The Way You Look At Me

Chapter 17

-Tatianna’s Way-

After the meeting, my club mates agreed to my suggestion. So I guess this is it. The Painter’s Society will be hosting an exhibit entitled Paintings Full of Sunshine. Everyone is excited about it and decided that each should paint two original artworks to be displayed and auctioned off. We decided to give fifty percent of what we could collect to charity.

On this lazy Wednesday afternoon after class, I roamed around my bedroom, looking for a painting to contribute for the exhibit. A corner of my room is dedicated to be my painting area, since sometimes  I am too lazy to go to the art room.

I glanced around the different paintings that I’ve done since I learned how to pick up a brush. My brother was the first one to discover my talent. Ever since he’ll give me different sets of paint in all possible colors and brushes in all shapes and sizes. He even offered me some painting classes from renowned artists but I gently turned it down. It’s not like I’m too proud to learn. It’s just that I like my style and it makes me unique in some way, and I don’t want something to change that. My brother respected my decision and supported me in all of my endeavors, since my parents are too busy to pay attention to their only daughter.

I touched the very first painting that I’ve drawn. I was around four at that time. It looks nothing much, just blotches of colors that formed what looks like a mountain and a sun with some clouds here and there. I turned the canvass around and saw my brother’s beautiful handwriting on a piece of paper attached at the back.

Tatianna Louisse Caltor’s first painting. July 23, 20XX. My little sister is amazing! Though it looks simple, it’s a great work, coming from a four year old. Big brother is proud of you! You are going to be a great artist someday, little sis :)

-Tristan Joseph Caltor

A small, fond smile formed on my lips. He always made it a habit to write all about my paintings, placing the date of completion, and throwing some comments here and there. I got motivated to paint more because I love to see the proud look on my brother’s face.

I looked around more, realizing that the latest painting that I’ve drawn was around last year… a month before Tristan’s death. Since then, I felt like I couldn’t draw or even paint anymore. But still, I stayed in the club. Good thing my fellow club mates understood my situation. They believed in me and made me their president even if they knew it’s been a long while since I painted.

He was the one who bought my painting in last year’s exhibit of the Painting Society. I remembered clearly how agitated he looked when another person wanted to buy my work too. But then he won in the end, and now it hangs in his abandoned room.

Since he died, I never went to his room anymore, since the mere thought of him gone would leave me crying until I drop dead from exhaustion. But now, I felt a small courage in me, telling me to go there. And so I did.

I turned the knob slowly, inhaling before finally entering my beloved big brother’s room. It’s bigger than mine, and it looks like he never left. I made sure that the maids would still clean his room and his things are never altered. For a guy, he’s really neat to the point it’s an OC of his.