The Art of Life

by Carter, Sarah

  Jeremy turns around and he falters a little. “Wow, Isabelle, you look fantastic!”

  I wonder if he can see me blush through the make-up. “Thanks,” I whisper.

  He smiles and says, “Do you like it?”

  “I love it,” I gush. “I can’t even believe I am the same person.”

  “You are definitely the same person,” he replies. “Now, go outside so I can take care of this.”

  Stepping forward, I state, “I can get money from my mom. I can’t believe that this isn’t going to be expensive.”

  “I told you,” he replies. “I am paying for it. Trust me, it’s alright. Go outside and wait.”

  “Wait,” I turn to Debbie. “Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me.”

  She comes over and hugs me. “You need to come back and see me again, alright?”

  “Definitely,” I reply. I look at Jeremy. “Are you sure I should go outside?”

  “Yes,” he says. “Go, go, go.”

  Rolling my eyes, I head to the door. When I walk outside, I don’t see his bike anywhere. I wonder where he parked. Oh well, I wait at the door. A little while later, Jeremy comes walking out of the salon. He is carrying a bag. “Here,” he says, “This is yours. Debbie says everything you need is in here.”

  I take the bag and look inside. All the hair product she showed me and make-up that I used is in the bag. “Jeremy,” I gasp. “This had to have cost a fortune!”

  “Eh,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders. “We are all good.”

  “I have to give you something for this,” I demand.

  He shakes his head and articulates, “You aren’t giving me anything for this. We need to go get you a flat iron now. I really hope you know what in the world that is.”

  “Yeah,” I reply. “Let me stop and try and get money from my mom.”

  Giving me a look, Jeremy sighs. “That really isn’t necessary.”

  “You are a part time bike mechanic, it is necessary,” I reply. “You have things like rent and bills to pay.”

  “Umm,” he replies, staring at the ground. “Those things are true, but….never mind. If you feel the need, we can stop back at your house.”

  Against my better judgment, I leap at him and give him a hug. “Thank you so much, you have no idea what this means to me.”

  He laughs, picking me off the ground and returning the hug. “I am happy that I could do it. Let’s go. I am getting hungry.”

  “Where is your bike?” I inquire.

  “I really wasn’t going to make you put a helmet back on your head. So, I brought my car.”

  “I thought it was in the shop.”

  Smiling, Jeremy replies, “It was getting a few kinks worked out. It’s all good now. It’s down the block. Come on.”

  We walk and I practically have a skip in my step. Suddenly, we come up to an older car. I look at it. “This is one of those…what do you call them, muscle cars?”

  “It is my baby. It’s a 1967 GTO. You have no idea what that means huh?”

  “Not a clue,” I laugh.

  He just grins. “Trust me. This thing rocks. Wanted by many men and only owned by a few.”

  “Well, it’s pretty,” I say.

  Giving me a smirk, he replies, “It’s not pretty, it’s gorgeous, much like you.”

  “Awww, that’s so sweet.”

  “Come on, get in.” Jeremy opens the door for me. I throw the backpack and bag on the seat and climb in. It’s very beautiful. Even I can appreciate that.

  When Jeremy starts the car, you can feel the rumble of the engine. I laugh. “You can feel the power behind this thing.”

  “Oh, you just wait. You have no idea.” With that, he takes off down the street.

  A lot of guy’s heads turn as we drive downtown. “So,” I say, “This is rather popular?”

  “When they are in this good of condition, yes, they are very wanted. I could put this in a show if I wanted to.”

  “Why don’t you?” I ask.

  Looking away for a second, Jeremy whispers, “I just don’t.”

  I just watch him carefully. For a little while, he looks lost in his own little world. When we pull up to my house, I see that my mom is still there. “Wait here,” I insist firmly.

  “I want to meet your mom,” Jeremy says, getting out of the car.

  “Jeremy! No! Please, you don’t understand!”

  He comes walking over to me and puts his hands on my arms. “It’s alright, Isabelle. Nothing is going to scare me away. I think you need someone to really see what your life is like.”

  My body is fighting back really hard not to cry. “Please Jeremy,” I whisper. “I don’t know how bad she is today. You don’t understand.”

  Suddenly, I hear, “Isabelle!?”

  With my heart dropping into my stomach, I see my mom standing on the porch. “Oh no.”

