Page 4 of White Room Virgin

“I haven’t stopped,” he replied calmly. “I just don’t do it in front of others anymore.”

“But that’s …”

He immediately raised his fork with precision, akin to a surgeon’s scalpel, and aimed it squarely at me. “Don’t say it!” His voice had become a low, menacing growl.

“But …”

“Those aren’t your words, they’re your father’s! So shut up and eat now!”

I stared at Martin with my mouth open. His tone of voice was unusual, and the way he took a sip of water and continued eating was uncharacteristic of him.

The tension in the room became unbearable. I closed my mouth again, swallowed, and looked at my full plate as if it were the only one that could tell me what to do next. Lucien got up and grabbed two beers from the fridge. He kept one for himselfand offered the other to Martin, who accepted it with a brief nod of thanks.

I didn’t know Martin like that. What on earth happened to him?

3

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Lucien

When I painted, my world was in order. Reality blurred behind a thick layer of acrylic paint and became a reflection of my dark side. As bizarre, dark, and obscene as the paintings became, every brushstroke had a calming effect on me and felt like a caress. I could concentrate on details for hours and shape them.

I relied on my intuition while working, but at a certain point, I became a perfectionist and found it difficult to complete my project. It was usually an exhibition that forced me to finish, even though I could have spent hours on it. But I needed these moments because without them, I would have lacked an anchor in my life and, sooner or later, I would have been lost at sea.

Despite studying art, I had managed to create a foundation for myself over the last year and a half so that I could make a living from art––without selling myself for anything. This was something I was proud of, as it was something pure. I wouldn’t allow that to be taken away from me again for anything in the world. My art was my lifeline, and without it, I might have ended up in the gutter. Everything else I tried to do ended in disaster, and the fact that Martin hadn’t thrown me out the door yet was nothing short of a miracle––or perhaps due to his faith. Love thy neighbor and all that.

Martin didn’t believe in my theory about happiness. He insisted I simply had talent and should, therefore, take this path. And not only did he believe in me, but he also cared and continued to support and encourage me.

“Lu!”

A voice broke through the roaring metal sound, clear amidst the clamor. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Martin standing in the middle of the studio. He was grinning as he held onto aplastic bag and a rucksack on his back. I hadn’t even heard him come in. I slowly came back to reality. Rays of sunlight streamed through the upper windows, indicating it was already evening.

“Oh, crap!” I switched off the music and jumped up. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s all right,” Martin said.

“No! I’m so sorry! I had drifted off.” I rushed to the sink and washed out the brush. “I’ll be right there. I’ll be quick!”

“Lu! Relax! Take it easy.”

I turned to Martin and frowned.

“You’re not late at all. I just thought I’d come and pick you up.”

I furrowed my brows and tried to make sense of it. Why was that? It didn’t make any sense at all. His university was nowhere near here.

“I was at a fellow student’s house. He lives near the gas station.”

“I see.”

I hurried anyway. Martin knew I didn’t like having people here. The studio was my cave, where I could do whatever I wanted. I had settled in pretty well here. The only thing missing was a shower. But it was enough for a quick wash.

Meanwhile, Martin sat down on the couch, pulled a water bottle out of his shopping bag, and drank it in big gulps. “I know you’re in the final sprint and all, but I’m just doing my duty as a friend.” He took out a salmon sandwich and held it out to me. “I was at the gas station store and figured you might be hungry. When was the last time you ate?”

I laid the brushes out on a kitchen towel and grabbed the sandwich. “You’re the best,” I said, picking up my training bag. “Well, let’s go then.”

We left the studio together and made our way to the next bus stop. By the time we got on the bus a few minutes later, I had already eaten the sandwich.

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