Camp Paradis || Jean Kirstein

He's Two Minuets Away From Having A Break Down

Saturday. It was finally Saturday. That meant that the first week of campers were leaving this morning and I would finally be able to end this between Jean and I for good. Only I wasn't going to allow us to be friends after this. It was going to be over, and I would win.

Everyone was gathered in front of the mess hall, saying goodbye to any friends that they made during their time here. More importantly, people were in the art studio, picking up any pieces that they had made throughout the week. Meaning it would be busy enough for me to slip in, and slip out.

I wore a black two piece today, thinking that it might help me blend into the walls around me. I climbed up the stairs slowly, biting onto my thumbnail, and stepped into the room that was full and loud. Kids were running around, pulling parents over to the walls so that they could show them their hanging artwork that they were proud of.

I started to look for Jean so that I could avoid him. I saw him talking and shaking hands with parents at the back of the room where he had obviously kept his things separated from everyone else's. Behind him, I saw a few canvases of half finished artwork that were far more advanced than that of the children around here. They had to be Jean's.

His use of color, I had to admit was appealing. Each color seemed to fit so perfectly together and their contrasts were actually complimentary. His impressionist style was consistent throughout the handful of canvases, even though they ranged from landscapes, faceless portraits, and a combination in between. Ok, so maybe he did have some talent, but I would never admit that to him.

He motioned to the pictures behind him as he spoke, the campers obviously asking and admiring. I stayed as far on the other side of the room as I could. Fate was on my side when I saw the small side table in the corner in front of me. There was a large mason jar on it with brushes sitting in discolored water. Next to it we're different pencils, paint stained rags carelessly thrown on top of the table, and other brushes that were stacked on top of each other.

  I glanced at Jean to make sure the he was still distracted, he was. I walked quickly and quietly straight ahead and began to look at the table. If I were to guess which was his favorite, I would have to look to my left at the uniform brushes in the water. They were all the same dark handle color, looked to have the same brand name on the sides, and were kept cleaner than the spot on the right. Some of them also had teeth marks on them. Gross, but those had to be it. Have fun "creating art" without your stupid brushes.

  "Beckett?"

  I jumped back and whipped around to become face to face with Jean. Shit, shit.

  "Hi." I said, trying to smile at him.

  "Bye Jean!" a young voice called for him.

  He looked over his shoulder and smiled at a young boy who was waving eagerly at him. Jean waved back, "Work on your blending and have a great summer!" he called back. He looked back at me and nodded to the door, "That's Falco. He was here everyday, asking for help because he wanted to be an artist but he was scared to start." I could see him begin to smile, like he was proud of himself, but before it could fully stretch, he dropped it like he remembered what he was going to say, "What are you doing here?"

  There were probably a hundred excuses I could have picked from but I chose the absolute worst one because it was so unbelievable, "I came to see you." I said quickly.

  He frowned, "You haven't spoken to me since I made you that coffee."

  "Well it tasted awful. I wouldn't talk to anyone who made me awful coffee." for a lie I didn't believe in, I was actually coming up with answers pretty quick.