Canvas

12: Grey Patches

ATLAS

Black and white. Black and white. It's funny how it took someone to say it aloud for me to question it all over. I guess it's because I've been conditioned to that tunnel vision for many years.

"Do you ever notice how much the world sees in black and white?"

It reminded me of my angry rant days ago on how quick some are to jump at their exaggerated dreams. The more I think about the words Raven said, the more I begin to digest the past.

It made me realize that I've hit tons of grey patches in life. Most during my business trips. So much of it I had to keep in the dark when we were struck down with an NDA; so, well, I can only keep it to myself. I can at least say that they were huge learning lessons; I can't bring myself to have another sip of alcohol, and now I know who is truly someone that sticks by your side. Those times were my first free falls, and the last time I would go down that risky road. I feel that, though, ever since I limited my time modelling, it toned down my psyche. It was that young adrenaline rush that was bound to lose its flame.

Whoa there, Atlas.

Slow down.

Take a deep breath.

Yeah, those grey patches haven't all healed overtime. Some still feel like fresh wounds. Sure, there were amazing experiences I had, wonderful people I met continents across, places that felt cinematic. But there were also times where I had to deal with the emotions coursing through all over again. Those methods of "dealing with it" were not always the smartest. We live and we learn, right?

--------------------

As soon as I walked into the gallery, one of the students, a middle-aged lady, excitedly ran up to me.

"Atlas!" She belted it out loud enough for the glass chandelier above to jingle. Scary.

She handed me what appeared to be a coupon. On it was a golden sun with a cartoon face accompanied with various cartoon fruits and vegetables. Right above it are the words "Just Peachy" along with an address.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Me and my husband's restaurant," she said with a passionate smile. "Come to it and I'll give you a meal on the house."

"What..." I felt taken aback by the friendly gesture. "That's really kind of you, but-"

"No no no," she insisted by pushing the coupon to my chest. "Take it as a token of my gratitude for your hard work."

"Oh..." I felt flustered. It was like those nice ladies in your neighbourhood giving you home baked goods. "Thanks. Seriously."

What a way that was to start off class. It's still too early for the teacher to walk in, so I carry my things to the stool in the centre and let them lean against it before sitting down. I hear students greeting each other, talking about their morning, until it becomes white noise as I read an article about Frida Kahlo.

"Hey, about that third job thing I mentioned before..."

I flinch. That voice sounded a lot closer. As I look up from my phone, I notice it's Raven. Something about him seems... off. He looks exhausted. A hasty attempt at getting ready for the day. Are his eyes red? He shakes his head, clutching his sketchbook.

"Forget it. Don't worry, like I said, it was a poor excuse for a joke."

He turns to walk to his seat. I want to reach out and grab his arm to stop him, but I decide to hold back.

"Wait."

The squeak from his shoes almost makes a cartoon errch noise. He doesn't turn around, but I assume I have his attention.

"I mean, well, if it was a joke then that's fine," I say. "But it's not... not a bad idea, actually."

I sound really disappointed. More than I thought I'd be. Whether by accident or not, he gave me time to think about the offer. I notice Raven flop his sketchbook lazily on the drawing board, before turning to face me. I don't know what's making me talk faster than I can think, but I decided to go with it.

"The modelling hours for this class are pretty lax. Web designing is more of a side-job. Other than that I basically have a lot of free time. You don't have to pay me, either."

I stop myself. Do I really seem that desperate? I was more curious than anything about what he had planned if it was legitimate. He pushes his glasses up his nose bridge.

"Okay."

"'Okay'?"

He chuckles, then rests a hand on his hip, the other scratching at his chin. "Atlas, you're gonna make me think about ideas for the rest of class."

There's his usual humour. I notice he's perking up, too.

"Oh, and be prepared for a possible pop quiz."

"Another?"

He laughs. "Maybe, maybe not. You'll have to maybe, possibly study to maybe, possibly find out."

I return the smile. "Challenge accepted."