No Place Like Home

Dreams

Ashlynn

Her hand danced over the pages, drawing the figures out of the paper. Dark lines and bold strokes, clean black charcoal figures, fast as she could draw them. Turn the page and draw the next. Don't think. Don't worry. Just the charcoal, the page, the figure, the music, turn the page and do it again. Never slowing, never stopping, turn the page and draw. Draw with intensity and ferocity and pull the art from the page.

Done. She'd used her entire notebook. How long had she been here to have filled every page? Speed drawing was an exercise Ashlynn used to take her mind off something. It was meditative. Just the dance of the pencil, page and the drawing within it. Ashlynn didn't have to think about her life or her job or her lack of friends or... or Seamus. She didn't have to think about Seamus. Ashlynn realized she had been gripping the charcoal so hard that it had split in two. She breathed deeply and relaxed her fingers, letting the charcoal fall to the table. She closed her sketchbook, the 265th in a lifelong series, and placed it slowly back into her bag. She got up, retrieved a new one from the half full box, and wrote her name on the cover. #266. She opened it to the first page and stopped. What was she going to do? Fill this one with drawings too? She couldn't just draw herself a friend, not anymore. It had taken a toll on her, that loss. She'd never been truly lonely before... well, before. She'd always had her art. But now it was just that, art. Lines on a page. Beautiful art, incredible art, but art nonetheless. It wasn't real. Ashlynn couldn't run from her life forever. Eventually she had to face it. And now, she had no friends beside her.

Well, a voice in her head said, Seamus... No. She'd never even met Seamus. For all she knew, she had dreamed it all. Well, alright, that was unlikely, but still. She didn't even tell him her name, real or false. It wasn't real. But why not dream a little longer. that was all she did nowadays anyway. Losing herself in books, movies, art, YouTube, memories of home. But she could still pretend. Pretend that she was Ashlynn Scarlett, an art teacher in London. Pretend that this was her life, and always had been. Because now it was. And if she could lose herself in her dreams, it wouldn't be so bad.

She wasn't entirely certain how it happened, but when Ashlynn opened her eyes, in front of her was the most realistic painting she had ever seen in this world. If not for the texture of the paint, it could have passed for a window into a real scene. She had to reach out and touch the boy's face to be sure. But it was still just a painting. Of Seamus.

"Wow."

Ashlynn spun around, nearly falling from her stool, but a warm hand steadied her as she slipped. She slowly looked up to see the boy who had startled her. Who had been watching her. Who she had just painted.

Seamus. Blushing furiously.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. It was just so mesmerizing, watching you work, that I, uh, well...I just couldn't stop watching. Do you know how beautiful you are when you paint? You slip into this trance thing, and you sway slightly like you're dancing and you paint with your eyes closed and..." Seamus seemed to realize he was blabbing. "Sorry. I'll just, uh, well, I'll shut up now.

"Did you just call me beautiful?" The words slipped out before Ashlynn knew they were there. Seamus Gorman had walked in on her painting a portrait of him, and she wanted to know if he thought she was pretty. Gosh, what was wrong with her?

"Well, I, yes?" Seamus was blushing even more now, if that was possible.

"How long have you been here?" How long had she been painting? She couldn't even remember getting out her brushes. It had been a long time since she had slipped so deeply into this trance.

"You mean here as in this universe? Or here as in London? Or like this street? Or do you mean here, hear, as in this room, or... I'm blabbing again, aren't I."

"How long have you been watching me?"

"The better part of a year now-" Seamus clearly hadn't meant to say that.

"Sorry, a year?" Had he been watching her teach classes?

"Well, I kind of, um, well, I walk by every morning and, uh, well..." He trailed off.

"That''s why you looked so familiar. You walk by here. Every morning. To see me?"

"Your art... Erm, well. Yes. To see you." Ashlynn cocked her head in a bird like gesture. Seamus seemed to be waiting for her to say something, so she nodded slowly. If there ever was an unexpected change, this was it. But maybe this time it was a change for the better. Maybe not all changes had to be as bad as the one that happened a year ago.

"Well... What do you think then?" Ashlynn gestured to her sketch pad, which was where she'd been painting. How fitting. A brand new sketch pad for what seemed to be a new chapter of her life. And maybe one that included Seamus. Speaking of, Seamus was speechless. Ashlynn herself was used to her artwork, but she knew that to anyone else it seemed, well, incredible. There was simply no other way to put it. "I'll take your silence as a compliment."

"Oh! Erm, yeah, yes. Yes." He turned to me, suddenly able to speak properly, if only for one sentence. "This artwork defies words, Miss Incredible." Ashlynn winced visibly as old pain flickered across her face.

"Maybe... maybe just call me Ash... please."

"Of - of course. Sorry." He blushed again. "You're probably hungry, you've been here all day-"

"All day?"

"Erm, yeah. All day. Um, I was wondering, um, did you uh, want to, maybe, um, go to dinner with me?"

"Is that a date?"

"If you - if you want, maybe? Yes? Yes. Yes it is."

"I don't - I haven't - well, I-" Now it was her turn to stutter.

"It's ok." Seamus looked resigned. All the light had gone from his eyes.

"No, Seamus, I, I would love to, more than you know, but-" Just as the light returned to Seamus's eyes, Ashlyn's eyes closed and she slipped from her stool, just barely caught by Seamus, inches from the floor.