Can't I Touch Your Heart?

Chapter 62 Just Went Worse

It was late in the morning of the first day of December. Mr Laghari stood outside the bathroom, waiting for Rhea. Rhea looked at her face in the mirror and observed her skin carefully "What the hell! I got a pimple again?" She said to herself "I hate puberty," She sprayed half a bottle of deodorant on herself and walked out of the bathroom.

"Shall we go?" Mr Laghari glared at her. She chuckled nervously and picked up her bag. It was the big day. The first round of World Art completion prelims. She was well prepared. She had all her paintbrushes and paint packed up inside that bag. The canvas would be provided by the organisers themselves. Mr Laghari work was to drive her to India Gate. That's where the competition was to be held, in the green parks.

Rhea sat in the car and looked outside as they drove. She knew what she was going to paint, she had decided it last night. They arrived at the destination and she stepped on the grass. There were so many people around, everyone was arranging their easels and paint.

She felt the anxiety hit her hard. She felt nervous and her mind was in a state of panic. She walked towards the administrative counter where they were distributing the canvas boards. She took her ticket and signed the confirmation papers. Then, she carried the canvas board to one of the stands. She fixed the board on the stand.

She looked into her watch. Fifteen more minutes and the competition would start. They had three hours to complete their painting. She took out the paint from her bag. People began gathering in the audience stairs. Everyone had set their eyes on the participants. She closed her eyes and pressed her arms on her ears.

She only focused on her breath.

'This is for you, Ember,'

She breathed out and opened her eyes. She looked at her glass paintbrush and then looked at the canvas board as she wrapped an apron around her waist. She opened her bottle and filled some water into a bowl. Everyone was being cheered on by their family or friends. She turned and looked at her father. He was looking at her. He wanted her to lose, so that she could give up on painting once and for all. 

"Thank you so much for coming here tonight, everyone. Before we start, remember that it's not always about victory. No matter who loses or wins today, don't ever give up on what makes you happy. You are all artists. You were created to create!" A young man said on a mic, "You may begin now, good luck!"

Rhea pressed the paintbrush on the canvas. Her hands were shaking but she painted nevertheless. It had been ten years since she felt a feeling like this. With the feeling of breathlessness and blood gushing through her veins, she was alive again. A smile slowly covered her face as she painted. The chief guests moved across the site while looking at people's paintings.

At a point, she drifted away from what she had planned to paint. Her hands were moving on their own, the colours seemed to blend in aggressively, time was running like grains of sand sliding through an hourglass. The sky seemed to turn red, her mind was not bound by the rules of space and time anymore, she felt like she was in another universe, where she was alone on a psychedelic feud. Her hands were at work even as she lost her mind. She could have explored more but suddenly she heard sirens and came back to the present. But, she didn't realize the painting was complete. Time was up and everyone was asked to put their paintbrushes aside and paste their tickets behind their boards.

Rhea did the required and signed her board. Then, she submitted it and started washing her paintbrush. She got up and looked at the crowd. Her father wasn't there anymore. She looked around as the people started dispersing.

There was a scent of sweet autumn clematis. She turned aside and found Ember standing afar, among the crowd. She looked into Ember's eyes and he gave her a thumbs up with a smile. She felt like crying. She just wanted to run towards and hug him tightly. It all felt like a fatal adventure. But she could paint again. She could feel again and that feeling was worth all this anxiety. E