Don't Let Go

Gallery

I stalked out of the coffee shop. My anguish and sadness had been channeled into anger, red haze filled my brain and I felt myself wobble as I walked. I could hear Kendall talking fast through one ear but I was too furious to listen to what she was saying. What had Will meant? Who was he really? A half of me was completely convinced he was the sweet, artistic boy who I'd spent my evening with. The fantasy I preferred. But the other, decidedly negative side, chose to take his recent behavior as who he really was. That couldn't be. It didn't work.
"Are you going to talk to me at all?" Kendall said, sounding somewhat annoyed. I realized I'd been ignoring her for more than a few minutes. Guess I was disqualified from the Friend of the Year Award.
"Sorry. It's nothing," I smiled, hoping she would buy it. Her raised eyebrow said otherwise but she didn't try to push it.
"What do you want to do today?" she asked.
Honestly, nothing. I wanted to go back to the car and cry and question life. But that wouldn't be fair to Kendall, especially since she had absolutely no idea what was going on. I pulled out my phone half-heartedly and searched Local Events in the Area. A link to an art show was the first thing to show up. Ah, irony. I felt disgusted.
"You love art, Misty! Wanna do that?" Kendall looked at me curiously. It was odd for me to turn down any chance to look at art and so to keep the feeling of normality I shrugged and nodded. Kendall looked relieved. "Ok. Let's go back to the car and we can drive down there and stay until, like, lunch time."
"Sounds like a plan," I said. Inside I just really wanted to cry about Will. "I should probably call my parents," the thought had just dawned on me.
"Oh my god! Same." Kendall pulled out her phone and I did the same.
"Misty?" my mother answered, her voice sounded tired and relieved. "How are you, honey? I miss you."
"I miss you too, Mom." A little lump formed in my throat, it had been awhile since I heard her voice. "California is great. Really hot and beautiful, Kendall and I are having a great time. How are things back home?"
"Good," her voice sounded tense. Somehow I knew something was wrong. I'd always been close with my mom when I was seven she had a son, my brother. It wasn't long after his birth when he was diagnosed with leukemia. I remember vividly my mom breaking down into tears while my father held her, trying to comfort her. I was standing in the doorway, shocked as I'd never seen either of my parents cry before. I went over to her, all young and innocent hardly understanding what was wrong and she just held me, I could feel how grateful she was to have me alive and healthy. Our bond grew even stronger when my brother died three years later and I was all she had left. My dad wanted to try again, have more kids, but my mom said no; she couldn't love another child as much as she loved me.

"Mom," I said straightforwardly. "What's wrong."

"Nothing, honey," she forced a laugh, "call me later tonight. I love you."

Still uneasy, I sighed. "Ok. Love you too." She hung up and I felt sick. This vacation was supposed to be an escape, so far it had only been stressful and heartbreaking.

"How are things back home?" I asked Kendall, aware of her rough home life.

She cringed. "Fine. Dad's thinking of leaving again and Mia moved out to be with her boyfriend, you know the senior Jack. Mom seems to be fine, though."

"What about the little girls?"

"They're doing good. I mean it's summer break, so I guess they're out playing with their friends like we did at that age."

"I hardly need a reminder of sixth grade us," I joked.

"Dark times," Kendall agreed.

We reached the art show and I could tell it had been going on for a few hours. The set up was usual: a few tables displaying various pieces of art and their proud creators sitting behind to welcome anyone who showed interest in them. I felt a tad more anxious, the stress of Will replaced with the worry of what was going on back home, but he still wasn't completely out of my mind.

"Misty, look at this," Kendall said, gesturing to a far table. The bright yellow of the statement piece caught my eye, it was placed in the very middle of the table so I was sure it was the one the artist was most proud of. "Wanna take a closer look?" I nodded and walked over slowly. A dark haired man, about in his mid-fifties was sitting regally behind the table. Oddly enough, his face showed a slight touch of boredom as though it was not his choice to be here.

"Hello, sir," I greeted him, smiling warmly. All I received in response was a cool nod. I looked at the painting that had captivated me earlier. It was clearly a take on modern art, full of squares and yellow accents but beneath this there was very fine writing as though a poem had been written and then painted over but the words were still visible. I squinted to read what was written.

And all these little children

You try to teach and change

Are immune to your consultations

They are quite aware

Of what they're going through

Deep. "I really like this one," I said to the artist.

"Do you?" his voice was deep and somewhat familiar, but he sounded disinterested like my opinion didn't really matter.

"Yes," I said resentfully. Who did he think he was that his art was too good for me? Rude. "If you don't mind me asking, what was your inspiration for this piece?"

"I wouldn't know. My son is the artist, I'm just here to represent as he has a beach volleyball game today. I'm Harrison King by the way."
"Is your son Will King?" Kendall all but screamed. I felt my stomach drop and my mouth went dry. Classic. This was so typical of my life.
"Yes. Do you know him?" Mr. King seemed bored, he checked his watch and leaned back in his chair.
"Uhh-" Kendall started, I jumped in.
"We know of him. We're good friends with Kelsey." I didn't know if Mr. King knew her or her last name but the last thing I needed was Kendall to start raving about how attractive Will was because then that would bring up questions about the party and I didn't want to think of that. Will...I wasn't feeling too good about him.
"Kelsey, ah. She's  a sweet girl. Very pretty too." He smiled and I felt disgusted. 
"Well, good bye Mr. King. Your son is a very good artist," I said politely.
"Yeah, tell Will we say hi," Kendall added before running after me. "Can you believe it? That was Will King's father! Wait, why are you walking so fast?"
"I don't think Will King is all that," I growled.
"Oh my god Misty! We don't even know him too well."
"I'm sure he's a real jerk," I said.
"You're so critical. Just because his father was a little, well, rude doesn't mean he is." Kendall looked at me and I shrugged. I wasn't ready to tell her about a Will, not until I was completely sure about my feelings and his. People change so quickly. "Want to go see him play volleyball?"
"No! Get over your obsession with him already!" I snapped. Maybe I was a little jealous, but I had really no idea why. "We're here on vacation, Kendall. Can we please just forget about guys and spend time together? This is our last summer together, then it's college and life and back home." I felt tiny tears filling my eyes as this truth hit me again. I was trying so hard to escape the future, but it was coming so fast. Summer was only three months.
"What even, Misty? It's summer, we're in California. I'm just trying to have a good summer, probably our last summer as best friends, but you're making it really difficult. You don't talk to me, you're moody, and everything we've done so far has been about you. I've had hardly any say at all." She sounded extremely pissed off and I was taken aback for a minute before I got angry.
"Whatever. Maybe we should take a break from each other. We drove all this way together in that tiny car and we really haven't half any personal time." I don't even know what I was saying, but she seemed to be agreeing.
"Meet you back at the car to sleep tonight. Buh-bye Misty." Kendall walked off before I could even think about what happened. This trip was seriously messing with me, now I had both Will and Kendall to deal with and I couldn't handle either.