Page 16 of Eye of the Hurricane
I’m lucky enough that my parents let me turn the extra office in the house into a mini art studio. There are paintings and photos of all different sizes hanging on every wall. There are drawers filled with all the different mediums I’ve dabbled in over the years. Hundreds of brands of paint, brushes, pallets, and other small tools litter the drawers, reflecting back a life time of practice.Wish they’d reflect back the instruction manual on how to put emotion into this fucking canvas.
She walks around for a few minutes, taking a moment to examine each work piece by piece. Finally, she turns to me.
“I don’t know if I’m the best person to be answering this for you. They’re really good. I couldn’t tell you the emotion behind any of them, though. I don’t know if I could with any art,” she admits.
“Professor Vines said my work was void of emotion altogether.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, ouch.” At least her delivery was sweet when she said it.
“You’ll figure it out. When you’re feeling something, paint. That should help.”
Ares
We’re going on a date tonight
Katherine
Can’t, work tomorrow.
Ares
I’ll make us dinner at your house, you won’t even have to go out. I’ll make sure you can get to bed at a decent hour.
Katherine
Okay.
Ares
Allergies?
Katherine
None. I hate yogurt though.
Ares
Well there goes the yogurt parfaits I had planned for dinner.
Katherine
You’re ridiculous lol. I’ll get home around 4.
Ares
Then I’ll be there around 5:30
Sure,being Kat’s fake boyfriend is mostly out of the kindness of my heart. A favor for a friend. I’d be lying, though, if I said there wasn’t a small voice in my head telling me that this is my opportunity to show her she can have her dreams and a relationship. She’s under the impression she has to choose and she chooses careerevery time.
So I spend the afternoon getting ready for our fake date. A quiet, nagging voice that sounds an awful lot like my mom echos in my head. It’s a million thoughts of how messy this fake dating thing could get, why it’s a bad idea, and why I shouldn’t do this.
I run to the grocery store and spend half of my time there deciding what to make for her. I skim aisle by aisle trying to choose. I consider eggplant parmesan before realizing that eggplant as a surprise maybe isn’t the best foot to start on.
I decide to go with something more universal and pick fettuccine alfredo with grilled chicken strips. I grab some garlic bread and red wine to go with and head out.
Halfway between the grocery store and Katherine’s house, I decide I should’ve grabbed flowers. I pull over and look up the nearest grocery store or gas station selling flowers. In a rare bit of luck, there’s an actual flower stand less than a mile out of my way.
