Charlie
The scraping of coal against paper breaks the silence of the studio apartment as Charlie shades the perked-up ears of her Siberian Husky's portrait. She draws in stray strands of fur as well for texture. She hurries her movements when she hears him whimper miserably. "Almost done, Les. Then you can chill out."
A minute later, she scribbles his name across the top of the page and signs her name just below the paws: C. Chase. She tucks her pencil behind her ear, takes the drawing off the easel, and moves over to her beautiful model. She sits next to him cross-legged and shows him the picture. "Alright, Lester. Tell me what you think. And be honest."
Lester leans forward and sniffs it curiously. He's so thorough, going from head to toe of his portrait, it's as if he really is forming an opinion. But he then moves on to sniffing Charlie and proceeds to lap at her face.
"Oh--pfft--Lester!" Her motions of protest are quickly replaced by giggles and laughter. She tries to dodge his tongue as often as possible, but his determination renders her fighting useless. "Okay! Okay!" she surrenders. "Here!" She pulls a doggy treat from her back pocket and gives it to him, his reward for sitting still for a little over half an hour.
He takes it out of her hand and settles down at her side. He gnaws on it hungrily and happily.
She runs her fingers through her ruffled near-black hair, just cropped short a few hours ago. "Asshole," she says to him. She mindlessly and lightly skims her hand over the shaved left side of her head, which she did herself as soon as she got home. It's something she'd never done before, and she figured it was about time she did something new.
She eventually gets up after staring at her artwork for what feels like ages. The uncomfortable cramp in her leg twists as though she hasn't moved in days. She stretches it out as much as possible as she makes her way to her bed, which is nothing but a full-size mattress on the floor next to a window overlooking her hometown. It has as much color as she can manage: a blue bed sheet, a pillow, and a fuzzy white blanket. Or, rather, it's supposed to be white. It'll never reach that true potential with Lester's black and white fur all over it. She lowers herself before falling backward onto the mass of stuffing and springs. She grabs her phone off her pillow and connects it to her Bluetooth speaker. She's growing tired of the silence, so she searches for her favorite song and plays it. Love Like This by Natasha Bedingfield plays softly from her windowsill. She drops her phone on her stomach and stares at her ceiling, dimly-lit by the glow of the setting sun. She quickly loses herself in her thoughts.
Memories of her recent break-up come flooding in. Seeing as it only happened a week before, her emotions are still as raw as the day she left him. Just the thought of his name brings tears to her eyes, so she does her best to avoid it at all costs.
She didn't want to leave him. She loved him with every bit of her being. And he loved her. But, in the end, it seemed he loved his drugs more. It was fine when it was marijuana. She could handle that. But her tolerance wore thin when green plants turned into white powder. She'd come home to lines of coke and straws everywhere. And as she noticed an increase in the substance, she also noticed a decrease in belongings. Her jewelry began disappearing. Soon after it was their clothes. Then CDs, DVDs, televisions, his own cell phone. It got to the point where they could barely afford the house they were living in. But they had an abundance of cocaine, and he wouldn't part with a single gram of it. So she packed, he yelled, she cried. It was nothing short of a disaster, especially when he dropped to his knees and begged her not to go.
At least she saved Lester, who was originally a birthday gift from the bastard. Lester has been a better boyfriend then he ever was.
Lester was the tiniest puppy when she first got him. He was so hyper, and curious, and everything lovable about a puppy. He grew on her love, her care, and she never let him down. Or, at least, she tried not to. But she had to work almost ten hours a day, and she would come home and find he had burn marks and patches of fur missing. This would usually be followed by the discovery of her boyfriend's "friends" in the house as they laughed and called for Lester to come back. So, yes, at least she saved Lester. He got the worst of the shit storm that was her relationship. And, bless, he came out the same pup, pleased by everything and going strong.
That's it. That's the memory she wants to end the day on. With the purple of the oncoming nighttime sky visible from her window and the soothing tune of All I Need by Christina Aguilera, her body is numb, calm, at peace.
The bed dips slightly underneath her as Lester hops up and joins her. He curls up and nestles into the mess of the crumpled blanket, resting his head on his best friend's lap.
She closes her eyes and melts into the stillness of the atmosphere until sleep creeps over her at last, and she willingly succumbs to it.
YOU ARE READING
Now Matters (ON HOLD)
Fanfiction((This story is being edited. This is supposed to occur not long after the Battle at Hogwarts. I didn't take that into account.)) It's not what you did then. It's what you're doing now. That's all I care about.
