Little Bitch

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

I was in my painting shack, sitting on my stool staring at a blank canvas. It was late at night and I should probably have been in bed right now, trying to fall asleep, but I'd found myself walking over here.

And now I was just sitting down, staring at nothing.

I'd been thinking about painting all afternoon long.

Lexi had given me her art as a birthday present. So I'd been thinking that maybe I should give her mine too.

But what should I paint for her?

My chest? That would probably make her happy. But then, I didn't think that would be something she could hang anywhere.

At least, for the good of my own mental health.

It also felt like if I did a six feet tall portrait of her as a present, she would not be happy. It didn't feel like she was the kind of person that wanted to see her face staring back at her every time she turned a corner in her home. She didn't draw herself. At least, I hadn't seen anything in the art work she had shared with me.

People often did self portrait, but hers were nowhere to be found. That was another thing interesting about her. I was pretty sure Doctor Boseman would have a very psychoanalytic response as to why she did that.

I didn't do auto portraits either. I was aware that I was good looking. But I'd hated myself for so long that I didn't really care about that. Anyway, I had no powers over my looks, so it felt vain and futile to be proud of that or to boast yourself because of that.

So, I was still at a stand still. What was I supposed to paint for my girlfriend that would be a suitable birthday present?

I really didn't want to have to resort to painting my chest.

I swivelled a few more times on my stool, staring at the ceiling, hoping I could find an answer there, when my phone rang.

I smiled before even looking at the caller ID. I knew who was calling me in the middle of the night.

I answered, "Missing me already?"

"Always."

I had been about to say something silly, but her tone stopped me.

"What is it Pumpkin?"

"Nothing..." she trailed, her voice soft.

"So, you're just randomly calling me at two in the morning because you miss the sound of my voice?"

"Yes," she replied feebly.

"Pumpkin," I pressed.

She sighed, and finally explained. "I was putting stuff back in my closet and I found a box with old pictures in it and... I just miss my mom."

"Oh, Pumpkin." My reply was automatic, my heart aching.

We'd talked about this during our date, about memories and her missing her family and how things were before. She tried to tiptoe around mentioning her mom, but the hurt was still evident.

"It just sucks. I wish I could just be angry with her, you know. I wish you'd get like one emotion, and the one I pick for her is anger. I don't want to miss her."

"But unfortunately, you're not Tinkerbell."

"Unfortunately," she answered, chuckling just a tiny bit, but the hurt was still clear in her voice. She'd been crying. Maybe I should have gone over her place tonight. She wouldn't have been alone. "I wish I could just call her and talk to her without feeling like I somehow lose if I do that. Like, if I talk to her, then I forgive her, and if I forgive her she wins," Lexi added.