Colours of a Sunset

Part 4

Part 4

But the next day he didn't come. I asked Ben why he didn't come over. He said he invited him but he was busy with something, so I brushed it off.

Then he didn't come the next day, or the day after that, or the week after that. Ben never told me why, always coming up with excuses for him, like he's out practicing guitar, or teaching summer lessons to kids who live around his neighbourhood. In two weeks I forgot about him, not completely but Ben kept my mind off him by teaching me how to paint despite not being able to see.

"Am I doing it right?" I'd ask him, each time I swiped my brush into the air, hoping it’d hit the canvas. He stopped guiding my arm after a while, told me to just brush everywhere because no art is bad or is wrong–it’s just art.

“Of course you are, now get back to work.” He replied grimly, and I’d grunt back at him, throwing my paint into the space in front of me.

“What colours am I using?”

“I gave you warm colours–red, orange and yellow. So that’s what you’re using.” I nod, my teeth grazing over my dry bottom lip.

“Does it look good?”

“Art isn’t supposed to look good. It’s supposed to make you feel.”

“You stole that line!”

“I did not!”

“Yes! You did! It’s that book set in the 80’s about two teenagers who fall in love!” I started smiling, and that smile turned into a small laugh. “Lisa made you read it and you wouldn’t stop saying that quote for ten trillion years!”

“I’m only eighteen!”

“Exaggerating my point, here, Ben. Now please tell me the truth, I want to know what it looks like.”

“Truthfully, it looks like a bunch of stringing colours splashed on the canvas. But don’t worry, Art critics would most likely call this ‘beautiful’ and ‘abstract’.” I shrugged and smiled. “Also, I’d like to let you know you painted the colours in sky during a sunset. They’re beautiful.” He added and I felt my mouth quiver, and my fingers shake, my eyes blinked repeatedly.

“Thank you,” I whispered, dropping my paintbrush to the ground, “thank you.”