Hey guys, firstly I want to apologize for the lack of updates. How about we choose what days I should upload, I'm kind of free now so I can definitely meet up to your expectations..
And so far I hope this version is better off than the other, please, feel free to vote leave a comment (please this really boosts my moral, you know, encourages me), and share..
Thank you so much for following this book, I appreciate thank you...
💜 here's a heart from me to you (❤)
It was the next day and Donald had already dropped me off at a new home, its serene, quiet and Donald promises me that it is too safe for words, he says it used to be his hideout until he grew up and became old enough to know that his parents always knew where he was and so it wasn’t necessarily a hideout. And today I am expecting my first ever visitor, Miranda.
“You know Miranda for someone who is supposed to be rich you play a small role in society's snobbishness”
“You have got to be kidding me, what do you even mean by that,” Miranda asks her paintbrush still stuck in her mouth. Miranda came over a few hours ago, and apparently, the official art competition/assignment is to be submitted sooner than we had thought.
“Anyways, I love your place, and my brother will be meeting with you soon enough” she immediately catches me off guard by saying what she said next.
“You’re important to your mom, to me” she laughs as she looks at me.
“And so suddenly, to my mom too, apparently my old lady has fallen in love with your sassiness”.
I laugh and let tears roll down my cheeks. She looks at me, and I begin to wonder just when we got to become so tight, so close, Miranda has grown to be one of my favorite persons, and I appreciate her more and more each day.
“You can paint what you feel, right now, the tears in your eyes somehow feels like I liberated you from a bad thought with my words”
I smile, and wipe the tears from my cheeks.
“I don’t know how we became close, but I want to say thank you so much Miranda” I profess my emotions to her and Miranda pulls me in for a hug as I smile.
“You know sometimes I used to wonder what people love about painting,” she says, I laugh out loud, knowing the feeling and feeling grateful that she changed the subject.
“Same here” I say as I remove my gloves, I give up painting. For now though, because no idea has popped up in my head,
“you know my brother writes stuff, in his spare time, so he told me this one time. ‘People hardly recognize the masterminds behind the delicate movies they watch, because they don’t know the simple concepts of writing’ I think it applies to every art when a non-art person comes across an artwork”
“Oh my heavens, did you just drop a strong quote I can actually relate to?” I playfully ask Miranda
“Oh please get over yourself” she replies, taking what she said into seriousness I ask her, “So what you are trying to say is writers are the important people in a drama, or movie series?” I ask.
Miranda walks closer to me.
“What I am trying to say is this” she puts her hand on my shoulder.
“Only people who are willing to learn about something understand the usefulness of the role it plays in society. And again only those who know something actually understand its full concept. In a movie that has a little role to play in painting, I would focus on the painting all day, even once the movie is ended, I will say, and think ‘oh what a wonderful design’ because I understand it. But someone else who knows what it is to act will focus his or her mind toward the actors and actresses, wondering. ‘Oh if only I had his/her acting skills.’ And someone who is into make-up will speak on how insignificant make-up artists play. But to be honest no matter how we try to separate their importance, without each of them being behind and in the camera, we will not be watching masterpieces” she smiles.
But even I know what she is trying to say to me. Miranda continues with her lecture and I pay adequate attention, because she has me wrapped around her fingers now.
“I got to know you, I got to understand you, so did my mom too, and your mom, and even always angry Donald understands you now too” I laugh at the comment before Donald’s name.
“You are one masterpiece, and only if the country of Koura, maybe even the country of America, will get to understand the beauty humans in general have when we are together, then maybe they will see the beauty in us, the masterpiece and beauty in the different colors we share.” she looks at me thoughtfully and I look at her in humble adoration.
“I hear that once you are a white, and you come down to let’s say…. Mmmh Nigeria, you will be welcomed and you will even be a person of interest, now I would say that is the best place to get to understand me. I mean people should not just conclude on something just because they hate it at first sight. Try it on and you’ll see the beauty” I am already tearing up hearing the rest of her lecture; she really has a knack for sudden philosophy.
