At first glance, it looked like a scene of pure serenity that follows after a long night of celebration. That was what I told myself as I surveyed my own painting. I hadn't truly understood the piece when I started it, but standing there now, the meaning was painfully obvious. The colors were spread across the canvas with purpose, yet a lingering sense of sadness clung to every stroke. Just like me.
It was Sunday afternoon, and I was alone in the apartment. Stormy, my flatmate, had been gone all weekend with friends, leaving me to the silence. I was hungry; forgetting to eat was a habit of mine when I lost myself in my work. I was lucky to have my own small art corner right next to the window in a shared apartment despite of everything.
standing over the stove, I debated between pasta and toast, when my phone buzzed on the counter. It was Charlie.
"Hey, Eve! Do you want to come over to my grandma's? We're having a huge family gathering and she asks about you all the time." Charlie was apparently with her family this weekend.
I knew Grandma did, and I loved her for it, but I couldn't go. It wasn't about the crowd; it was about the one feeling I spent my life trying to bury: family. Charlie didn't know the depth of the scars I carried, and I wasn't ready to show them.
"You go ahead and give her a kiss for me," I said, keeping my voice light. "I'll go next time. I really need to finish this assignment it's due sooner than I'd like."
Charlie sighed, knowing better than to push, and we said our goodbyes. As I hung up, I noticed a notification sitting on my screen. A text from an unknown number.
I want to take you out, it said.
My first instinct was to mark it as spam, but before I could delete it, the phone began to ring. I picked up, and a faint, deep "Hello" vibrated through the line.
I knew it was him instantly. Why I knew, I couldn't say, but the recognition was a jolt to my system.
"Hey. Are you listening?"
"How did you get my number?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.
"So you do know who I am," Liam said. I could almost hear him leaning back comfortably in his chair. "Interesting. Were you thinking about me?"
"Excuse me?"
"I want to take you out" he repeated, his tone casual, as if he were asking for the time.
"I don't want to go out with you," I responded reflexively. Before he could get another word out, I ended the call.
Standing in my kitchen, I was flabbergasted. I knew he was a playboy or at least, that was the word from Edd and Charlie but that didn't explain the sheer audacity of the call or the text. The phone pinged again almost immediately.
So rude.
I didn't reply. Luckily, the screen stayed dark after that.
I finished my chores in a bit of a daze, but the quiet was broken an hour later by the sound of the front door opening. Stormy was back. She walked past me toward her room, her eyes red and her face blotchy. Before I could even ask if she was okay, she disappeared inside and shut the door.
Curiosity fought with worry. I tried to focus on my assignment, but the muffled sound of crying kept drifting through the wall. Finally, I went to her door and knocked softly.
"Are you okay, Storm? Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine," she called back, her voice thick and strained.
I retreated to my room, feeling the weight of the day settling on my shoulders. It was a weird, unsettling afternoon, and for a long time, I lay there thinking about the text, the baritone of his voice, and the sound of Stormy's crying.