From Grief We grew (Only On Wattpad)

Chapter 14 Hayden

I stand in front of my tutor's front door preparing myself for the calamities that might possibly happen. The door opens and Mira literally throws herself on me. I stand there feeling awkward as she hugs me. She welcomes me in and I follow behind. I look around for the baby but see her nowhere. Damn, there goes my distraction. She takes me to a room which I guess is her art studio. There is a canvas in the center of the room. A stand with art supplies on the right. On the left is a desk. Mira starts rambling about how she loves art and stuff. I feel my mind racing back in time and suddenly I'm not in her room anymore. I'm in Zayden's room. I see his eyes glowing as he's telling me how much he likes to paint. I smile watching my brother go on and on. 

   "Hayden?" 

   "Hayden!" 

   I snap out of my thoughts and look at her.

   "Uh?" She chuckles and adjusts her chest, making me cringe.

   "Pay attention, darling. I said I need to see your paintings so I know on which level you stand." 

   Oh no.

   She gives me a palette with 5 shades of paint on it. "Now I'm giving you poster colours cause they are easier to work with." I nod and stare at it. 

   "C'mon. Don't feel shy."

   I nod and dip the brush in the glass of water. I take a little blue paint with the brush. I look back at her and find her staring at me. I feel more awkward. I make my first stroke on the canvas. I try to focus on it but I can't. I look at her again and find her still looking at me.

   "Can you give me some space?" I ask.

   "Oh sure." She finally leaves the room. I let out a sigh of relief. "Oh Hay you can do this," I hear my brother tell me. I nod and start thinking about all the times I've watched my brother paint. I try thinking of the way his hand moved and what the brush did. Simultaneously I think of the tutorial videos I've watched on YouTube and slowly start painting. "Paint with your hands. Don't control it. Let it do its thing," my brother whispers. So I let my hands do the work. I picture my brother sitting on the patio and looking at the sky. I smile letting myself absorb that image. I see him pointing at the sky and telling me something. I keep painting as I picture the background, the clothes he is wearing and so on.

   Suddenly I stop. I look at the portrait and smile in satisfaction. "Good, I'll give it a 5. 5 out of 10," Zayden says. I was a 1. Zayden was a full-on 10. Knowing that I've become half as good as my brother makes me feel proud. Mira walks in and looks at the painting. 

   "Oh, a self-portrait." I feel a pang in my heart hearing those words. That's how it's been. Even when my college mates saw a painting of Zayden they thought it was a self-portrait and teased me for being in love with myself. It's like Zayden doesn't even exist. No one ever acknowledges the fact that I had a twin brother who looks exactly like me and I'm drawing him cause I miss him and love him.

   "You're kinda at beginner's level," she says, examining my painting.

   "Your colours aren't blended well." She goes on and on about what's wrong. 

   "Hasn't Fanshawe taught you anything?"

   I don't say anything. 

   "Hey it's okay," she says, putting her fingers under my chin. She hovers over me and her low-cut top hangs lower. It's like she is doing it on purpose. So I quickly look away not wanting to look at her chest.

   "I'll teach you. I will make you the artist you are meant to be!" Another pang. I wasn't meant to be an artist. Zayden was but here I am filling in his shoes.