“I know it’s not much, but the best people are part of this place,” Jules explained, his eyes holding a type of pride that proved he found peace here.
We walked inside, immediately met with music. “Seven Nation Army” by The White Stripes played, the acoustic sound hitting my ears with perfect harmony. My chest lightened, my shoulders relaxing as the riff echoed around me.
“They never upgraded to soundproof studios,” Jules mused. “I love it, though. When I’m on the wheel, it’s comforting to hear students practice their love of music.”
“Reminds me of home,” I muttered quietly, thinking of Dad. He used to play acoustic all the time at home. When eating, watching TV, he always held his guitar, strumming, filling the house with constant noise.
I missed that.
“Musical family?” Jules asked, his eyebrow arched. Curiosity piqued there, like he had questions but didn’t want to intrude.
“Something like that.”
He didn’t push, but waded inside more, showing me the pottery area, which was his expertise.
I personally enjoyed drawing. The feel of a pen beneath my hand, pencils, and the mess of charcoals. It was peace.
Unlike my teachers taught me in school, I didn’t use normal tools, and instead focused on my fingers, the mess and destruction they could cause with the perfect amount of pressure.
Some pieces were an absolute disaster of anger and sadness, showing it through the messy edges and sharp lines, but I’d never hated the end result.
“This is the drawing lab,” Jules gestured. Cars looked inside with a smile. He painted, loved watercolors mostly, but he also loved the art of a charcoal pencil.
“It’s spacious,” I mentioned, seeing the open room. There were tables with easels, the front chalkboard had a written list of the syllabus for the day.
“It’s not what you’re looking for, though, right?”
I turned to Cars, seeing his face, and then to Jules who asked the question. Shaking my head, I smiled with melancholy. “I really want to feel attached. Like my art would suffocate without the place I created it in.
He smiled, his face showing respect. “That’s okay. If I made a decision before halfway through my degree, I’d have been elsewhere. Don’t go somewhere that doesn’t feel right. We only want to do this once.”
“You’re a good man,” I acknowledged. “Most advisors try selling the college as the best.”
Jules shook his head in exasperation. “Yeah, no. Life’s too short to lie.”
I chuckled, along with Carson, and he showed me the rest of the arts department. After this, I knew, I’d never settle when it came to school.
Chapter Eleven
Hot Demon Bitches Near U – Corpse & Night Lovell
Madden
Cars went home a couple days later, we spoke about my options and what he wanted. We were thinking of getting a place. Right now, he still lived with his overbearing parents. He wasn’t ready to leave, and somehow, I knew it was because I lived with Andy and not by myself. He didn’t want to force me out of my everyday norm.
Before he left, we went to the nail salon with Andy, they got theirs fancy while I got my chipped black nails redone and we all did facials.
There was something so refreshing about getting our faces clean and shit. Andy spent a ton more time with Cars than I expected. I found myself enjoying their bonding, wishing I brought him around more.
My phone rang as I ran on the treadmill at the gym, my third mile about to be hit. “Yeah?” I answered laboriously. My breath came out in quick pants while my heart raced. My lungs—in order to work and talk—felt like they were exhausting themselves more than normal.
“Hey, sweetie,” Mom answered. Her voice stiffer than normal, which meant Dad relapsed, cheated, or exhausted her with something. It always bothered me, knowing how a different pitch in her voice showed more than her face ever did. She seemed older whenever they toured, like life drained them both so much.
Part of me wondered why touring was so important, the other part refused to constantly wonder why I’d never been enough.
It’d been months since I left home, it felt like everything moved too fast. My birthday was in a month, I got the job at Inked in Chaos, hung out with Cars a few times. Life had become a routine. I drank too much, got high, and partied with random people at the club too often. Andy busied herself constantly and while it exhausted the fuck out of me to not make things awkward, I couldn’t help but notice her more.
It was like the distance she put between us allowed my mind to wonder about what the fuck she was doing and if she thought of me too.
“How’s the tour?” I said, avoiding my own mind. She made an indistinguishable noise, one that didn’t sound good at all. My stomach clenched and I slowed my pace to a fast walk.
“Are you running?” she deflected, her voice changing to hide whatever she felt.
“Yeah, five miles a day. Though, you interrupted,” I joked, pretending to chuckle. She and I had this stilted way of communicating whenever she stressed about something. It unsettled me how much she shut down to fit in the bubble Dad required of her.
“I can let you go, I didn’t mean to—”
“Mom, I was joking. I can catch up after or even do two extra miles tomorrow.” I’m just trying to keep my form because it helped my mental health.
Yeah, I decided on Dupont after doing the tour. Something about the campus felt right. It didn’t seem sheltered or lackluster in the arts department. It was exactly what I was looking for.
“Oh, okay,” she said, clearing her throat. “Your father wants you in London for your birthday.”
I let out a long sigh, knowing what came next. She’d tell me he was too high, too fucked up to deal with it. She’d let me know he shouldn’t be seen as he was and she needed to keep a lid on his exposure to more people.
“Yeah?” I made sure to inflect curiosity and not dread, but I missed them. They spent next to zero time with me and if I could see them, I would. Especially after three months of wanting to be around them. That two years with them all the time—other than Dad’s distractions—reminded me how I didn’t appreciate what time I had.
My treadmill stayed inclined, even as my pace was at a three. It was like climbing a hill but slowly. My body felt good as sweat trailed down my bare chest, soaking my shorts.
The gym at Andy’s complex was insane. It not only put normal ones to shame, it was clean as hell.
“Yeah, I’ll buy the tickets tonight. I just wanted to make sure you wanted to come still and if you wanted me to get a ticket for Carson or Andy.”
“Wow,” I let out, not realizing I’d spoken it aloud for a second. “I am cool just being with you and Dad. Miss you guys.”
It wasn’t untrue, but I didn’t let the solemn tone I carted around seep through the phone either.
“I’ll see you then, sweetheart. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom,” I responded. She hung up before I could ask her what was truly wrong. When I set my phone down, I turned on my Underoath playlist and amped up the speed again. Fuck avoidance, it never did shit for me anyway.
When I got home, it was late. I’d decided to eat out and take a long walk through Brightmore’s version of Central Park. My feet fucking hurt from exercising and my head hurt from the torturous thoughts always running rampant.