The Artist And The Spectre

Chapter 4

The guest's dreaded arrival was heralded not by cool boss music, as Rowan had distantly hoped, but by the grating sound of tires on gravel. Her room's charming little round window framed a small white car braving its way up the hill where the house was perched, gleaming like seafoam under the jolly midday sun.

Like Orpheus preparing his descent in Hades' realm, Rowan steeled herself for the trial to come.
She hopped down her bed and swung open the door of her room (she liked to imagine it as her dramatic supervillain entrance, like in a movie. It gave her a mild confidence boost, at least) before dragging herself down the stairs.

Her aunt was already at the door chatting with an elegant dark-skinned lady.

"-you've done a spectacular job with your sunflowers, Yasmin!" 
"Oh, you flatterer you~" said  Rowan's aunt with a giggle, "I do my best! You and the little one both look positively radiant. Speaking of-" 
Yasmin swirled around and beamed at her niece.

"Don't be shy Rowan, come say hi!"

Obligingly Rowan shuffled forward where her aunt introduced her to her friend (Simone) and the latter's hitherto obscured daughter Ava: a bright-eyed, bouncy creature with a bright smile even Rowan couldn't help but find a little charming. As soon as they locked eyes her grin widened, revealing a little dimple in her cheek.

"Hello! You must be Rowan, right? I've heard so much about you!"
"Only good things, I hope." Rowan awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck, offering a tentative smile.
"Duh! Yasmin told my mom you're like, super good at drawing and stuff. That's so cool!"

The young artist couldn't help but puff up a little at the compliment. 
"I mean, I'd say I'm decent. Errr, I could show you, if you want..."

In the corner of her eye she saw aunt Yasmin swell with pride and give her a coy wink before clearing her throat.

"Simone, why don't we old fossils leave the youngsters alone? I made us tea, we can chat in the kitchen. Besides, I so wish to know what has been going on with you and Patrick lately!"

The distinguished lady chuckled and left with her friend. Yasmin pinched her niece's cheek one last time and asked her to show Ava around the house before walking away.

Dutifully she led Ava out in the garden, showing off the tomatoes and delicate buttercups dotting the yard. Then they headed into the basement, which was as new to Ava as it was to her guide, and unearthed a series of well-loved board games of decades past.

"We should totally meet and try these sometime!" Ava had chirped as she showed off  an mysterious old box with a faded dragon on it. It did sound like a good time, and under the sway of the new girl's enthusiasm her companion couldn't help but agree.

Finally they made their way into the upper floor and settled into Rowan's room. At Ava's request she grabbed her sketchbook and sat at her desk; motioning at the other girl to stay put.
Rowan flipped quickly through the pages to find her latest and proudest work: a pastel landscape of the sea.

Before she could find it however a hand abruptly grabbed her arm and yanked her back so Ava could peek over her shoulder.

The suddenness of it all sent Rowan over the edge.
She frantically twisted around, slamming her hand against the other girl's solar plexus to shove her away.

"Don't fucking touch me." She snarled, heart drumming in her ears. "Don't you ever-"

She stopped. 

Ava coughed, beating her fist over her heart a couple times. She straightened, shook her long mane of hair as if to clear her head; then cautiously looked over to her still panting aggressor.
What she saw in her was impossible to tell, but ever the peacekeeper she tried to flash her a somewhat nervous smile as her eyes unconsciously darted to the door.

Hot, unbearable guilt rose inside Rowan.
She tried to apologize, to explain herself, but the knot in her throat sealed her windpipe shut.
Defeated, she hugged her arms to her chest and stared at the floor; desperately trying to pull herself together.

Ava cleared her throat.
"Ahem, are you... okay?"

The small, misshapen bundle of misery previously known as Rowan nodded. Awkwardly it bent up to pick up the sketchbook and offered it to Ava without ever meeting her eyes.

For the rest of the visit the young artist limited herself to speaking in monosyllables, shame and awkwardness choking out anything else despite Ava's best efforts to return to their previous banter.

When the time to leave came they both walked silently to the door. Ava waved awkwardly from the car window as Simone drove away.

Rowan could feel Yasmin's worried gaze boring holes in her back. 
She mumbled something about painting and sunsets, grabbed her backpack and hurried out the door before her aunt could ask what happened.

The girl's long shadow stretched behind her on the grass as she made her way to the sea.