Half of a Love Story

05. ALEXIS

i don't know what's more magic, that i keep looking for you wherever i go, or that you're never there

26th January 2013

Noise reverberated up and down the street. Cars were honking, busy cabbies were shouting obscenities out the windows as they stood stuck in traffic and babies were either babbling with one another or crying as their mothers walked down the street in deep conversation; oblivious.

Typical Seattle.

There was always something happening somewhere.

I walked into the building and waved to the doorman, "Hey, Nigel."

"Hey, Lex," he waved back with a huge smile on his face. Nigel was great. He was in his late 30's and was like an uncle figure to me. I absolutely adored him. He was very charming and capable of holding a good conversation, and that had quickly become my routine whenever I felt the need to head down to my studio.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the paper bag. "I got you a donut." Buying him a donut had also become the norm, very quickly after he had indulged in all the sweets he absolutely adored but his wife always warned him against. She did have a point.

He accepted graciously and took a peek, his mouth stretching into a wide grin as he noticed that I had gotten his favourite; biscoff.

"Anything interesting happen lately?" I asked, a small smile playing on my face.

He gave me a serious look, "Nothing except for a fat fella falling over and then landing on the ground with a bounce. Other than that, nothing at all," I couldn't help but grin at his words. I know it's sad, but it's just the way he said it.

I'm even disappointed that I had missed the spectacle.

I shook my head and smiled, "See you later, Nige."

"I'll see you on the way out, Lex. And thanks for the donut."

I merely smiled in response and waved to him as he watched me disappear behind the elevator doors.

Waiting for the lift to make its way up to the sixth floor where my studio was, I tapped my foot impatiently. It was like, the closer I got to it, the more the need intensified. All I wanted was to spend the night with my paints and a blank canvas.

It used to be mum's studio. Dad gave it to me when I was old enough. It kind of worked out that I wanted to an artist just like mum.

Sometimes, when I was younger, she would take me here and let me express myself while she worked on some of her work but after she passed, my dad couldn't bring me. I didn't understand why when I was younger, but I couldn't imagine how painful it was to him. Instead, I tried to paint in my bedroom but it just wasn't the same.

On my sweet sixteenth, I didn't get a car like most other teenagers. Instead, I got the studio. It was the best present anyone had ever gotten me and was much better than a car.

It was a huge room that had a couple of large shelves and cabinets on the far side against the wall. They contained all my paint, brushes and equipment. Some of my paintings were hung on the walls, while the ones that were in progress were still placed on their easels.

There was one painting which I had been working on for years. It was in the corner of the room covered up by a big white sheet; it was the only painting that was covered.

It was my favourite one, the piece of work that I was most proud of. But it wasn't finished just yet.

I had been working on it for nearly four years, wanting it to be perfect. It was my one and only long-term project. It was a painting of Caylus. That's why it was so beautiful.