The Nightam Family

Chapter 4: Jess Nightam

The basement of Mary Nightam's house had been converted into an art studio for Jess several years ago. Jess, who had always been a creative person, had requested a studio for her to create her art several years ago and since there had been no better use for the basement, that had become her art studio. There were strict rules about it, from both Mary and Jess. Jess had told her mother to not come inside when she was painting. Mary, in return, had requested Jess would not stay inside for more than five hours a day, or more than two hours at a time, so the painting fumes could disappear through the ventilation system. Jess wanted materials, Mary wanted some art to decorate the house. Many concessions too had been made, but they had come to an agreement.

And now Jess was hiding inside that basement, losing her frustrations on a painting. Her mother had scolded her quite badly, both for her appearance to the family meeting and for Jess's reaction to hearing of her engagement. How dare you show up like that, with pink hair, in those dirty clothes! We have a reputation to uphold, don't you realise that! How dare you talk to Mortimer like that? He's so much older and wiser. Do you want to end up as David? And then her mother had run to her room. To cry, Jess suspected. David was basically the one name that should not be used in this house. Jess would often use it if she really wanted to infuriate her mother though. And her mother mostly wanted to use David as an example for her little girl, but she would often cry afterwards.

And Jess had gone downstairs, to her studio, and had been throwing paint at a wall furiously ever since. Stupid mother! A splash of red paint. Stupid old fart! A blue splash of paint on the wall. Freaking messed up family! Dark purple. The entire wall had slowly gotten covered by a combination of hundreds of colours. And still Jess kept going, adding a second layer. Freaking Scott! Retarded mother! More and more colours, until Jess's anger finally subsided. And the wall ended up looking like a work from Jackson Pollock, only with thicker lines and infinitely more colours.

Jess looked at it, knowing she'd paint the wall white again tomorrow. She made up her mind. First, she'd have to talk to Scott. Ask him what he thought about the marriage. And if that failed... She could always run away from the family now that they were allowed contact with the outside world. It would break her mother's heart, but she absolutely refused to marry Scott. He was like twice her age! Insane, sick, absolutely icky! She suddenly remembered the camera was still running. Jess had made it a habit to have a camera running every time she was painting something, so she could later see where she'd made the mistakes. She turned it off and went upstairs. Her mother was still in her bedroom, so Jess decided to make herself a sandwich. Perhaps, she wondered, she was only upset because she was hungry. Yet she immediately dismissed the idea and noted that she just wanted a sandwich. Because sandwiches, Jess concluded, are delicious.

After making a sandwich, Jess went downstairs again. She sat down on the single chair in the room and looked at the wall. It would definitely have to be painted white again, she thought, and preferably before her mother saw it. Jess knew only too well that her mother preferred the more classic art, the art that actually showed something. Abstracts were not real art, in her mother's opinion, and she'd prefer it if Jess only made 'real' art. Jess, however, felt like she should still have to gain experience in every kind of art, not only the classics. But that, again, was something they would not agree on. Jess sometimes suspected she had more traits and preferences from her father than from her mother, although she also knew her mother would strongly disagree with that. After all, how could any child born in the Nightam family not be like a Nightam in personality?

Jess finished her sandwich and started cleaning up the paint. No matter how angry she was, she should take care of her paint. Especially after today, since she'd gotten on Mortimer's bad side. Though, in Jess's opinion, it could be argued that Mortimer only had bad sides. Still, that was something that should not be spoken of. Mortimer was a saint, after all. Jess chuckled at the thought of it. She couldn't imagine the old guy with a halo. Even when she tried, the image she ended up with was more ridiculous than sensible or realistic.

So each packet of paint was shut off and placed back on the shelf. Each paintbrush was carefully cleaned before she left them to dry on some pieces of toilet paper. In an hour or so, Jess suspected, they'd be dry and ready to be placed back in the pot with the others. Her studio was messy, yes, but she still took good care of her materials. Everything had its place so that she wouldn't accidently break something. The floor and the walls were still splattered in paint, one wall in particular, but Jess had long given up on cleaning those. She'd tried it for the first few months, but she got sick of it. Now, splashes and drips of paint were all over the floor, and if Jess squinted, she would see all kinds of shapes in it, different shapes each time. She liked a pattern like that and she'd once planned on giving her bedroom a similar design, but Mary had stopped that plan. It would be ugly, Mary had said, and it'd lower their image in front of the family. Luckily, Jess thought, after today there wasn't much of an image left to ruin.

After cleaning everything up, Jess went upstairs again. She changed her clothes into something a little less splattered in paint and then went outside.

The large circular field in front of her had once been her entire world, Jess thought. Around the circle were the houses of other households in the Nightam family, as well as a few empty ones. They had once been lived in and probably would be lived in again someday, but right now the family was quite small. Jess knew that she and Scott would be living in one of those empty houses after the wedding.

In the middle of the field was a large marble fountain. The artist was unknown, or forgotten, which irked Jess. She hadn't been allowed access to the family memoirs, which Mortimer kept, so she wouldn't ever know. Four paths were leading to the fountain, on the four points of the compass. Jess saw Scott playing with his daughter near the fountain. The poor girl was not even a year old, and already she'd lost her mother. As Jess was looking at Scott, she realised how far everyone had grown apart. When they were children, the four of them - Scott, Jess, Patricia and Layla - would always play together on this field, but those times were over. Indeed, Jess barely spoke to any of them nowadays, everyone was getting preoccupied with their own hobbies, their own lives. And back when they played together, the future they'd seen was so different from reality. Patricia would've been first to get married, and then it would go in order of age. Instead, the way things were looking now, Patricia would be last to get married. And they'd always be together. They'd imagined that the world would forever remain the way it was. Instead, the family now had quarrels regularly. Everyone voted for the son of Mortimer they'd descended from. It left Jess alone with Scott, but Jess had been too busy with her art to talk to her only peer. If different branches of the family tree interacted it was cold, distant, unlike the warmth that had been there before. The Nightam family used to be one big family.

Things had changed.