"Mom, I'm hungry." I whine, slamming the door shut.
"You didn't get breakfast?"
"No, Mother. I woke up when you called, got dressed, and here I am. There was no time to stop and make an omelet."
"Lose the attitude." She digs around in her bag. "Here you go."
"A protein bar? This is replacing my scrambled eggs and toast?"
I groan, but undo the wrapper anyways, thankful to have something in my stomach. A few moments later the Rijksmuseum, comes into view. The building is massive, with a huge pond in the front, and reminds me more of an elite university than a museum. Once inside, I break off to explore on my own.
I always thought museums were a place to go alone, not with other people. You can go at your own pace without having to wait for anyone or asking anyone to wait for you.
It's fairly crowded–lots of people on their holiday vacations–so I have to maneuver around people blocking the exhibits. Time feels nonexistent in the museum. It feels like I've only been here for fifteen minutes, but when I glance at a clock mounted on the wall, it's almost noon.
Tired from all the walking, I take a seat to look at the works in the room. I train my eyes on a sketch of ships at sea: crashing waves, pencil strokes of the mast, the lighting, the details, the smudging.
"You never draw anymore."
I jump in my seat a little clutching my chest, then see my mother sit down beside me.
"I don't really have the time anymore."
It's a lie. Between nights alone in the hotel and hours on the tour bus, I have plenty of time to take out a sketchbook.
"I bought you this." She slips a sketching journal and pencil and eraser set into my lap. "Saw it in the gift shop. Thought you might want to...pick it up again."
"Thank you."
My mom pulls me into a hug. My eyes flutter closed, and I hug her back. It seems like a small gesture–the sketchbook, the hug–but it means the world to me.
"Where to?" I ask, when the moment is over.
"Liz and I were thinking. Van Gogh Museum, lunch, Vondelpark, shopping, then see the end of the band's show before hitting the bus."
"What's Vondelpark?" I raise my eyebrows.
"A perfect place for you to make some new additions to your journal."
The Van Gogh museum is far more modern looking than the Riksmuseum. I admit that Van Gogh is not my favorite artist. His art is beautiful, but it does not resonate with me as much as Monet and Picasso, so I am a bit bored roaming around the museum.
I pull out my telephone and meet my mom and Liz at the café. We leave our jackets at an empty table and look around at the food options. I'm hungrier than I realized, probably my lack of a proper breakfast, so I pick up a tray eagerly. I decide on a turkey brie and apple sandwich, fruit cup, and scone. I pay at the register then sit down at our table.
"What did you think of the art, Lee?" Liz asks, wiping the corners of her mouth with her napkin.
"It was...lovely. I'm not a huge fan of Van Gogh, but his pieces are still amazing." I let my fork rest on the side of the plate.
My mother rolls into a conversation over the pieces with Mrs. Hemmings.
"So...how far is the park?" I ask, politely interrupting their discussion.
YOU ARE READING
American Love Affair (5 Seconds of Summer fan fiction)
Fanfiction~EDITS ARE IN PROGRESS~ Lee is an average girl with a history of problems. When her mother becomes the publicist of the Australian punk pop band, 5 Seconds of Summer, Lee begins to spend a lot of time with the four Aussie hotties, and being only se...
