How to Paint Our Skies

How to Have a Battered Smile

Dear Fin,

    The holiday cheer is in the air.  I want it to disappear . . . I want everyone to be as unhappy as I am. Because then I wouldn't be alone, even while I'm surrounded by people. The holiday cheer is suffocating me.

    I found a picture from that night that was mentioned in my last letter. It was you and I. I was in that dress and you're in your suit and you're so handsome. I looked childish; my mother was right, but . . . the way you're looking at me, it proves that there was some point in our relationship that you did love me. I want to know where that fell apart, that's why I'm still writing to you even though it makes me hurt.

    It's like the cutting, pain making the pain better.

    Due to the season, I'm at home, which I'm not fully pleased about. I haven't seen Etta yet, but Claude and Bea arrived yesterday. They're smiling, unlike everyone else in the house. They're like Dementors (I watched Harry Potter today), sucking the happiness out from around them. I wasn't there to greet them since Ailsa had called me on the phone.

    Apparently, her grandson's art studio was impressed by my painting. Ailsa said that her grandson had given her a business card to give to me, apparently the director wanted to meet with me and see my portfolio. It was the best Christmas gift I could've ever received and I found myself crying on the phone.

    "See?" Ailsa had murmured. "I told you everything would turn out for the best in the end, my little painter."

    Things were finally looking up.

    So when Claude and Bea arrived, I was in my art room and I started painting on the floor (since there was only so much room left). 

    I already had a picture in mind as I started to draw on the floor. I wanted to have one of my pictures be of Ailsa, since she was offering me happiness and I wanted to paint something to represent it, which was her. I saw Ailsa, but in all the ways I had seen her: young and old and timeless. Drawing her in one way wouldn't be a justified representation of that wonderful woman, so I decided to add them all. Half of her face would be in color, but as her in present day; the other half would be her in youth, all in black and white.

    There was a knocking on the door as I brought my paints out. "Come in!"

    Bea stepped in, quickly trailed by Claude.

    As soon as I realized that it was them, I hesitatingly stepped away from my portrait. I was already covered in paint from some work I had been doing earlier, so I was wary to touch either one of them. Bea didn't seem to mind, though, because she hugged me so tightly upon sight I thought she was trying to strangle me.

    "Whoa, careful," I murmured, as she threw us off balance. "I mean, it's nice to see you, too, but I wasn't expecting this warm of a welcoming."

    "It's been too long," Bea replied, still holding me.

    "Hi, Claude," I greeted, over her shoulder.

    "Hi, Annalise," he replied, in the same awkward manner.

    Once she let go, Bea started looking around the room, which was somewhat embarrassing. Sure, I didn't mind people being down there, but I didn't really like them looking though my work. Bea explained, "I've never been down here before."

    Upon spotting the unfinished portrait of Ailsa, she froze. "Holy shit. Annalise, did you paint this woman?"

    I blushed. "Um, yeah."

    "Holy mother father of mushroom babies . . . this is so amazing, Annalise! How much do you want for it? I know it's on the floor, but I will rip up the floor boards for it," Bea insisted, pointing at the picture.

    Her praise was causing me to blush even more; before I could respond, though, Claude had. "Bea, I'm sure she . . . oh, wow."

    "Thank you," I murmured.

    "Annalise, this is incredible. Why aren't you selling your work?" Claude asked, examining Ailsa' half-old, half-young face.

    I blushed. "Thank you, I . . . I actually have some, um, interest right now from an art gallery near school. I'm preparing my portfolio."

    "Really? That's fantastic," Bea insisted. "You should've told me!"

    And it was true. At that moment, everything was fantastic . . . maybe I didn't have to live in this shadow anymore. Maybe I didn't have to be alone. Maybe I could be happy, no matter how slim the possibility seemed. Plus it wasn't because of you; it was because of Ailsa, which made it that much better.

    Do you remember when we discussed timelessness in the last letter; about the story you told me about Etta, when she swallowed a watch to become so? Well, I've found it, and I didn't need to consume a clock.

    When I used to get upset, I used to remember you. Your smile, you lips, your eyes, your nose, you hair . . . I used to remember you as you were. But now, I see a little old woman with a battered smile. A smile so similar to mine, even though she's much older. We're one and the same; we're the timeless, which is something I've been looking for.

    Because being timeless isn't about be immortal. Being timeless is about finding humanity, about feeling and experiencing things and aspects of life many have done before you and will do after you. And Ailsa gave it to me.

    I don't miss you.

    Or, at least I don't want to miss you.

    -Annalise.

*

    Hey Reader!

    Notice: this is the result of writer's block . . . sorry it's repetitive after last chapter. After I finish the book, I'll probably change a few details and move it a couple chapters ahead. I had the idea behind this chapter and I'm sorry it didn't fully turn out.

    Chapter's song: "It's Time" by Imagine Dragons. I love the band for one, I really like that such a diverse band is finally receiving some recognition and appreciation in the mainstream music business. This song, in my opinion, is about just standing up and saying this is me. I think it's a great representation of this chapter.

    Thanks for reading!

    Love Your Favorite Liar <3