Michael & Noelle

"Painting"

Michael wanted to be persistent about dropping me off however I simply wanted to be alone.

I couldn’t exactly describe how I felt, but it was close to violation. The first time we ever had s*x and right afterwards he’s telling me how he doesn’t ever want to get married, nor have kids.

I wasn’t sure if this was a deal breaker for me just yet, however I knew personally that in the future I would love to get married, and I want at least two little me’s running around. It doesn’t need to be in the near future but I would like it to happen.

Maybe I overreacted, maybe I didn’t, but I think I did the right thing by requesting space because I honestly felt like I had been wronged.

As the uber dropped me off at home, I turned off my phone because of the messages he kept sending.

I found my aunt cooking in the kitchen, and her face morphs into one of confusion when she notices me.

“And what in the hell are you doing back here?”

I walk over to one of the stools, climbing onto it.

“I think I overreacted at Michael’s.”

“Oh no, what did he do?”

I love how she automatically assumed it was him.

“He told me that he didn’t want any kids, nor did he plan to get married.”

“Really,” she pauses, her wooden spoon in her hand, “but he’s so young.”

“I know, and so am I, so it’s not like I’m expecting kids in the next two years but of course I see it in my future.”

“And that’s valid,” she says, spinning around from the stove, “what you want is, valid, and it’s important, and you better not settle for anything less. You deserve to be more than just satisfied, you deserve to be happy.”

I run a hand over my arm, sighing, “I do, but then I wonder if maybe he’s just thinking that way because he’s young . . .  what if he changes his mind?”

“Hmm, that’s true as well, many people don’t want children while they’re young, but as you get older, you yearn for it.”

“But I’ll never know for sure if that’s something he’d reconsider . . . I don’t want to invest my time into someone and then their goals don’t align with mine.”

“I agree, however, like you said you’re young. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself, nor the relationship, people come and go,” Aunt Cleo shrugs, grabbing a clove of garlic from the fridge, “If Michael treat you well . . . and checks all of the boxes, I say enjoy the experience.”

Aunt Cleo was right, people come and go. Michael was a wonderful man, who listens tremendously, who takes care of me, who worries, and attempts to solve any problem I encounter.

“But first . . . make him sweat,” Aunt Cleo winks.

“Hey . . . when we were at the restaurant, why did you seem so offended by the fact that I was considering something new?”

“I wasn’t offended by the fact, Elle, I was just a bit . . . sad that you never even spoke to me about it, not even a little bit,” she explains, “and I guess I just felt like . . . we were distant . . . I don’t know.”

“I get it,” I tell her, “but you know that I come to you with all of my problems, nothing is going to change that.”

“I know that,” she waves me off, “I was just caught lacking.”

I chuckle, walking around the counter to engulf her in a hug.

“I don’t think we say it enough, I love you.”

She pats my back, “I love you, sweet girl.”

#

For the first time since I’ve work as a burlesque dancer, I had a break. They gave me a week off, and truthfully, I didn’t have much to do with the extra time.

It had been four days since I last spoke to Michael, and I didn’t have a definite answer as to why. He adored me, and I adored him, and perhaps I was just embarrassed of how I reacted. He had stopped calling after the second day, and settled for morning, and night texts. I wanted so badly to respond . . . to tell him that it was okay, but I just couldn’t bring myself to.

Today was Friday, and I figured I might as well just take a stroll around town. I’ve been meaning to find a hobby, and maybe I would find inspiration there. Aunt Cleo was barely around anymore, and my guess was Evanio was doing his job. It made me so happy to see her happy.

I took an uber into the town, because I didn’t want to drive and stopped at a local bagel shop. I just wanted a lightly glazed one, something to much on while I walked around.

I needed to get some friends.

The town was a lot quieter than I envisioned, and the streets weren’t as busy as before. Truthfully, I considered it scary. Maybe it was because of the economy, or maybe people just aren’t as excited for the world as they used to be, but whatever it was, it was more depressing than staying in my room.

A sign stood near a pale white building near the street. The building had wooden windows, and a stairway could be seen from the outside.

(Learn How To Paint In A Day!

Only $20)

This was it. The universe had given me a way to apologize to Michael, while offering him a beautiful gift in his taste. Sign me right up!

As I climbed up the stairs I was met with an open area that held canvases, paintbrushes, paint, and at least 5 people. They all stared at me as I stood before them, and I smile gently, raising an arm.

“Hi there, I’m Marco!” The instructor walks towards me, a warm smile on his face, “are you here to learn how to paint in a day?”

“I am, actually,” I reach into my purse to pull out a twenty and he takes it from me before leading me to an open canvas.

“So, have a seat,” he motions towards the stool, “and I’m just going to show you the basics.”

