Every other Saturday, there's an art class at a local studio near my house. It costs ten dollars per person for the supplies, and I always make sure to leave an additional $20 donation. It's the least I can do for such fun classes.
"Are you sure you're okay with staying home?" I ask Silvia while grabbing my keys. "I know everyone else will miss you."
"It's fine, sweetie," Silvia says honestly. "I have a lot of work to do today. You have fun."
She usually comes with me to the classes, and I have to admit, she does a pretty good job. It's a nice way for us to bond, too, and I know it makes my dad happy to see Silvia and I doing activities together.
"Suit yourself," I say, opening the door to the garage. "Good luck with work," I add before closing the door behind me.
After checking to make sure I brought cash, I get in the car and leave the house.
It's barely a ten minute drive to the studio, and I'm already there before the third song on the radio can finish. I step out and immediately see another regular walking towards the building. Her name is Ericka, a twenty-two year old who likes to paint for fun and to get away from her four-year-old kid, Bethany.
She spots me and jogs over, the sun gleaming off her mocha skin. "Hey there, Reid," she says, smiling and flashing her white teeth. "You weren't here last time. Everything all right?"
"Yeah, of course." To be honest, two weeks ago wasn't that great. I had just gotten out of a depressive episode and was struggling to find motivation for anything—even painting. "Just busy."
We walk over to the studio and give our ten dollars to the person in front.
"How's Bethany?" I ask.
"She's great," Ericka says, "thank you for asking. Maybe I'll bring her here sometime. I think she'd enjoy it. I mean, she does have a tendency to smear paint on random pieces of paper. Sometimes the walls, too."
I smile.
Ericka and I sit next to each other in the chairs near the back. Our canvases are already laid out on our easels with our reference photos—a picture of a cherry blossom tree—lying on the table next to it. The "teacher" of the group, Francis, steps up to the front. I say teacher lightly because our instructions are never too strict, and he allows us to have creative freedom.
"Thank you all so much for coming," he says, wearing a wide smile. "If you are a regular, welcome back. If you are a newcomer, thank you for choosing our studio! Today I will be teaching you how to paint this beautiful cherry blossom tree step by step, but please go at your own pace and add your own flare to the design. The class lasts two hours, but feel free to leave whenever you are ready. Other than that, have fun!"
He starts off by naming each color on the given palette, but I've already tuned him out. I've never really followed his instructions because I like doing things on my own. I feel like when I follow someone else's way of painting, it's not really my own. Except for Bob Ross, whose tutorials I used to follow constantly.
Ericka tends to follow Francis' lead, so I always end up leaving the class before her. I've already finished with the backdrop while those who follow Francis are still figuring out the horizon.
"Wow, yours is looking great," Ericka says, leaning over.
"Thank you," I say, nearly startled by her sudden compliment. I look back at my painting and very lightly tap my brush against the white cloud to add shading. "I'm excited to take this one home."
"You should be." She looks at her own painting and puts on a disgusted face. "I'm not too proud of this one. Bethany is going to make fun of me for sure."
YOU ARE READING
Titanium Promises
Roman d'amour"I love you. I'll always love you." "Is that a promise?" "Titanium. For always." All Reid has ever wanted was to find his place in the world. Then he finally does. With Luke. But everything is cut short when Luke's past comes back to haunt him. To f...
