Painted Love

The dollhouse

Riley

Paint splatters across the white canvas. My hands move up and down making tiny strokes of purple spread throughout the art piece. The smell of acrylic lingers in the air, it burns in my nostrils but I somewhat like the smell. Taking a small sponge from my paintbrush holder I delicately smear orange paint across the portray before stepping back and wiping my dirty hands on my smock. Mixtures of colors cover it making it look like a big mess; even here and there you can see my handprints.
Crossing my arms I admire my artwork. Today I decided to paint with only Blue, Orange, Purple, and red because of my mood. My art changes with my mood. If I'm happy, I'll paint something with bright colors; but if I'm mad or sad I use darker colors it's simple. Today my mood is in between happy and sad if that makes any sense.

Nobody but my mother understands my art. She's been with me from the day I started painting today. She's noticed every detail about my paintings like if I use too much dark blue or black; she knows something's wrong. But that's what I love about her; She also paints, well rarely, she's more into abstract art like creating beautiful sculptures or making decoration items for the house out of copper wire. It's quite brilliant I say.

I never met my father; all I know about him is that he lives upstate and has a baby named Dillion and a wife named Alexus. Mom never talked about him much, just that he's a horrible man and doesn't deserve to have a family. From what I know he and I look alike, both brown hair and sky blue eyes; mother reminds me every day. Every year around my birthday mom apologizes for my fathers' absence, sometimes she believes that he might even send me a birthday card or call the house wishing me a happy birthday, but nothing arrives in the mailbox and not a single phone rang. Never do I get upset by it, it's normal for me not to have a father figure in my life, it's nothing out of the ordinary.

Looking at my artwork once again; I remove my smock, hanging it on the small wall hook that's located next to the door. Placing my dirty hands on my hips I inhale the scent of acrylic before making my way down the hall; I can hear mother making dinner in the kitchen. "Hungry Riley?" She asks as I enter the kitchen. I nod. "Of course! You know how the smell of paint makes me hungry" Snorting, I sit beside mother, watching her cut carrots to add to her famous carrot soup. "The neighbor kid asked me to ask you if you wanted to help him make a dollhouse for his sisters. He said something about it's for their birthday and it needs to be done before tomorrow" My mother smiles as she pokes me in my forearm. "You mean Adam?" I ask raising an eyebrow. She smiles again shaking her head up and down as a response to my question. Grunting, I place my head on the kitchen counter. "This kid has gotten on my last nerves."

   "Riley! It's a nice thing to do. He just wants help painting it." I turn my head towards my mother. "No; this kid is obsessed with me! That's why I never open the windows in my room, he watches me sleep, mom." Before I could say anything else she laughs. "That's  ridiculous."  Shaking her head she continues to stir the boiling pot of soup. "Whatever. I'm not helping him."

   As those words escape my mouth, my mother quickly shifts her head in my direction. In my head, I knew she was mad, and I wondered how she turned her head like that without getting whiplash. She whispers quietly but anger lingered in her voice. "You WILL help that boy with that dollhouse, and you WILL be nice to him you understand?" Closing my eyes I sigh. "Yes." She grunts then turns back to what she was doing before she started yelling at me.

   Quickly I jump down from my chair and head towards the front door. Grabbing my jacket from the coat rack, I place it around my shoulders. "This is stupid" I mumble to myself as I put my shoes on. Cold air grazes my skin causing small goosebumps to appear on my body as I open the front door. I could hear leafs falling from trees and children laughing while they watch their friends jumping into leaf piles; Admiring my surroundings I see Adam in his front yard playing with his little sisters.