  She crosses her arms. “What did you do!?”

  “Hi, I am Jeremy.” Jeremy walks over to my mom and sticks out his hand. I quickly run after him. “I took Isabelle to get her hair done today. Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

  I watch with horror as my mom eyes Jeremy. Suddenly, she gets a really wicked smile. “Aren’t you scrumptious? You said your name is Jeremy?”

  “Yeah,” he replies.

  “I am Isabelle’s mom, but you can call me Deanne. Does anyone ever tell you, you have beautiful eyes?”

  Oh great. “Mom, I just came to ask if I could have some money”

  “For what?” She asks, turning to me.

  Grimacing, I say, “I need a flat iron, and well, a blow dryer and some brushes. I just learned how to do my hair, but I don’t have anything to do it with.”

  “You took her to get her hair done?” My mom inquires, looking at Jeremy.

  “Yes, I did. I mean, I can buy her the stuff. It’s no problem,” he replies.

  My mom shakes her head. “No, I will give her some money. I guess I should have been the one who took her.”

  “It’s alright,” I say. “I had fun.”

  “Well, you do look pretty,” my mom sighs. “Why don’t I just give you my debit card? You know the pin.”

  Jeremy steps forward. “You are more than welcome to come with.”

  NO! JEREMY! I quickly stutter, “It’s alright.”

  “Yeah..well, no, I am going to the bar…I mean, I am going to see some friends. I won’t be home until real late,” my mom says quietly.

  “It’s fine. I think we are going to get something to eat, too. Unless you want me to cook something?” I ask Jeremy. “I did just go grocery shopping.”

  Smiling, Jeremy says, “No, you look wonderful. We have to show you off.”

  “I think she needs to show you off,” My mom laughs. “You sure got yourself a yummy boyfriend.”

  “Oh,” I interrupt, “He’s not my…”

  Stopping me, Jeremy says, “Thank you, but I am the lucky one to have such a beautiful girlfriend.”

  “Thanks,” I whisper, looking at him. He just winks in reply.

  “Let me get my debit card,” My mom mumbles, as she steps to the front door. Her footing slips a little. Oh no, she has been drinking already.

  I run up to her. “Mom, umm, do you want us to drive you to your…friends? Maybe you shouldn’t drive.”

  In an instant her personality changes. “Why would I need a ride?”

  “Mom,” I hiss quietly. “You can’t drive like this. What if you get pulled over?”

  Pulling the door open, my mom growls, “I will call a taxi.”

  My heart breaks. I look at Jeremy. I can only imagine what he is thinking. His eyes lock on mine, and he gives me a soft smile. As my mom walks into the house, he simply walks up to me. Wrapping his arms around me, he whispers, “See, I am not going anywhere.”

  Wrapping my arms around him, I reply, “Thank you.” As I let go, I say, “She is having a good day. Most of the time she is mean and nasty.”

  “Well, we will
get going and finish having a great day. We don’t need to think about this.”

  “Thanks,” I sigh. “Come on, she gets distracted easily, usually by a liquor bottle. It’s the weekend. There isn’t anything to hold her back.”

  Opening the door, I step inside with Jeremy right behind me. “So, this is my house,” I say, shutting the door. “I do all the cleaning, so if something is messed up. I am sorry.”

  “I want to see your room,” Jeremy states. “Is it upstairs?” He starts to walk to the steps.

  “Why in the world would you want to see my room?” I ask, dodging in front of him to block his way.

  He keeps walking, pushing me to the stairs. “Because, we are friends now, and friends need to see each other’s lives. I will show you mine, if you show me yours.”

  “What!?” I gasp.

  “I will show you my apartment, if you show me your room,” he laughs.

  Trying to hold him still, I say, “No.”

  Suddenly, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. “Yes.”

  “Jeremy!” I try to not yell so loud.

  He laughs and just goes up the steps. He is so going to drop me. I am going to die. I am going to fall down the steps and die. “Which door is it?” Jeremy asks, as we finally get to the top.

  “Put me down!” I demand.

  So, he does. “Which one is it?”

  “This one,” I sigh, gesturing to the door behind him. “No one has been in my room since I was 13. I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “It’s fine,” Jeremy says. “Wait until you see my apartment. It looks like NO ONE has been in there in 13 years. I need to clean it, but always seem to get sidetracked.”

