From Fat to Phat

|47| Faceless potrait

PAINT·ING

/ˈpān(t)iNG/

noun:

the process or art of using paint, in a picture, as a protective coating, or as decoration.

The house was mostly glass with an exquisite exterior. However as soon as Jacob walked me into it I felt as if I just just walked into a very expensive hotel. Plain photographs of objects hung in the walls with no family picture in sight. Hell if I hadn't known this is where he stays I would have assumed it was just an expensive looking exotic hotel. Its exterior was black and even though I loved the color the exterior of this house made it seem dark and twisted as if the color was selected for the house to look unwelcoming for ever desired to enter.

"What's wrong?" I tore my eyes away from the insanely clean and organized interior and looked at him.

"You don't like it do you?" He questioned although I felt as if he already knew the answer to his own question.

"It's not that it's just-."

"Cold." He finished off not looking offended at all

"I know the feeling, moved here after my- I mean after it was just Eric and I he didn't want anything to do with our old house." He explained and my heart felt heavy when I imagined an 8 eight old Jacob sad and alone being forced to live here with no family, just a bunch of butlers and housekeepers while his father buried himself with work. After my Mum and sister died he was going to say that but instead he spoke around it. Jacob barely spoke about his father and he refers to him by his name; it didn't take much to figure out they weren't on good terms. And I wondered what broke their relationship.

"You rarely talk about him." I said softly I didn't want to upset him five seconds into walking into his house but my curiosity got the best of me.

"What there to talk about." He replied in a flat tone.

"What's he like?" The look in his eyes said it he didn't want to talk about him and it was safe to assume he was ready to to tell me to leave it the fuck alone but instead he said.

"Hell if I know, I don't think I know anymore of that man than you do." There was no emotion in his voice; he didn't give off anything. He held my hand and linked it his own as he nodded towards the sprawling staircase.

"Come on let me show you what I do know though." He was completely avoiding going into detail and I didn't push instead I felt excited as to being the first person Jacob was going to ever show him art pieces.

There was no one else in the house Brooke wasn't there Jacob didn't know where she was and really he couldn't care any less. We had drove all the way here from my house and I was excited to spend the day alone even if I didn't what we would do after he should me his art, he said he had something planned for the Saturday and wouldn't tell what the hell it was so the anticipation had been weighing on me for a week now.

He led me to a basement which was far to the west wing of the house and it looked like no one ever came to this part of the house. As soon as the door was opened the smell of fresh paint and weed hit my nostrils and when he switched on the lights the room that was in front of me held cans and cans of paint stacked upon one another a huge table with a cloth draped over which was covered in countless stains of paint on top of it there were brushes and pencils and artist palettes and of course an ashtray which where all organized neatly on top of the table. By the corner there was a painting board that held unfinished masterpiece, wooden canvas pieces neatly stacked on the floor and a huge cloth spread across the floor with multiple paint spills on it.