Ecstasy

Chapter 28

Tyson:

I awoke to the sun just peaking up from behind the trees and the view out the window I was sitting next to was amazing in the rising sun. The golden light kissed the glowing field of wheat, streaking the sky with pinks and oranges. I looked back at the room I was ignoring and the weight of my actions slammed into me. I was in Calla Stevenson's room and had arrived so high as a kite. Guilt washed over me but there was another emotion there, I tried to remember last night and how Nate and I walked through the streets of our childhood and then passing the yellow farmhouse I recognized I sprinted away from Nate. Why wouldn't he have followed me?

I dismissed the thought and surveyed my surroundings. The yellow cream walls of the room were only emphasized by the glow of the sunlight making the room appear a breathtaking gold. A desk sat in the far corner, a carved wooden chest against the wall to my left with an old record player sitting on it along with a tall stack of old records and a massive dark wood four poster bed dominated the centre of the room. And fast asleep tucked in it was Calla, with her back to me I couldn't see her face but her golden blonde hair was splayed out behind her, spilling on the pillow like a glowing golden waterfall. I eyed the door to my right and guessed it had to lead to the bathroom as the other door across the room led to the hallway if I remember rightly. I stood up quietly not wanting to disturb the sleeping Calla and went through the door. I guessed right; it was a bathroom and after using the toilet I splashed water on my face and ran my hands through my unruly messy hair before walking back into the bedroom.

I looked around and smiled; this type of room was so Calla. To the vintage bedspread of oriental lilies to the stack of old records that looked like they got played frequently. As I looked back at the bed to verify Calla hadn't stirred my eyes caught something lying on the floor next to the bed.

I spied the sketchbook sitting overturned on the floor accompanied by some pencils and I couldn't resist standing up and retrieving it. Sitting back down at the window I flicked open the notebook sized sketchbook. Suddenly I was shocked the sketches were even drawn. They looked like photographs. Most of the drawings were of figures and body parts; hands and faces. I past a few drawings of what seemed to be illustrations of the war and a few of a little girl smiling, but it was only until I reached the last drawing did my mouth truly drop open. I felt as though I was looking in the mirror; it was a portrait of me. My finger traced the fluid lines of the pencil and the smile she drew on my lips that was so like my own. Suddenly I heard a groan and looked up quickly to catch Calla turning over in bed, her eyes squeezed shut against the bright morning light.

She groaned again, stretching out on her back raising her hands above her head. She let out the most adorable yawn before turning to face me, her eyes fluttering open. The moment her eyes caught mine she froze, her eyes darting back between the sketchbook and my face, a frown growing on her face.

"They're really good," I motioned to the drawings. "I saw the one of me."

Silence ensued, she still held the same uncomfortable expression, "I-I haven't finished it –"

I interrupted her modest self conscious justification, "It's amazing. Did you draw all of these?"

Her face blushed and she nodded, not meeting my eyes and I couldn't help but smile at how cute she was. Suddenly there was a knock on the door and we both looked at each other urgently.

"Calla? Are you awake?" A women's voice called through the door.

Calla was lightening quick; she jumped out of bed grabbed my hand and tugged me over to a wooden blind sliding door, opening it she pushed me into the closet and I had to stifle my laugh at the situation.