I finish grouping everyone and hand out the worksheet I want them to start on. I wait a few minutes to see if she returns but worry I've embarrassed her. When she doesn't return, I decide to go after her.
I'm not exactly sure what I expected to see when I found Aspen, but it wasn't this. I know an anxiety attack when I see one. I've experienced them myself, but she's … she's a mess. It seems unfair that such a beautiful and talented woman has to suffer this way. From the outside, I never would've guessed she held this kind of pain.
I don't believe her in the least when she says she'll be fine. I want to comfort her, wrap my arms around her so she doesn't have to handle it alone. But I barely know her and it'd be highly inappropriate given I'm her professor. I tell her to take her time and wait anxiously in the classroom for her to come back.
When the groups finishes, and everyone is seated again, I discuss what I want them to do next. Although I was able to look at their portfolios beforehand, I want to see how well they each do with a shortly timed assignment. They all grab their supplies and sit back in their seats except Aspen. She stays standing.
It's hard to not notice her as it is, but now I'm able to watch her while she draws. She moves her hand so effortlessly as her eyes follow every stroke her pencil is making. I walk around the classroom silently watching, but I stop just behind her as she begins to shade in her outline of a tree trunk. I can't tell which number from the questionnaire she's drawing from, but just the intensity of her focus tells me how important it is to her.
She grabs her putty rubber to lighten an area near a branch when she finally senses my presence behind her, but I tell her not to stop. I could watch her draw for hours. Just the simple act of watching her eyes and body captivates my attention to the point that I forget we aren't alone.
Students begin filing out at exactly eight p.m. They have plenty of time left to work on their project before it's due, but that doesn't stop the wave of sadness that overcomes me as I watch Aspen pack up her supplies and leave. Her portfolio is so somber, but in person, she radiates light. She's friendly and gives off that carefree vibe on the surface, but when she's lost in her work, her persona changes into something completely different.
I'm just not sure what that is yet.
I pick Natalia up from school every day in between my classes. She was able to continue attending the same school after she moved in with me, but it hasn't been an easy transition. She's been getting into trouble for talking back, pushing girls in the locker room, and even throwing food in the cafeteria.
They've been pretty sympathetic given her situation, but she's still had to do detention after school multiple times. I know there's nothing I can say that'll help her feel better or give back what's been taken from her. I know there's nothing I can do that'll change it either. And that guts me.
"Hey, Short Stuff," I say as she hops into the passenger side. "What number?" I ask her every day after school. It's a rating system from one to ten that I came up with to so she'd talk about her day.
She tosses her backpack into the backseat and scowls at me.
"If you're expecting me to read your mind, this could take a while."
She huffs at me. "It was an eight … " Which means her day was going quite well. "Until Cooper Turner spit on me." So much for that.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Oh, for fucks sake.
I turn and angle my body toward her. "What happened?"
She hands me a piece of paper that was concealed in her palm. "Here."
I take it and pull it open. My eyes move quickly over the note, and I gasp.
"Natalia Hampton!" I'm biting my lip to avoid bursting out in laughter. "You said what?"
"I said he had an itty, bitty penis and that must be why he's such an obnoxious airhead."
"Why?"
"Because he's compensating for having a small-"
"Not that! Why did you say that?"
"Well, it's not a lie."
"I don't think talking about those body parts in school is appropriate."
"Whatever."
"So now what? You have another week of detention?"
"I guess. I don't know why Mrs. Fields got so upset. He's the one who spit on me!"
"Before or after?"
She frowns and it's all the answer I need.
Tonight she has her therapy appointment, so I wait outside the room for forty-five minutes while Dr. Kingston tries to teach her ways of dealing with her feelings by using a healthier outlet. Six months of therapy later, and we're still trying to help her manage the way she acts out.
Not that I can really blame her, though.
Once her session is over, we drive home, and I start browsing in the kitchen for something to make for dinner.
"Shit, I forgot to go grocery shopping," I mumble as I stare at the half-empty orange juice container and Chinese takeout boxes in the fridge.
"You shouldn't swear."
I slam the door shut, not realizing she was behind me. "You shouldn't creep up on people," I tease, spinning around to her sitting by the breakfast bar.
"Grandma says swearing is the devil's voice."
"Well, you should ask Grandma what whiskey is then."
"I already did," she responds matter-of-factly. "She says it's the Lord's blood."
I snort. "Grandma's a liar." I begin opening cupboards and digging through boxes of food.
"I know." She grins. "So what are you making? Or should I say … burning?"
"You know … for an eleven-year-old-"
"I'm almost twelve," she interrupts.
"Whatever. For an almost twelve-year-old, you have quite the smart-mouth."
"I prefer gifted."
"I prefer it shut."
She narrows her eyes at me and sticks her tongue out.
I opt for pizza delivery instead of cooking until I get to the grocery store again. And even then, I'll probably grab frozen pizzas and boxes of mac 'n cheese.
Back in Ohio, there was this small family-owned deli and sushi bar that I always stopped at on my way home from work. But now that I have Natalia with me, I actually have to remind myself to hit the store.
Either that or I'm going to go broke from ordering in seven days a week.
CHAPTER THREE
ASPEN
I arrive at my night class early Thursday, knowing the room will be empty beforehand. I can paint in my apartment, but there's just something about the atmosphere and being in a room filled with other paintings. I grab an easel and settle in with my ear buds while I paint.
Most recently, See You Again by Wiz Khalifa has hit home for me. I've had it on repeat for several days and every time I draw or paint, I'm able to tune everything out when I listen to it and think happy thoughts about her.
The lyrics inspire me to paint an abstract of her face. I use the entire canvas to lightly outline her features-her heart-shaped face, almond-sized eyes, and the strong bridge of her nose.
Once I finish, I lightly draw a line down the middle of her face to emphasize her different layers-happy on the outside, depressed on the inside.
I grab a tube of red paint and squeeze it out onto the palette. I swirl a round brush into the paint before outlining the lines and angles of the face.
I focus on one side at a time. Warm colors with light shading reflect her outside personality the best, so I add in some yellow with a blending brush over her cheeks and jawline. I add in some white to create the lighter shading around her eye and slant of her nose. Once I'm finished with that, I add some teal paint and use my fan brush to accent the cheekbones with the yellow underneath it to create a lighter allusion.
I finish up the left side with my pointed round brush and paint in the eye blue. Once that's complete, I smooth everything together with a flat brush and wait for it to dry. I stand back and study it for a moment before deciding I'm satisfied with it for now. It feels like her-happy and energetic-the teals and yellows of my past life.
I begin the other side with a base coat of purple and then layer a light shade of blue on top. This side of the face is meant to be dark and oppressed-her inner personality-so I add in the shading to exaggerate the features more.
I wait until it dries a bit before adding another layer of blue, this time a couple shades darker than before to accent the cheekbones. I run the angular flat bristles alongside the jawline and up near the ear, making the blue stand out more than the purple. Once I'm done with the blue, I blend in the white to outline the other side of the nose and eye.
The song continues repeating in my earbuds as I sing some of the lyrics aloud. I take a step back and look at the two sides as a whole.
I tilt my head left and right, checking out the different angles before deciding to add another layer of blue to the right side.
I quickly glance up at the clock and see I still have a good twenty-five minutes before I need to clean up and pretend I was never here. Just as I'm dipping a clean flat brush in the paint, I feel someone behind me.