. But the nagging burn in my cheek told me that John wasn’t looking at the picture anymore. I glanced up, my stomach knotting at the impact of eye contact… I’d never seen his eyes so close up before. I mean, I knew they were amazing but, up close, they were a piece of art in their own right. It was as if, I could climb right in and find a new planet with creatures and concepts wilder than anyone could ever imagine.

Heat prickled up my spine rapidly, like lava bursting out and flooding down the side of the mountains. I tried to think if there was something in the room that I could look at, but nothing, my mind was blank, I’d lost all sense of where I was, like all that existed was me and whatever hid behind those eyes.

He didn’t avert the gaze either.

Maybe the hate had subsided into a mist of guilt and pity but that didn’t mean he could pull one over on me. Sure, I saw him in a different light, but that didn’t mean that the things I had once hated about him weren’t still there, they were very much still there in fact.

I let out a light gasp as a sudden vibration cut bluntly through the thick air between us. I lunged away from him, only now realizing how close we actually were. I cleared my throat and stalked to the other side of the table.

John fumbled around, laying the painting on the table and grabbing his phone out of his pocket.

“What’s up?” He answered.

I felt awkward, like I should find something else to do while he spoke.

“…um, not right now…”

I started to put the two paintings away.

“…I don’t know… really?...”

I tried to make as little noise as possible.

“…alright, but… I don’t understand why you’re the messenger, I mean, she could have called herself…”

Clearly this was about one of his many mistresses. I imagined Lucy calling a guy on my behalf because I couldn’t handle it myself.

I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder at him, the muffled voice through the phone was droning on and John had gone stiff. His mouth small and his eyes wide.

“Yeah, alright, I’ll come over” His tone indicated a sudden tiredness within him.

I turned to face him as he put the phone down and stared at it in his hand.

“I have to go” He mumbled.

“Alright”

His expression and the new found stillness in the air told me that I shouldn’t ask any questions.
He looked up at me like he’d miraculously regained all his energy and life, like I hadn’t just seen his exhaustion two seconds before. “But I want to see more of this at some point”

His smirk warmed my chest.

I laughed “Okay”

He nodded and turned before walking out of the room and towards the front door. I followed him.

Every sound was amplified; the creak of his boots on the floor, the humming of the A.C, the groan of the hinge as he opened the door.

He stopped before stepping out, like he somehow needed me to speak before he could leave.

“Thanks again for everything” I was careful not to make eye contact.

“You too” He smiled before heading off down the corridor.

I’d already shut the door behind him by the time I’d realized what he had said; he was thanking me as well. All I’d done was show him my artwork and give him a coffee, I hardly think that equals all that he’d done for me.

I couldn’t be bothered to get changed, even though I’d slept in the clothes I was wearing. I flicked on the tv and sank into the couch, preparing myself to spend the rest of the day with Ryan Gosling.

My favourite part of Blue Valentine was fast approaching when I heard the front door swing open.

Alarmed, I shot up in my seat, snapping my eyes to the door. It was Lucy.

She sighed in relief “Thank God you weren’t arrested” She closed the door and sank into the seat opposite me.

“Nearly though” I pressed pause on the TV.

“How did you get out?” She folded her legs underneath herself “Loads of people I know spent the night in a cell”

If I told her what happened, she wouldn’t believe me, she’d think it was something more than what it was.

“I just ran with the crowd and called a cab when I was far away enough” I rubbed my arms.

“Rae!!” She shouted “What happened to your arm?!”

“Oh… I… I don’t know”

That wasn’t a lie; I didn’t actually know how it happened.

“And weren’t you wearing that outfit last night?” Her concern turned into a smirk.

“Uh- yeah, I just didn’t get changed”

“Somehow I don’t believe you” She laughed.

“Whatever” I snapped, quickly changing the subject “Where did you go?”

She sat upright and she suddenly filled with life as if this was the real reason she came round here.

“Well” She began “Kyle and I left pretty early and went back to his and… well, you know. And then this morning he was saying how he really liked me and I was like ‘oh my god’ so said I had to meet you for lunch”

I fought the urge to shake my head “So you don’t like him?”

“No, just a bit of fun. I don’t know why guys can’t just take the hint that I don’t want anything serious” She said as she inspected her nails.

“But what if he really does like you, like what if he’s different?”

“I don’t want him to like me because I don’t like him” She shrugged her shoulders.

“You barely know the guy” I leaned forward as if this would make me understand her more “You say that all guys want is your ass… and then someone comes along who might actually like you and you shrug him off, I don’t get it”

“Maybe I’ll settle down someday, but it won’t be with Kyle that’s for sure” She laughed “But, if your neighbour over there asked me to settle down right now this second I might be at least a little tempted”

I wanted to push her onto the floor. John was more than that. Sure he was everything she knew him to be, but she hadn’t seen him like I had before. Well, maybe she had, but like me, she hadn’t taken the time to see past the arrogant, pretty boy side to notice it…

My cheeks began to burn as she carried on, raving about how jealous every girl in town would be and how great life would be with him. The pressure was rising in my chest and I was about to scream...
Until I stopped myself. Why did I feel such a strong need to defend him?

Inner embarrassment kicked in, all while Lucy carried on talking; not noticing that I’d stopped listening. Getting defensive and feeling somewhat responsible for John was pathetic of me. He was a fully capable man, in the know of what he wants; I was deluding myself on insisting that I knew him better than she did.

The sensitive side to him that had been revealed to me shouldn’t have excused the fact that he was an asshole when it came to women. This had to come to an end, John was trouble and I couldn’t let myself forget that for another second.