A New Beginning

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It was Saturday when I woke up. I threw on sweats and an old shirt. I wanted to do something that I hadn't done in three years. I wanted to paint.

I went to the attic and found my old easel and paint set. I hadn't painted since my dad died. He was the one that taught me how, and it didn't feel right to do it without him until now.

I brought my paint set downstairs into my bedroom. I stared out my window, and looked out at the city. My mom made good money, so we had a nice house with a view. I didn't want to paint the city just yet; there was something else on my mind.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember while I painted. I tried to remember the place that my father and I always went to; the meadow in the woods.

He first brought me there when I was five. It was beautiful, with its stream, and the flowers surrounded by the thick trees. I would climb the trees, and we would have picnics, and fish in the stream. I loved it there; it was our getaway from the busy city life. It was a long walk, like a really long walk, but it was worth it. We loved it there, it was our own world, and nothing would take it away.

On the night he died, I couldn't believe that cancer had won. I was thirteen, and I still needed my dad. I wanted to believe that my mom was lying to me.

I broke down crying, and I just ran, like I did the other night. I ran to our spot to see if he was there. I wouldn't stop crying. I made it to the clearing, and he wasn't there. I ran frantically around searching for him, seeing if he was in the trees, or by the stream, but he wasn't. I went to the stream, and I let my tears become a part of its water.

I was there all night crying in the rain by the stream. I eventually fell asleep, and then the next day I woke up. I then knew that he was gone, and I left the meadow forever. I couldn't go there anymore; it was our place, just like how painting was our thing.

I started crying remembering. I finished the painting and sat on the floor crying. My phone started ringing, and I grabbed it.

"H-hello." I said trying to regain my composure.

"Paige, are you ok?" Elliot said sounding worried.

"Yeah, just doing some stuff." I lied.

"No you're not." He hesitated. "I'm coming over."

"No you don't need to, I'm fine."

"It's fine, I need to get away anyways." He said and hung up.

I sat on the floor looking out my window. I was trying to picture what my dad would look like today. Would his red hair be grey by now? Would his gold eyes still have the boyish spirit in them? Would he have let my mother treat me the way she does? I was extracted from my thoughts when the doorbell rang. I hurried downstairs, trying to wipe the tears away.

"Hi Elliot." I said not looking at him and walking to my room.

"Hey, look at me." he said lifting my head up. I looked into his blue eyes, and I started crying even more. He wrapped me in a hug. "What's wrong?"

"I need to show you something, so you can understand first." I said pulling him in my room.

I pointed to the painting and started to tell him the story. I told him everything that I held close to me because I trusted him. When I was done, I was crying worse than when I started.

He grabbed me into another hug.

"Shh, it's ok. I know it's hard, and I'm sorry. Your painting is beautiful, just like you." He said looking into my eyes.

I blushed. It was just too cheesy, but in a good way.

"Thanks," I laid down on my bed and pulled him down with me. I still wanted him to hold me. "For everything."

He kissed me on the head and held me tighter.

"Why did you say you needed to get away?" I asked curious.

He stiffened. "Reasons."

"Oh." I didn't want to push him because it felt so nice being in his arms.

I buried my head in his chest, and I could feel the rise and fall of his chest. He had his arms draped over my neck and his lips on my head. I felt him whisper something in my hair.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, just that this is perfect." He responded.

I smiled into his shirt, I was careful not to touch his shoulder though. It still bugged me because I wanted to know what happened. I knew he would tell me eventually, only when he was ready.

I was about to fall asleep, when I heard my front door opening. I jumped out of Elliot's arms and fell off the bed. He laughed, and I gave him my best death glare. He was still laughing, but he helped me up. I went downstairs to see who entered my house.

I heard someone talking, and Elliot stood in front of me. The intruder turned the corner, saw Elliot and started screaming, which made me scream. I then saw that it was my mom, and I started cracking up. Elliot looked at me like I was crazy.

"Elliot, this is my mom, Nancy, Mom this is my friend, Elliot." I introduced them.

"Nice to meet you. I'm sorry, but you scared me." My mother said shaking Elliot's hand.

"You did a good job of scaring us too Mother." I said under my breath, and Elliot snickered. "So what are you doing home on a Saturday?"

"Got off early because I'm going on a business trip to Miami, and they gave me the day off to spend time with you and get ready." She said.

"Oh, how long?" I asked.

"Two months, but in two weeks is your Holiday Break and, you can spend it with me for two weeks." She said.

"Ok, sounds good." I said smiling. I always wanted to go to Miami.

"I should get going, so you can have some family time." Elliot said walking towards the door.

"Thank you Elliot, for everything." I said while giving him a hug and seeing him out the door.

"He seems nice; what was he doing here?" my mom asked.

"He called when I was upset about something, and he came over to make sure I was ok." I said casually.

"What were you upset about?"

"Let's not spoil are last day. Ok?"

"Alright." She replied.

I helped her pack her clothes, and she helped me pack mine for when I was to go with. I packed plenty of shorts, tank-tops, flip-flops, and bikinis, oh and sunscreen. I put my bags in the closet and loaded my mom's car with her stuff. We went inside and we both made lunch. We ate and then went to get our toes done. It felt good to be pampered. It felt like the old days, before the cancer.

My mother and I would always have a monthly pedicure, and I missed them. I knew the death was hard on her too, but that didn't mean she had to shut me out, or that I had to shut her out. I guess it was because I reminded her too much of my father, Max Mason. It was better now that she was trying. I was finally trying too.

When we returned home, we just hung out the rest of the day, catching up. We fell asleep downstairs watching movies.