HeartBreaker | Book 1

Paintings on the Wall

Chapter Ten
Paintings on the Wall

Friday night after work I get a text from Desirae.

It's an address to a place in the outer city area, about a 10-minute bus ride away.

I search the location on my laptop, and it's an apartment complex. Did she just text me her home address?

I try not to stress myself out; I've never been to someone else's home before since leaving foster care. I don't think we know each other well enough for her to invite me into her home.

Saturday morning, I take a shower and get dressed to go see Desirae. On the bus, I sit and think with my headphones plugged in.

I am losing control. I try to be a closed book around Desirae and she invites me to her house. Great.

The bus travels to the outer city into the nicer looking neighbourhoods with the clean streets and happy people. I wouldn't mind working here.

I walk up to a very modern looking, red-bricked apartment complex. Man, if Desirae apparently had a 'difficult past' she sure seems to be doing well now.

After all, how 'difficult' could her past have been if she lives in one of the nicer suburbs?

I walk into the building and ring the doorbell when I reach her door. A small old lady answers and smiles.

"You must be Chris, come in."

She welcomes me into a grand industrial apartment with exposed red brick and a view of the ocean and the parks below.

It makes my apartment look like a shoebox.

Desirae pops out from a room, "Chris! Hi, glad you could make it," she smiles.

"This is my grandmother-"

"hello, you can call me gran."

I try not to cringe, the thought of calling a stranger's grandmother my own is a little strange, but I oblique, I can't disrespect the elderly, I have some morals.

"Chris I want you to meet my little sister, Molly," says Desirae holding up the cutest little girl I have ever seen in a long time.

She gives me a toothy smile.

"'Molly' as in the drug?" I say jokingly.

I want to slap myself in the face, I just compared a child to a narcotic. This is the newest low.

"No," smiles Desirae, (thank God) "it's short for Mollani."

Mollani approaches me and I instinctively crouch down into resting position and look into her beautiful green eyes, identical to her sister's.

I try to figure out something to say, but I stare at her blankly, I'm being hypnotised by her eyes.

She takes my hand and shakes it, melting my heart into a sad little puddle. I get up and shake myself off. I can't help it; I have a soft spot for her already; which I'll worry about tonight.

"Now that you've met everyone I want to show you something," says Desirae, grabbing my wrist and dragging me into another room.

Where are her parents? Is this all the family she's got? A toddler and a senior citizen?

She drags me into a studio, the walls are painted as canvases of artworks are hung around the room, each as beautiful as the next.

"So you're an artist?" I ask unsurprised, as my eyes explore the beauty of her creations.

"Well yeah, I dabble in it... I have all my life and-"

"Stop being so modest," I breathe, "you're mad-talented. I've never been to a museum or an art gallery before but I imagine this is the kind of stuff they display," I say honestly.

Her creations are a cross between Michelangelo and Banksy; it shouldn't work, but it does.

I walk across the room, it's then that I only realise there's a window in the corner of the room overlooking the city. If that doesn't prove her incredible artistry, I don't know what will.

I look at Desirae and she's beaming back at me, as if in surprise.

"Well, I'm no Van Gogh, but I do try.... Thank you," she says wholeheartedly.

"Yeah," I nod.

Desirae walks into another corner of the room where pictures are pinned up on the wall.

I walk towards her, the pictures show an attractive young couple, in different settings, smiling at us; full of life.

Desirae looks astonishingly like the younger version of the brown eyed woman who I'm guessing is her mother, but she has her father's emerald green eyes and ginger hair.

"My parents... they were wild adventurers. They lived to explore... they're the ones who inspired me to get into studio art. Every year we'd go to a different place, try different things." Her voice becomes softer and sincerer as she speaks.

"Four years ago, when I was 16, in my final year of high school, they were going to Malaysia; their flight left in the morning. We said our goodbyes and my heart ached to see them go... little did I know that was the last time I'd ever see them again..."

I look at Desirae, my heart sinking as she spoke, she stares at her parent's photographs, as if reminiscing distant memories.

"They didn't even make it to the airport. They were killed in a car accident... by a drunk driver."

My heart breaks for her. I'm familiar with the pain she's had to endure; nobody deserves that.

She keeps strong, staring at her parent's photographs adoringly. I am amazed at her strength and speechless over her grace.

I feel disgusted in myself for ever doubting her struggles.

"It's been me, Gran and Molly ever since," she looks up at me sadly smiling.

"A family, is a family," I say absentmindedly staring at the photos of her parents.

"Did you ever get the chance to... did you bring justice to your parents?" I couldn't help but ask.

She looks deeply into my eyes, as if she's staring into my soul.

"All I wanted, was for the driver to better herself... to better her life, and now she's your social worker."