Chapter 7.

I remembered when it happened. I was walking down the sidewalk in the pearl when I saw this guy who looked like his eyes were going to cave in. Regardless the fact that he was Asian, he was squinting his eyes like Robert De Niro, and making an obviously important business deal over the phone. I thought, "I want to draw him."

Then I kept on walking.

Later on I saw another person. A man holding a cat clinging to his chest. I still remember his thick black rimmed glasses, and the dazed look on his face. I probably had the same look too because he was holding a cat outside in the city. I thought, "I need to draw him."

I saw too many people that day. Too many interesting people, and I still remember each line of their faces, every dimple, and every interesting expression.

And then It then hit me,

I could draw anyone.

I felt empowered. Like I had a secret no one new, no one else but me. It was almost like realizing you had learned a new language (except I wasn't fluent in anything but Art). I was thinking like an artist, or that's at least what I had guessed.

I saw everything completely different.

I was different, but also the same. It was like I was what I was going to become. I was there, in the future. It was now.

I had never felt a high like that any other time in my life, until I had met John.

I had met with him every Saturday now, and things were starting to lighten on my chest.

I couldn't believe how fast time had gone, and the non existent school year that I had had. Completely non existent in fact. Life should of seemed extremely dissatisfying without school, but oddly enough it was strangely the opposite. I had a lot of time to reflect on my life, so I made an effort every day to fill it up with odd jobs and things to do.

John was a plus.

-

It was Christmas. Christmas Eve.
I knew this year I would be spending it alone, away from loved ones, or just a loved one. My family was away on Holiday, and Laurel was the only real friend I had. She was spending this year with her soon to be in laws and Mark, but the worst thing about it all wasn't the fact that she was going to be away for Christmas, but all of the wedding shit that was currently happening.

I never realized how much time and effort went into wedding planning. Of course, I hadn't been to a wedding since my father remarried, but that was at the court house. Short and sweet, idealistic really. I never thought anyone should wait as long as people do these days. They spend a year to years planning, 'The best day of their lives'.

When really isn't it the best day when you finally know who you want to marry? They should just do it, like on a whim when they know.

But Laurel saw it otherwise, and I loved her too much to append my opinions and advice on her like I had always did. So I refrained.

Another bad thing was how her parents ha been these past few months. No one really knew what was going on with them, but they had been acting funny. They weren't lively anymore, and they seemed sad all the time. I figured it was because they're one and only daughter was getting married.

So I was alone.

John had said he would be at the Rescue Mission today for their Christmas eve service, so I decided I would show up.

I walked there from our small town house in the cold. Snow left a micro thin sheet on the ground, the kind that everyone here freaked out about. It always made me laugh. Snow fall here on the news was like CNN the day Michael Jackson died. They always came up with new and interesting names for the snow, like 'Arctic Blast', or 'The Blizzard of the Decade'. These were some of the reasons why I never watched television anymore. Some people dread the snow thanks to them, instead of being grateful for the specks we got.

I had my boots on, the rugged kind that made me look like a wanna be bad ass. They were black too, so that helped.

Some people were running frantically through the city singing Christmas carols, but for the most part the city was quiet. Cold and quiet.

I made it to the mission, and noticed for one of the first times there was hardly anyone outside. Normally, homeless people of all ages were lined up or just hanging around. This time it was vacant, and the windows to the doors were lit with a serene warmth. It was welcoming. I felt like scrooge outside looking in on tiny time and his family. People were eating, tables were filled, and a Christmas service was going on.

I entered in quietly and took in what was around me. People of stature, and people who didn't even have a status except on the street were eating with one another. It was a strange sight, but at the same time oddly comforting. It was almost a glimpse of a picture of how the world could be if there really was such a thing as peace.

I saw John. He was sitting at the edge of a table listening to the service. I quietly walked over and sat across from him.

"Hi."

He looked over, and seemed happy and surprised to see me.

"Well, hello. What are you doing here?"

"I had a gift for you, and plus I'm kind of a loner."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I suppose that's another thing we have in common."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So what's this gift?"

I smiled, and pulled out a very shitty wrapped package from my bag and gave it to him.

"I thought you could, I don't know, reminisce."

He pulled the book out. His face became somber, but also appreciative. He stroked the cover. It was one of his books. His old publishing house had republished a nicer hard copy of it. It was called, "The Art of Rembrandt". When John had told me he wrote some books, I went out to search for them. I knew his name and where he was from, and what he had studied, so I started from there. I had never known that he minored in art history as well as English literature. I felt like we were more alike then we really realized.

"Where did you find this?"
"Online, I ordered it in."
"This was one of my first books. You know, this took me years to write, and to finally publish, but it was one of the first ones I knew I had to write about."

"You talk about Rembrandt as if you knew him."

"I used to feel like we were old friends."

"I never knew you liked art so much. You know, I do art, John."
"You do?"
"Ha yeah, I guess I'm so interested in you and your thoughts I never even thought about talking about myself."
"I knew you would with time."

I looked down. He was so understanding.

"John?"
"Yeah?"
"I found out something else."
"What?"

I didn't know how to say what I was going to say.

"Well, I- I found your family."

He looked down. I knew what was going through his head, he probably thought I was some horrible person who liked to get involved and control other peoples lives. Daniel had said I was like that once, and it had stuck with me...
A girl, or maybe just a person, never forgets something like that.

He looked back up, this time concerned.

"Where are they?"
"They are in Denver, Colorado. They have actually been looking for you."
"Have they?"
"Yes. It's in an old news report John. Do you want to tell me what really happened?"
"You must already know by now."

I stumbled into silence. His eyes were piercing, but extremely sad.

"Your daughter, Your daughter was killed, in a three car wreck."

He looked to the side now, his eyes were swelling.

"Your family didn't leave you John, you left them. They want you back."

He looked back at me, and his eyes were angry.

"I can't go back."
"Why not?"
"Because it was my fault."
"No it wasn't, John. I saw the news report, a tire gave out on an icy road? It was just a freak accident, they happen everyday."
"That day wasn't everyday. And it was my fault, I hadn't gone to get the tire fixed..."

He threw the book onto the table. Tears were falling now. I reached over and grabbed his hands, but he pulled them away. He stood up.

"Don't try to act like you know my life, like you know who I am."

With one look, he stormed away.

I was alone again, and I felt it.