“You have five minutes to think about what you’d like to paint, and then I’ll be back.”

He winks at me before disappearing for a few moments, and I bite my lip, staring at the empty paper. 

“Hi,” a pretty woman besides me leans forward, a paintbrush in her hand. Her hair falls forward, framing her face as she smiles. 

“Hey,” I turn to look at her, “what’re you painting?”

“My family home,” she replies, staring up at her painting. It was impressive, and seemed more like a wooden structure.

“This is your first time painting?”

“It is,” she nods, “trust me, it gets easier once you get the hang of it.”

Her painting was no Picasso, but for a beginner she did okay for herself. 

“I’m Noelle,” I tell her.

“Jaz.”

#

I decided to paint a bar of soap, with Michael’s name writing in cursive on top of it. I’m not sure if he would like it or not, but I put my heart and soul into –

“Is that an egg?” Jaz asks, peaking at my painting.

“What – no, it’s a bar of soap.”

“Really?” she tilts her head, “why is it so runny?”

I stare at my painting, noticing that the edges did look a bit rough.

“Because it’s paint,” I snap, “leave my soap alone.”

“Alright guys,” the instructor claps, “you can leave them here to dry, and pick them up tomorrow after 2 but before 4.”

“Tomorrow?” I squeak, “I thought we could take them home . . . now.”

“If you have a space to dry them, you can take it home,” he says, “but it’s just so much smarter to leave them here, convenient too.”

“I’ll take it, thanks.”

“Uh – okay. It’s your painting,” he shrugs, taking a paintbrush on his palm before waving it away, “have a good night.”

Everyone stands to leave, and I gently take my painting in my hands, carefully holding them while I walk down the stairs.

“You know,” Jaz says, swinging her keys in her finger, “it would have been so much easier, if you’d just left it.”

“Don’t worry about me, I have my reasons.”

“Alright,” she raises both hands, “do you need a ride?”

“I live all the way over at 23rd.”

“No problem, that’s where my mom lives as well, I can stop by.”

“Oh . . . okay, sure.”

Jaz leads me to her Suzuki Swift, and helps me place my painting carefully on the back seat. I slide into the passenger side as she gets into the driver’s and we take off.

“What made you want to get into painting?” She asks.

“I’ve actually been looking for a hobby, painting happened to be an interesting option.”

“What do you think? Will you continue?”

“Eh . . . probably not, I think there’s something else out there for me.”

“I get you,” she nods.

“What about you?”

“Truthfully I was really just bored,” she chuckles, “and my sister does classes like these all the damn time. She finally got me to try them out.”

Jaz seemed to be Chinese, but I didn’t want to assume anything. 

“Where are you from?”

“China,” she replies, and I was right, “I moved her when I was nine, I’m twenty-seven now.”

“You’re twenty-seven?” my eyes widen, “then why  . . .  how?”

Jaz laughs, “how what?”

“You look so . . . young?”

“I can thank my mom for that, she keeps me up to date on skin and body care. Calls at least 50 times a week just to ensure that I’m following my routines.”

“Wow,” I breathe, “I think I’ll need to check up on that routine as well.”

“I’d be happy to share,” she shrugs, “we can exchange numbers and I’ll send you the links to all of the products I use.”

“Thank you.”

“And don’t worry, I know they’re different skin types but the products I use are for sensitive skin so you should be fine.”

“Amazing,” I sigh in content, looking out the window, “you know . . . I’ve been meaning to find new friends.”

“Me as well,” Jaz lets out a heavy sigh, “but people here can be so . . . racist.”

“Trust me,” I scoff, “I understand.”

We pass a few buildings, and just as we were about to exit the town, I notice Michael’s car outside of a restaurant.

“H-hold on –,”

“What?”

“Stop the car,” I see him near the window, in a deep conversation with another woman. Her hands were on his shoulder. That motherfucker.

Jaz pulls over, the nearest that she could. Anger boils in my chest as I get out and grab the painting from the back. 

“Noelle,” Jaz gets out as well, following quickly behind me, “what’re you doing?”

I brush past everyone on the sidewalk, wondering where this busy rush of people came from. Jaz’s footsteps are heavy as she tries to keep up with me with her short legs. As I push open the door to the restaurant, Michael’s eyes widen when he notices me. The people around me pause in anticipation as they see my angry legs making their way to his table.

“Noelle?”

Without thinking, I throw the wet painting onto him and his date gasps in surprise. Michael sits, frozen, before peeling the canvas off his face.

“f**k you, Michael,” I seethe, Jaz standing behind me with her hands to her lips. 

“Uh, Noelle?” his date stared at me with wide eyes, and a shaky hand, “it’s so nice to meet you, I’m Michael’s sister.”