I'm Not Okay. I Promise.

Chapter Seven: Well, I've Been Holding on Tonight.

"It was painted for my grandmother," I said, turning towards Frank as I crossed my arms over my chest. I'd never really liked people venturing into my studio unathorized, but it being Frank, I could understand. I sighed, watching his face twist into a very confused and uncomprehending expression. I gave a sigh, knowing that this was going to take a lot of patients and understanding to explain everything that I wanted to.

"Did she ask for it?" Frank asked, pulling his knees up to his chest as I watched him rest his chin on top of them. His eyes were full of interest and wonder, and it was amazing how someone could want to know so much about my life story. It wasn't anything special, so I just kept the conversation on the picture.

"No, Frank. She...She didn't ask for it." I stated, swallowing softly as I thought back to the reason I'd needed to paint the portrait in the first place. I turned back to the large, wall sized painting, looking over it. It was a painting of a beautiful, slender ballarina. Her hair was as black as onxy, her skin sliky and white. The way her dress fit caused her to look like a doll, although she was a living, breathing person somewhere out there in the world. "I was asked to paint it for her funeral last year, in which you had attended. She was a lover of the arts, dance in particular. It was quite sudden, her death and it pained us all. Me especially."

My grandmother was the only one who ever really understood me. She was the only one who accepted me for who I was and couldn't give a shit about what I'd done or was like. She, in her later days, was always so petite and it hurt me to see that she could have broken at any given minute. It hurt me to see how, such a strong, independent woman, could have looked so fragile, so vulnerable at her last given hours. I felt tears sting my eyes as I looked down at my hand where the gold, shining band lay around my finger.

"What is it?" Frank asked as I felt him take my hand and pull it towards him. I blushed a bit when I felt the warmth of the other's hands around my own, a blush forming on my cheeks. I took a good look at the ring, before turning towards the wall, pointing towards the painting.

"It's hers..." I whispered, the younger girl wearing a long black dress, the red velvet lace standing out beyond the dark ora. Her legs were long and thin, the black ballet slippers laced up her calves. "Helena's ring, Frank...My grandmother." I whispered, smiling a bit at the sound, swallowing softly as I gave a slight sigh, knowing that Helena was watching me somewhere, letting me know that no matter what came my way, that I could always conquer it with someone I loved.

I looked over towards Frank who was swooning over the painting, our fingers somehow laced. I couldn't help but give a small, breathy laugh, sitting on the edge of the chair where Frank was perched, admiring the painting the same as the other.