Miss Artist Can Suffer

Cupcakes can mend a lot

Keira woke up with a jerk and her vision was blinded with the white light. She hated this room. So clean and neat that it actually ached her eyes. She wanted to do nothing but to fill the walls with some colour and her bric-a-bracs. But she adamantly refused on the principle that the walls were owned by Gerald's sorry ass. If they were hers, she would have to take some down by now, to make room for the new.

He had hurt her, knowingly or unknowingly. There was some times where she just wanted to strangle him with a 20 mm nylon cord. But she refrained because he was Sharon's brother.

Thinking of Sharon filled her with worry again. She had truly started to love the funny, quiet, calm but firm Sharon. She looked in the bedside clock and saw that it was 11 am. She jumped up, wondering how the hell she slept so late. She dragged her ass off the bed and decided to skip the bath as she trudged towards bathroom.

On the kitchen counter, she found a note along with a bowl of oatmeal saying that Mary was going to be absent today, and she was not to try to clean the house.

Keira snorted at the note and was going to dump the oatmeal in garbage bin. But then she considered the thought put by Gerald behind it and mainly, her own hunger. She groaned as she took the bite of the delicious oatmeal. It was simple oatmeal but her hunger was great.

She gazed over the empty hall and shuddered at the thought of facing it alone. However annoying Gerald might be, he provided a touch of sanity in her much needed life. Their early morning, one sided banters were the tonics that gave strength to Keira to endure the day of futileness and of berating stares of Mary. Now that she had missed it today, the big, empty house seemed intolerable to her. She felt a dying urge to leave the house. Plus she was going to anyways. Yesterday, when she had gone to the town, she had stumbled upon a small house whose one bedroom was up for renting. The family living in the rest was nice and even rent was very cheap.

She had decided to move out. Yesterday, she was going to but Sharon's call came and everything went downhill. She couldn't take Gerald anymore. Sometimes he cared but that too with a cold rationality. It felt like he had more moods than her. Sometimes all witty and nice and sometimes jackass. She longed for Sharon and her sweet, stable company.

~'~'~'

When he came home, Gerald found his home dark. For a moment he stood stupefied and scared. Was she really gone? He couldn't find the courage to open the door and face the darkness, literally and figuratively.

He stood there for long time but cold wind won't let him stand outside. With shivering hands he opened the door and quite daringly he stepped in. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he felt despair washing over him.

He hadn't endured all day to come home to this, an empty house; Crush spoke warmly.

But suddenly in the direction of his room he saw light. Like a miser running towards money, he ran to his room. His legs faltered at the door. Only a single light in one corner was on. Very much to his relief, he saw Keira standing there, her back to him. In front of her was her easel. She was drawing something. Her halter, loose top was backless and looked like a torn gunny sack. It was much contrasting to her prim white shorts.

As he was looking at her, he felt how stupid he was thinking that Keira might ever leave his life. She looked very firm and like she belonged there. His all fears seemed idiotic now that he saw Keira standing in his room. He went to her. He saw her hand stiffening at the sound of his footsteps. But she didn't look back.

He saw what she was drawing. It was a small object, resembling a cup cake. Fearing that his observation was very inartistic, he asked, "What is that?"