Gone (Scomiche)

The Art Center

I had always loved the dates Scott and I went on.

He always had something entertaining for us to do. It wasn't ever an ordinary, run-of-the-mill date. For example, once we went skiing. Once we went to an aquarium. Once we went horseback riding. Once we went rockwall climbing at a kids' center. Whatever we did, we always had fun. So when Scott said he had a new idea for a date, I wasn't really surprised. I was just curious.

"Dress in crappy clothes," he instructed, perched on the stool next to me.

"But Scottie, I don't have crappy clothes! I always dress stylish."

He chuckled, his gaze shifting from the counter to me. "You're right. You slay the scene."

"Uh, duh I do."

"Well, you can borrow one of my shirts then. You might drown in it, though." Scott stood and slowly stepped backward until he reached the carpet of our apartment, leaving to get ready.

I shrugged. "I dont mind."

"Good, we'll leave at 4:45." He turned to exit the room.

"Wait. Scott?"

He swiveled back around from where he was standing. "Yes, Mitchell?"

"Where are we going?"

He winked before walking out of the room. I shook my head and smiled, then continued to check my social media sites.

The time was 5:16. I remember that specifically because when I looked at the time, it reminded me of May 16th which is my cousin's birthday. I was sitting in the passenger seat of Scott's car in a big red t-shirt of his. I was wearing old pants I didn't care about much. Scott was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. The radio was blaring and we were singing along to it, changing the tune a bit and blending our voices as we often did. A commercial came on and Scott turned the volume down so we couldn't hear it.

"Why are we going out of town?" I questioned, confused. He stared straight ahead with a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Are you taking me out to murder me and hide the body?"

He laughed. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing. You caught me."

Horrified even though he was laughing, I kept my mouth shut until we arrived at a building labeled THE ART CENTER and then in smaller letters: in memory of Charlie Stocker. We miss you, buddy. exactly ten minutes later.

"Scott....?"

He unbuckled his seatbelt and ran to my side of the car to open the door for me.

"Oh god, people are gonna see me in these clothes?" I croaked, looking through the huge windows where I spotted people glancing at us.

"Yeah, but I'm sure they're dressed the same. Now come on!" He grabbed my wrist and dragged me through the doors and into a large room with white, tiled floors. There was a variety of colors splattered across the floor, and in the middle laid a large canvas. The walls were originally white, but now marked with paint as well.

"What's this?" I asked, not looking to Scott, but staring at everything. In the corners of the rooms were multiple paint cans and different kinds of paintbrushes. We were alone in this room and I had no idea why or what we were about to do. After a minute or so, a man walked in wearing a forest green smock, already covered with dried paint in all sorts of colors.

"Welcome," the man said. "I'm Rory Sansoon and I'll be your supervisor and instructor for the evening."

He had a mop of brown hair on his head and appeared to be in his early thirties.

"What will we be doing exactly?" I wasn't quite putting the pieces together.

"Splatter painting? Isn't that what you guys signed up for?" Rory queried, almost concerned. As if he'd made the mistake.

"Yes," Scott answered. "We did. I just didn't tell him."

Rory chuckled, "Oh I see."

"So I'm Scott," he introduced, extending his hand to Rory. "And this here is Mitch."

I shook Rory's hand then whispered to Scott, "You signed us up for splatter painting lessons?" There wasnt a set tone in my voice, I was just asking.

"Not lessons, it's freestyle. He's just here in case we have questions. He also knows techniques if we want to try any of those. When we're done, they take the canvas and hang it up in the lobby for everyone to see. It's pretty cool."

I smiled. "Where'd you hear about this?"

Scott wiggled his eyebrows. "I have my resources."

"So let's crack out the paint, shall we?" Rory bellowed, stopping me before I could tell Scott to stop being creepy. Well, it probably wasnt a bellow, but the room echoed, making it seem more intimidating than it actually was. He moved swiftly around the room, opening cans of paint. There was purple, red, black, yellow, a light green, blue (a few different shades), pink, and orange. "Pick any paintbrush you want and when you're done, just toss it on the floor."

"Why would you toss it on the floor? It stains it," I pointed out, gesturing to the floor full of paint spots.

"It makes memories. And that way people can come back in here and look at them saying 'hey, I made that.' It's just a cool something extra we do here at The Art Center," Rory explained.

It made sense. I grabbed a huge brush and dipped it into the lightest shade of blue. I began to flick it, but it ended up everywhere but the canvas.

"More in the wrist," Rory advised.

I tried again, but it landed on my shirt.

"I told you you'd need old clothes," Scott bragged, laughing.

I attempted again (after rolling my eyes) and still no luck. Scott was laughing quite hard by this point, but he came up behind me and put his arms around me. My body tensed up at his touch. I could feel his breathing on my ear as he put his left arm around my ribs and his right alongside my right arm. He grabbed under my wrist and began to guide me. He moved my it up and down, and sure enough, the paint landed on the canvas.