“Maybe it’s because of this side of me; I am pretty inactive in the role of snobbishness in the society. Hey and stop crying, I love seeing your eyes and your hair dry”
I nod my head furiously.
“I showed my brother a picture of you”
Miranda picks up her brush, “He says you are beautiful enough to make him come on the day of your photo-shoot, which may I say is tomorrow, although it practically means the same thing since he already scheduled his coming for tomorrow. I am so sorry I might not be able to come, you know because of school stuff” Miranda says.
I nod at her, understanding what it means to be choked up with school activities.
“Enough of the lecture and chit chat now let’s see your masterpiece” I say as I walk up to Miranda’s side. On coming close enough to her ‘artwork’ I am shocked at what I see’ “A cow leg!” I scream.
“Miranda, what’s this...”
She laughs.
“I just have problem once it comes to creativity”.
She looks at me her heart heavy.
“How is your eyes project coming along” I grab a seat in the almost occupied by boards room and slump on it.
“well I decided since I do not really know all the feelings known to man, I will draw what I feel it’s good, and leave space around it when hung on the wall so, everyone can give their clue”
She smiles and holds her hands together dreamily.
“Well if I was to suggest I think you should paint what you love, but make sure its human enough to make people understand, and see your affection towards that, Maybe how about how a certain person is seen in your eyes. Just paint something ‘raw’ you know” I stand up and walk towards the kitchen in order quench my dry throat, surprisingly she follows suit.
“It doesn’t have to be a picture that already shows affection. You can draw something that you show affection towards. And let people see that thing through your affection”. Miranda stops in her tracks, she looks at me as though I have given her such a brilliant idea for my assignment.
“Yes! I knew I was destined to meet you” She says and hugs me tightly.
“I guess I will have to stick to the painting of my crush instead, there is a lot of emotions I know I will be able to get from there, starting from the fact that he is a victim of bully, down to the fact that I wish each day that he will get to see just how much I feel for him.”
I burst out in laughter when she completes her sentence. “Well what better way to confess your love than through the work of art”
She hums in agreement to what I just said.
“So what’s up with you and the president’s son” we reach the kitchen that was once empty, but thanks to Don and some external help, there is food in refrigerator, and some bottled water too.
“Sometimes I even forget he is the son of the most influential person in the society” I reply, I throw the cap of the bottle on the sink and rest on the counter.
“You mean because of his attitude around you, or due to the fact that he seems reachable now that he is your friend?”
“The later, he seems so reachable” Miranda nods her head like she gets what I am saying.
“So what makes you remember?” she asks me.
Pausing in my movements I try to think. “I will say his privileges, and his mom, and sometimes the attention he gets”
“Don’t you mean his dad?” Miranda asks.
“No… I mean his mom, I think she could change literally everything without interference from the president so…, I will say she”.
“Wow that is one hidden fact right there” I nod yes in my head, in agreement to what she says.
"Come on let’s head back up and paint some more". We begin walking towards our canvas when she tells me.
“You’re already gonna win this thing, with your pen-name of course, I mean don’t get me wrong but the judges won’t even look at your painting once they find out you’re the actual owner of your painting”
“Well that is so true, but… let’s just paint nice stuff, and make sure to finish what you start, at least Hosea gets to see himself through your paintings.” I say referring to her crush.
**
After Miranda left like two hours ago, I find myself more focused. Crying as I paint what I know is the definition of mom’s love through the eyes, and I just think of my dad’s too. When I think too much of his death, I still can’t believe he’s actually dead.
But worse of all I can’t believe I have moved on so quickly.
**
It is past eight and I am done with both moms’ painting and dad’s painting. And I move on to MR. Bowe’s. My hand begins to shake, but I paint it.
YOU ARE READING
HIS BROWN SKIN GIRL| (EDITED VERSION)✔
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