She gnawed her lip restlessly, energy surged, a turmoil of emotions struggled for room on the limited canvas space. Feeling as though without an outlet her very being would overflow she left her easel and paints as they were and ran. Kaia exited the small work space she rented for nearly all of her limited paycheck each month, a voice shouted after her. The voice continued to scream and threats of eviction hung limply in the humid night air, Kaia pulled a caramel from her pocket.
Shrugging on her hood she hid her flame red hair and sank further into the darkness of the street.
Soon she found herself by the ocean’s shore, often she came here, to the brink of her world, to think and find inspiration. Tonight inspiration was not the problem and instead she found her soul struggling for a means to express itself. No canvas could hold the life of color and texture that throbbed behind tearful eyes. Graffiti would allow her the space but it was to public, too inconvenient and too illegal, which might not have been such an issue if she would be able to revisit the site often enough to satisfy her need for closure.
For days now focus had escaped her as frustration built and fueled her actions. Not since she had discovered painting as an outlet for her soul had she been so overwhelmed by her own thoughts. Emotions swelled to life in every cell of her body, the swarming colors shimmered beneath the skin that bound and contained. Removing worn sneakers she stashed them in the brush before proceeding to walk barefoot along the shore of the frigid Atlantic. A mile of placing one foot before the other found her standing amid jagged rocks as beach front turned to cliff side property. Before her, illuminated, was a lot she had often come to for refuge. Once a library the building had been torn down and the reconstruction had just been finished. The yet unoccupied building was somewhat Victorian in its style, with a great whitewashed brick wall facing the surf. Finding herself next to the wall she realized that she had already begun inspecting it as though to use it as an easel for her creativity. All in a moment she dismissed the idea and once again found herself convinced of its brilliance. Abandoned as it was, with the immense makeshift canvas facing away from the road it could be weeks before anyone found it and repainted it. She would be able to express herself in peace and there would be no need for rent so the paints she had forfeited could be replaced.
Satisfied she glanced at her watch, and took off running for home barely remembering to double back for her shoes. She slipped through the back door and headed for bed, late as it was she took the time to change into a pair of clean pajamas a luxury on which she insisted. An ominous creak of her floorboards alerted her to the presence of her mother who, judging from her irritated silence was aware of her breach of curfew.
Cracking an eyelid she found her mother holding her own plain black T-shirt in her hands. No doubt she had smelled it for alcohol, but of course had found only the pungent odor of oil based paints. Disappointment was plastered across her mother’s face as per usual, not at having a daughter who broke curfew but at one who dared to have so pathetic a social life as her own. Her mother’s presence was removed but the tension of her visit remained, Kaia fell into a restless sleep with the pressure of impending explosion abolished and the weight of her mother’s lack of acceptance sent to replace it.
A groan of effort and a mental cringe at the sight of 8:30 AM found Kaia standing before her mother, matching her silence she gave her a kiss on the cheek and headed for the breakfast table where she paused only to grab a muffin and her book bag.
“Where are you to in such a hurry?”
“Nowhere,” a supercilious face answered her pitiful attempt to defer the question, Kaia sighed in defeat and prepared herself for the resounding disappointment that would surely follow, “to paint…”
“Then why bring your school bag, honestly Kaia you work so hard and when you aren’t studying you hole yourself away to paint. You are so pretty and kind and smart, you could have so many friends if only you’d make an effort.”
The last of the conversation was lost by the expanding distance as Kaia walked on without pause or hesitation. In town she headed straight for the art store where she managed to spend every cent she had been saving for the next month’s rent. She did so despite her daydream of storming out after flashing the money at the snob behind the counter who managed to be both civil and superiorly rude to the adolescent she was obligated to serve. Exiting the store she caught sight of a group of kids from her school. Bulked up as she was by all her purchases a hasty and agile retreat was fruitless so instead Kaia avoided eye contact and tried to ignore the stage whispers of “freak” and “loner” as she passed them.
And painting on a wall next to the sea? Definitely awesome.
