The Girl In The Silver Mask

The Painting Room

A while later, when all the tears his friend had to cry were staining his shirt, Dan stood leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door, waiting for Tasha to emerge. So now they were both father-less. He considered telling her about the loss of his own father, but decided against it. After all, it would only cause complications. But, was he heartless or something? Of course, he’d been upset when his father had died, and it still hurt a good deal to think about him now, but Tasha had seemed inconsolable for almost an hour after she’d told him, and that had been a year ago. Ron Wilson had died three days ago. Suddenly he felt like a monster for not being more affected.

          While Dan was pondering this, Tasha emerged from the bathroom; still sniffling slightly and clutching a sodden towel like a lifeline. She took a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m s-so s-sorry about your sh-shirt,” She stammered, she gestured at his tear and makeup stained shirt then paused when he shrugged and took gratefully the nearly full glass of water Dan had been drinking out of and now offered her, sipping it hesitantly.

“I mean, I hardly knew him, but it all came as such a shock, everyone has that ‘It will never happen to me’ kind of attitude. That little bubble  was popped for me the day I found out my dad was gone so I’m just terrified that me another person I’m close to is going to be next and…” She looked at him with pain in her eyes, “Oh Dan. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

          He was shocked. A year and she’d told no-one? There was no-one she felt she could confide in?

“I don’t know I just… you don’t know those girls, they wouldn’t understand at all, and I thought telling people would make it seem more real. Up until now I’ve been pushing it to the back of my mind. Thanks for being so great about this, I mean we’ve only been friends again for about an hour and a half and most of that was me crying. You must think I’m pathetic.” Then she looked away, down the hall at nothing in particular. After weighing all of his possible answers, he decided neither of them wanted to continue that conversation for much longer.

“A cold wooden spoon.” He murmured. Tasha turned her attention back to him, looking extremely confused and slightly alarmed.

“Excuse me?” She bleated, and Dan grinned at her.

“For your eyes, they’re probably sore. A trick my mum taught me. And, for the record, I don’t think you’re pathetic at all.”

          After returning to the kitchen and helping Tasha prepare the spoon like he’d suggested, he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching his friend push the spoon to each eye in turn and sigh with pleasure.

“So, before I raise another sensitive subject…Tash, what were you going to show me?” He tried to be casual, but in truth he was dying to know what it was she had to show him. Her face lit up at the question and he felt ever more inclined to hurry her in his curiosity.

“Of course! Sorry, I got a little…sidetracked, didn’t I? Follow me!”

Abandoning the spoon and icy water on the kitchen counter, she grabbed his hand and raced along the hallway, pounding up the stairs. She obviously didn’t want him noticing anything else that was amiss, but nevertheless, he now saw differences he’d rather ignore.

          For example, Rose was a clean-and-tidy freak. She used to scold Tash about her room, even if there was only one dirty glass and a stray t-shirt on the floor. It seemed that she was never without a duster or cloth. Now though, the landing was cluttered with bags, clothes, boxes and other things she would never normally allow. Tasha’s room was the cleanest room in the house, in fact it was spotless, as it always was; and Dan could tell she knew he’d seen something was wrong despite her hastiness; because she muttered about keeping her room clean for her mum as she led him in.