The Soul Painter [completed]

-Chapter Twenty-One-

Location: Central

Nothing more of Femi has changed in color since her eyes. Then again, she hasn't had another case of the pain. She has told me that she always hurts, but that isn't what I'm talking about. 

Today she's not the happiest of beauties. I can tell by the way she's staring at the wall. The way she glares at the outline of the hummingbird makes it very easy to tell that she's frustrated. The hand that holds her paintbrush twitches in irritation. 

"What's wrong?" I ask, not bothering to stop what I'm doing. I've never had a deadline to fix something before today. The guy said he needs this pickup running smoothly before this Tuesday, which is four days away, and I have yet to discover why the motor chokes out directly after you try to start it. I checked the fuel pump and the fuel lines yesterday, so it's not them. What did I get myself into when I agreed to work on this thing? 

Femi doesn't turn her head to look at me, but instead continues to glare at the outline of the bird. "Nothing. And everything. This thing isn't coming together like I want it to, but I don't know how I want it to. I've lost my inspiration, and I have no idea how to find it again." She pauses, then shrugs her shoulders. "That, and I'm hungry."

"Well I'm sorry about your inspiration, but I can't say I understand much. It doesn't take much creativity to fix a motor. Although—"

She cuts me off. "Do we have any bread left?"

"Well..." I frown, trying to remember. I realize that I don't know, since it's been a day or so since I've eaten. "I don't know."

"Peanut butter?"

I sigh. "Femi, you know that I don't check up on groceries very often. I could probably live off a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread comfortably for a week."

She gives my shoulder a shove as she makes her way back to the other part of the house. "That's why you're so skinny."

"Actually, that would be genetics," I argue.

"No, that would be an issue of your self-negligence," she calls back.

"My self-negligence? Have you seen your hair lately?"

She pops back through the door with a couple pieces of bread and a nearly empty jar of peanut butter. "No, but I have seen yours."

"Hey!" I complain, running my hands through the offending locks. 

She sits down a foot or so away, facing me. "Never mind, mechanic. Your hair is perfect." She slaps peanut butter onto one of the pieces of bread and then folds it in half. It droops as she holds it out to me. "Here."

I shake my head. "I'm not hungry."

She cocks her head at me. "Is this about your hair?"

"No!"

"Then eat it."

I wipe my greasy hands on my thighs before I take it from her. "Thanks, Femi."

"You're welcome." She smiles gently, the blue in her eyes so stark against the gray of her skin.

Love me. I do. 

"I love you, too," I say, downing the last bite of my peanut butter fold-over. She continues to watch me, smiling when I do. I love her smile when we're both doing good. It's painful to see when she's hurting, but right now it's perfect.

She licks a smear of peanut butter from her thumb before catching me with those eyes again. "Do you, like you say? Or are you just a lonely boy who lives in a house full of machines?"