Finding Home

Teacher

I unlock the painting studio at nine in the morning and set up my own canvas. With open studio hours, students can come in to work on paintings outside of class. It isn’t mandatory but most of the work for assignments can’t be completed in class time and dorms aren’t exactly set up for painting.

My job as the teaching assistant is to make sure no one uses the room for unauthorized purposes. You’d be surprised by how many students get off on messing around in public spaces. For the first part of the day, only a handful of students come in and work quietly for a few hours before leaving for other classes.

At one o’clock a girl with dark hair comes up to me and asks if I can unlock the workshop for her. She wants to cut a frame for a new canvas before the next class session and she seems responsible so I agree. It isn’t a big deal to go down to the workshop since there isn’t anyone else in the studio right now. I close the door behind me and lock it so no one has access to my laptop while I’m gone.

When I get back upstairs, another student is waiting outside of the studio.

“Hey man, I’m Theo.” He looks down at a sheet of paper in his hand. “I thought open studio hours were from nine to five today? Do you know why the door is locked?”

“Hi, I’m Merit. I’m actually the TA for your class and studio hours are right now, I just had to help another student with something really quick.”

“Oh good, this is my first painting course so I don’t know how things work yet.”

I push the door open and let him walk in first. “Well, let me know if you have any questions. I’m going to be working on my own painting but feel free to interrupt.”

“Sounds good.” He nods and starts to set his things in front of an empty easel next to where the girl in the workshop set up her supplies. I wonder if he realizes that but I don’t say anything, they are probably friends.

Instead, I put my headphones on and start up a playlist. I mix some paint with my palette knife and get back to working on my first assignment for the semester. I have been working for about fifteen minutes when the girl returns from the workshop. She struggles with the wood she is carrying in the doorway for a minute before I can set my brush down and help out.

Naturally, the ruckus draws Theo’s attention to the area. He watches the girl with interest as she lays down the pieces of wood. She looks up at me, then wipes her hands on her pants as she stands.

“Thanks for your help, I may have grabbed more than I could carry.” She chuckles softly as she offers her hand to me. “I’m Siena.”

“I’m Merit,” I reply as I shake her hand.

“Where do we keep the tools in here?”

I direct her to the cabinet and she pulls out what she needs to put the canvas frame together. While she is working on that, I check my phone for texts.

Whitney: Hey baby, call me when you get a chance. I miss you.

Whitney: I know you’re mad about the party but you should let me make it up to you tonight ;)

Whitney: I’m sorry, I acted like an i***t on Saturday. Please let me make amends.

I shake my head and don’t reply. I know I’m probably overreacting at this point, but it’s more than her being ignorant that got under my skin. I’ve always been self conscious about my place in the family. I haven’t been treated any differently but I can’t help but feel like I’m not a real Holmes. Trevor may have raised me since I was a baby but I am still insecure about our father-son relationship. He already had a son when I came along and then he has my little sister. I sometimes wonder if everyone would be happier if I was Trevor’s biological child.

I know that my grandparents made mom and dad’s life difficult when I was growing up. Grandma and Grandpa Jones were devastated by their son’s death and wanted to keep the only link they had to him, which was me. My mom wouldn’t let that happen and because of that my parents spent a lot of time and money on fighting my grandparents for custody of me.

Eventually the court decided that my mom would keep custody of me but I had mandatory yearly visits with my grandparents. During these visits my grandparents made it very clear to me that Trevor was not my real dad and that I shouldn’t expect anything from him because the only reason he put up with me was for my mom. My rational brain knows that my grandparents only said these things because they were trying to keep me from having the bond with Trevor that they believed I would have had with their son. Still, there is a nagging voice in the back of my head that reminds me of their words.

I shake off the unpleasant thoughts and look around the room to see if any of the students need help. Theo is still staring at a blank canvas even though at least ten minutes have passed since he set up. Just as I’m about to walk over and offer my guidance, Siena starts talking to him. She tells him about toning the canvas and I see her digging through his bag of paint supplies for the right color. I make note to let Professor Thomas know about her as a potential TA in the future.

The other student is immersed in their work and hasn’t looked up since they came in two hours ago. Meanwhile, I haven’t made any significant progress on my own painting in the same time. I look back at my reference photo and study it for a minute before I start mixing another color.

Before I know it, the alarm on my phone is going off to tell me that it’s time to lock up for the day. When I scan the room, I notice that I’ve been alone for a while now. It looks like the students who were here earlier have cleaned up their areas and left without saying anything.

For a moment, I feel bad but I remind myself that if they needed anything they would have spoken up. I gather up my brushes and water container, taking them over to the sink. As I scrub the paint out of my brushes, I consider how to deal with Whitney. By the time I close the studio door behind me, I haven’t reached a conclusion so for now I ignore her messages.

Instead, I send a text in the group chat to my roommates asking if any of them need a ride home from campus. I will figure out what I want eventually, and if Whitney gets tired of waiting, I guess that will make my decision for me.