CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CRAIG

 

THIS WAS MY favorite thing about being here – Art.

Pushing open the door, I let the light wash over me, before inhaling the smell of paint, white spirits and lead. Ten people are scattered around the room, my own desk that I sit at every week is occupied. Cracking my knuckles Michael and Laura look up at the same time. Laura’s gentle smile has me grinning at her; she looks at me from under her lashes before looking back down to her page. It’s great to see her back to herself after the distance she had put between us. I don’t think she has any idea what her distance does to me. It’s the needing and wanting. Like air, I shiver, like a drug.

“You’re in my seat,” I say.

“I told you,” Michael smiles while looking at Laura who stares at me with wide eyes.

“Not her, you dick, you,” I tell Michael; he half stands.

“This isn’t your place, Laura is sitting in it.” I say.  Laura starts to gather up her pages, not before I catch a glimpse of her stick figures. I put my hand on her ten-year-old paintings. “Don’t move,” I tell her before turning back to Michael. “Be a gentleman and move.” I narrow my eyes slightly. So he knows I’m not fucking around.

Michael pushes back. “This is bullshit,” he says as I release Laura’s pictures and sit down.

“I can move,” she says, looking at Michael, who stands behind us like an ogre.

“Michael, you’re making Laura uncomfortable,” I tell him as Mrs. Doyle looks down the room at us.

He tuts before moving and sits down at the last empty desk. “You made her uncomfortable,” he says, his face red. I lift up his attempt at drawing – a bird, no a dragon. Jesus it’s terrible. I fold it into an airplane and fly it over to him; his face turns beet red. “You’re a dick,” he says and Laura elbows me, getting my attention.

“What?” I ask innocently. I play with my lip ring. Laura’s eyes widen as she watches me suck it in. I hold back the grin at how easily I can distract her. “You were going to say something?” I say and she blushes while looking away from my lips.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she finally speaks. I get up without answering and get myself some pages and my pencil.

Sitting back down, I lean in close to her, smelling her lavender soap. “I know. I wanted to sit beside you.”

She looks at me again from under her lashes. “Why?” she looks a little like a deer in headlights.

“Because you smell nice,” I say. That isn’t the real reason, seeing Michael sitting beside her gets under my skin, I just don’t like it at all. “And you’re better looking.” I wink at her and she smiles again before going back to her picture.

I start to draw. Time moves so quickly, and the sound dims into the background. The only sense that doesn’t shut off completely is my sense of smell. The lavender scent dictates the picture I’m drawing. A deer looking up, briefly startled, its surrounding, a forest floor filled with lavender flowers.

Most times when I start to draw, the class would be empty when I finish. But I know Laura still sits beside me. My hand aches and I finally withdraw out of the picture.

“Wow!” I glance at Laura, she’s staring at the picture. “Wow” she says again, her eyes touching every piece of the image, before traveling up to me. “You are so gifted. This is like amazing,” Her eyes have that innocent wide look again and I find myself looking back at my picture, at the deer’s wide innocent eyes. Jesus, I feel so awkward. No one’s ever really paid me a compliment. Especially from someone I want to like my drawings.

“Thanks.” I clear my throat, while getting up, I take a quick glance at Laura, and she looks up at me with confusion. “

Did I say something wrong?” Laura asks, softly. Why does she sound so hurt.

“What? No, I have a session with Rose. I just realized I was late.” It wasn’t a complete lie. I leave, but the paper feels like it burns my hand. I take one final look at Laura before I leave. She’s watching me, the confusion still lingering in her eyes. I’m confused at my own reaction. It’s just a picture I tell myself. But it’s really how she’s managing to integrate herself into every aspect of my life without knowing it.

Art is a safe place, one where it’s just truly me. Now I’m drawing pictures based on her. The girl who has the ability to close me off for days and pull me down. She’s starting to feel like my new drug of choice and I’m not too sure that’s a good thing.