... She painted.
It has been a year since he left. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe I was never meant to fall for anyone. Because they try so hard for me. To the point that they hurt themselves for me.
-
“Allie! The principal wants to talk to you.”
That time, when I was keeping myself from other people, I met him.
“The school needs some artists to paint a mural for our school. It is for Valentine’s. I hope you will cooperate for this project,”
I looked at him and observed his actions. He was trying his best to escape from the project. Is he trying to avoid me?
“I.. I think I’m not good enough to paint a mural, ma’am. I.. I.. I can draw but not that good,” he said.
Jerry Gomez.. I once heard his name before. He won some of the contests about painting. To actually say that he is not good. Is he trying to be humble or more arrogant by being humble? Tch.
I can’t believe I have to do this project.. with a guy! I could have done this alone. But I have to be stuck with this.. person.
“Let’s.. Let’s do our best, eh!” he said.
Yeah, right. I don’t know why but I just hate boys. They remind me.. of him. And I hate it when they try so hard to please me. Don’t they know that I don’t want them proving something just because they thought it would please me?
The first day was kind of irritating. I was painting something already when this Jerry person tried to re-do it. I splashed it with white paint. He kept telling me about love and stuff and what I was doing was wrong. That was the first time a guy tried to correct me. He could talk to me like I was just like him, a student, an artist.. Not someone popular. Not someone special. Just me.
It was weird how I like his company. I even tried hassling the project by contradicting his ideas. I kept splashing white paint whenever he tried painting. One day, I failed to keep my serious facade and laughed. For the longest time, I finally laughed. And it was with a guy. With him.
Just as things were becoming better for me, I saw him. He was the first person I liked so much. He told me he liked me,too. But he changed. He told me that I was like any other girls. He thought I was not the type of person who would fall for him so he got bored and stuff. I was.. stunned. And I tried to change myself. I was being stupid and actually waited for him when he transferred school. But I became bitter. I kept remembering his words and I told myself that when guys confess to me, I’d never believe them. I would not accept them. I started hating them. And there he was..
I went to him and asked how was his life in his new school. He was with another girl that time. I was not shocked anymore. The blindfold had finally been taken and I could see that he never loved me like I did. He said it was fine. He then asked me if I was with Jerry. He told me that Jerry was stalking me from before and he could always see him peeping in the club’s room.
“The guy was familiar and when I saw you with him, I was surprised. You’re still that same girl from before, Allie. You just can’t help but believe people who s-”
Before he could finished his sentence, I slapped him. It was enough to hear those words once. I ran away from him. Maybe he was right. Maybe I could not help but believe when people tell me that they love me. Because, maybe I wanted them to. But now, I’m unsure if they do. I couldn’t tell if they love me or not. Then I stopped in the park. I cried and cried. Then I felt someone was coming. It was Jerry. Was he really stalking me? Did he like me from before? He then started saying things about how an idiot the guy I liked from before. I told him to shut up. I knew he didn’t know him. He didn’t know him so he couldn’t just judge him. I ran. I was starting to feel dizzy and the next thing I knew, I was already in my house.
-
I touched the wall where the only memory I had with him was painted. I started crying knowing that he did this to prove that.. he loves me. But I didn’t want to believe him. I was still scared that maybe one day, just like before, he would say that it was just a lie. That he didn’t really love me. Maybe he did but he changed.
And I wondered, because I was falling. When he said he loved me, I couldn’t deny the fact that I was happy. But I told him to stop. Because I hurt him.
-
It was the second time I felt really.. loved. My dad loved me so much that.. he risked his life because I told him I wanted art materials for my birthday. It was raining that day. He was driving to our house. He was hugging the gift he was supposed to give me. But he met an accident and was not able to give it to me personally.
I didn’t want the paint and brushes and crayons. I didn’t want them anymore. But he bought those for my sake. I.. I don’t like people doing something for me when they are risking themselves. It would only hurt me to see them hurt.
Jerry loved me. And the truth, I did too. He was the only person to talk to me as.. me. Not as Allie the famous artist. The campus crush. He even liked me before I could have met him. But, I don’t want to lose him like how I lost my dad. So I told him to stop.
-
“Why are you painting?”
A freshman approached me as I was painting in the arts club’s room. She was slender and had curly hair. It was like staring at a doll, a talking one.
“Bored, probably.” I added a little green to the yellow paint and brushed it to the canvas.
“No, I mean. Why do you paint?”
I faced her, quite surprised of her questioning. Is she a new member here, I thought.
“Well, I..” I thought deep. Why do I paint?
The girl sat beside me and took a brush. She took some papers and brushed it with colors.
“Some artists make their works hard to understand. That’s because they want people to figure it out not with just one look. They want people to keep on looking at the painting until they understand the story why it was painted. But only few look harder.”
I don’t know why she kept babbling about painting but I just listened to her. She then stared at me.
“I heard that the mural in that huge wall was painted for you. Have you finally understood its story?”
She was referring to the mural painted by him. I never really thought of knowing the story about the mural. But now that she mentioned it..
“I kept staring at it for months now. I couldn’t understand it at first because it was just colors and random images. But a guy who happens to be a friend of the artist told me the story,” she said
I got curious and asked her what the story was.
“He said that it was about a girl who lost interest to her world. She was just silent and never felt happy. She started taking the colors out of her life and threw it everywhere. She was unaware that someone was picking those colors and tried to reassemble it. But that person couldn’t figure it out. Only the girl know how to fix it. So that person kept all the colors together and showed it to the girl. It belonged to her after all. It’s up to her now if she would fix it. But that is not the end of the story,” she smiled and threw the papers she painted with different colors to the air.
“The person who was collecting the colors saw a different world. A colorful one and the colors he kept made his world colorful as well. So he thanked the girl for making his world nicer and more wonderful as it was.”
She looked at me and held my hand.
“The person who told me the story said that the girl in the story was you. And the person who was collecting the colors was the guy who painted the mural. Are you going to fix it?”
I was speechless. I just stared at her as tears started to fill my eyes.
She then asked again.
“Are you going to fix it?”
iF tHerE's sOmeThinG sToriEs TeLL, wHaT cOuLd iT bE?
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