Saving Brownie | ✔

Chapter 9 : Brownie Can Talk!

A couple of days passed by and my usual routine was to eat and sleep. Also yes, taking care of Clark was another job. Greta insisted Clark and me to go out again and take some fresh air so that was what we planned.

The entire evening I was going to hang out with Clark though he didn't seem much enthusiastic about this idea. On the other hand, I was extremely excited to irritate Clark. Greta threw us out of the comfort of the house once again and we ended up in Clark's car. Clark was driving and I sat beside him rambling about all the random news but not malicious gossips since I strongly detested that. He wasn't keen on replying, although he did nod his head occasionally, but did not divert his attention from the road.

To my astonishment, he wasn't rude or tried to shut me up either. Instead, he listened to me obediently which made me suspicious of his intentions. Eventually, I became quiet because of the ridiculous change in Clark's behaviour. I chewed my upper lip and gazed out of the window.

"That was all you wanted to share about the minions?" Clark asked and I blinked rapidly.

"You talk!" I exclaimed. Today, Clark tried to start a conversation with me and not the other way around. I still couldn't believe that he really talked considering his strange and reserved personality. Also, he was actually listening to all the crap I was spitting out. I pinched his cheek and he grimaced which made me realize I was not dreaming. I checked his temperature and he frowned.

Maybe I was exaggerating but being with this man for entire two weeks, I realized that he must have talked only a few lines or a few words. I stared at him and raised my eyebrow. From the corner of the eye, he too looked at me and raised his chin as if questioning me. I shook my head and grinned widely. "Ah! I'm not done yet. So about the cute, yellow minions . . . they like bananas, aren't they naughty?"

* * *

We drove around the corner of the street and we came across a number of speed bumps. We were crossing the main area of the town where hospitals and schools were located. Due to the speed bumps, I disliked travelling here because my boobs went juggling everywhere.

I got irritated and considering the fact that Clark was deliberately driving the car in a fast pace, my poor boobs hurt a lot. I was not even wearing a tight bra. I wailed, "Do something, Brownie! My boobs are hurting!"

"Should I hold them for you then?"

I buried down in my seat and pulled my hoodie over my head. I crossed my arms below my breasts and forlornly looked out of the window. Everything was so weird. It was like Clark and I had switched our places. How could he show emotions? I meant he was a human being after all, but suddenly after two weeks he simply changed? He started talking?

From the corner of the eye, I saw Clark silently driving the car. I straightened my posture and asked, "What happened suddenly that you're being nice?"

"I'm not being nice---"

"No, I mean why are you talking again?" I asked curiously since I smelled something fishy. Honestly, I did not expect him to reply, but he did.

"My therapy went nice," he said quietly and my mouth formed an 'O' shape. I was itching to ask so many questions as to why he was going through all this, what was wrong with him and even about his glasses.

"Would you continue being like this from now on?" He didn't reply, but instead he just shrugged. I really hoped that he was getting over his sadness by therapy sessions. I looked at him and admired his facial features, imagining him being cheerful, smiling and laughing. I grinned and batted my eyelashes at the pleasant thoughts. Clark looked haunted when I was continuously staring and grinning. I giggled and declared, "Here, we arrived."

I hopped down the car and swung the door shut. I stretched my body lazily and yawned.

"Where are we?" Clark asked and I turned towards him.

I simply said, "Come with me."

I grabbed his hand and dragged him along. He did not protest, but followed me until we arrived at the narrow lane and I confessed, "This is what I wanted to show."

The walls of the lane was bright and warm with vibrant colours flashing everywhere. It contained beautiful graffiti art- the various hues of red, blue and yellow blending on the smoothness of the wall. I tugged at his shirt and he followed close behind me. I pointed at one of the coloured walls and said fervently, "See, this is the galaxy and I love this one the most because of it's three dimensional effect."

My breath hitched when I noticed that we were standing quite close. Clark towered over my comparatively small frame and simply nodded. We both stared at each other for a while and I mentally slapped myself. I laughed awkwardly and pushed him so I could walk away from him.

"Which is your favourite one?" I asked and he pointed towards the wall which was in the corner. I never thought that he would even pay attention to the farthest wall. Most of the tourists didn't pay any heed to it, but he did.

I dismissed his pointing and suggested, "We should probably go."

I tried to pull him, but he stood rooted in his spot.

He insisted, "No, tell me about that painting."

"Fine." I sighed audibly and stalked towards the painting. "This painting is of a beautiful woman. It's of course not Monalisa, since my mum had eyebrows."

Clark remained silent so I continued talking in a shaky voice, "The portrait is of my beloved mum which was of course painted by me. In fact, all these paintings you see on the wall was done by me and Noah helped me a bit with this portrait, though I didn't want him to."

At first, Clark did not believe me that I could actually paint but when he saw the fierce sparkle evident in my eyes, he raised his eyebrows high in appreciation. I tried to talk properly without feeling vulnerable or guilty.

"My mum was not impressed with me painting on the walls. Instead, she wanted me to focus on my studies and paint on a canvas board rather than roaming around carelessly and vandalising the public property. In the entire world, I had passion and seriousness for only painting and especially spray painting. So to impress her, I painted her on the wall and I surprised her. That was the first time in my life, I saw my quirky, cheerful mum cry. I still remember hugging and comforting her that day. She was crying in guilt for preventing me from pursuing my passion."

Clark looked away and his adam's apple bobbled. He felt sympathy for me? Maybe, he too must have gone through similar pain.

"Why do you love this art so much?" Clark asked innocently and I snorted. He leaned on the wall looking sexy and I looked at him right through his glasses and into his eyes.

"I love graffiti art not because it's fun to vandalise the property. Well, a part of this may be true- the thrill and excitement that is. But you see, I want to spread brightness all around. It sounds cliché or sappy but so it be. When tourists or any local people visit this lane, they smile when they look at this art, no matter in what shitty mood they may be. That smile from a known or an unknown, makes me happy because I know I was successful in bringing one moment of joy in the person's life."

I took a sharp breath and smiled dolorously. Clark seemed flabbergasted and speechless. I wanted to lighten up the atmosphere after my little speech so I wiggled my eyebrows and said, "I want to show you one more thing."

I made him run till the end of the lane. I pointed up to the sign board excitedly. Clark choked in disbelief and pretended to not clearly see at what was written. I giggled in delight. Right there, was my name - Georgia's Street, officially written with a brief note, crediting me for my art. My full name along with my birth date and a lot of fancy adjectives were used. I glanced at Clark who was busy reading the note. He looked down at me impressively and I fought the urge to grin, but I did, flashing my teeth and all.

This honour was bestowed upon me after many people gathered to look at my art. Word got spread around about the notorious George's amazing deeds. Clark seemed like he wanted to say something but then he didn't. Of course he wouldn't want to compliment me, that arrogant piece of bitter brownie!