  That makes me smile, “But remember, I owe you one. So, I have to clean it.”

  Getting a very devious grin on his face, Jeremy snickers, “That’s right. Oh, do you have your hands full.”

  I shake my head and open my bedroom door. A knot of nervousness sits in my stomach. “So, this is my art.”

  “Oh..my…gosh…Isabelle. This is…just amazing.” Jeremy walks over to the first wall. Every single one of my walls is covered in my art. My best pieces are framed. The rest are collages. Ever so carefully, he looks at each picture. “I am going to give you one promise,” Jeremy whispers.

  “What’s that?” I ask, walking over to him.

  Turning to look at me, Jeremy says, “I am going to do everything in my power to make sure you go to school for this. I mean it.”

  “I wish,” I reply. “That would be a dream come true.”

  “We will get you there, even if I have to sell some of my organs.”

  That makes me laugh. “Only if they are the good organs.”

  Jeremy smiles. He goes back to looking at the framed pieces. “I could spend the rest of the night looking at your work. I would say we should get a bottle of wine and do just that, but alas, you are still but a child.”

  I slap him on the shoulder. “I am only three years younger than you!”

  “Yeah, I know,” he chuckles. “You still have so much to learn, grasshopper.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I have to ask. “Is that how you view me? A child?”

  “What?” He responds, turning to look at me.

  “Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. Pointing to the frame next to Jeremy, I tell him, “This is my favorite piece. She was this little old lady that I volunteered with. Well, let me back up, a year ago I volunteered at a hospice facility. Her name was Rita. She was the sweetest old lady, and had the best stories to tell of her life. The thing is her family had nothing to do with her. She was all alone and dying. It broke my heart. We became really good friends. I stayed with her and was actually there when she died. Otherwise, she would have been alone. I couldn’t volunteer there anymore after that. She was the closest thing I had to a grandma. It wasn’t for that long, but she left a big mark on me.”

  Jeremy looks very carefully at the sketching. “It is very hard to watch someone die.”

  “It is,” I reply. “Especially when it’s someone so innocent, sweet and a good person. It seems almost wrong.”

  Suddenly standing up straight, Jeremy takes in a sharp breath. “Yeah, death can be…..very unfair.”

  “Have you ever lost anyone?” I ask.

  Stepping over to look at more of my art, Jeremy doesn’t say anything for a minute. Finally, he quietly answers, “I think we have all lost someone at some point.”

  Suddenly, my door opens farther. “This is the first time that I have ever had to worry about a boy being in your room.”

  We turn to see my mom. She has a drink in one hand and her debit card in the other. “Jeremy is just looking at my work,” I say.

  “Well, even so, I think it’s time we talked about birth control.”

  Oh lord have mercy on me! “MOM!” I yell. “You don’t say stuff like that in front of people!”

  Jeremy snorts behind me. “Madam, you do not need to worry about such things.”

  “So, you are supplying the protection?” My mom slurs a little. “You better be.”

  I am going to die. “Mom, we aren’t having sex. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I watch TV. I know what goes on these days, all those people your age being promiscuous!”

  “Mom,” I hiss sharply. “I am a virgin, so there isn’t anything you need to worry about.”

  She thrusts forth the debit card. “Here, get whatever you want. You should buy some new clothes, too, to go along with your hair.”

  “We are planning to do that next weekend,” Jeremy replies nicely.

  Nodding, my mom mumbles, “Good, I am going to the bar now.”

  “Have fun!” I say sarcastically, but it goes completely unnoticed by her. Turning to Jeremy, I exclaim, “I am so sorry about my mom!”

  Jeremy just laughs. “It’s fine.”

  “It is not fine!” I snap. “How more horribly embarrassed could I be?”

  “She could have told us to go buy some contraceptives.”

  My eyes nearly explode. “I would have probably died.”

  “You should always use protection,” he says, with a big grin.

  “Jeremy! Shut up!”

  That makes him laugh even more. “This makes my day.”

  “I am glad that you find it so funny,” I mumble.

  “Relax, at least she didn’t give us THE TALK.” I just look at him with a blank stare. Narrowing his eyes, he asks, “She has had that conversation with you right?”

  My face heats up from blushing. “Ugh, sort of, we have had some weird conversations while she has been drunk.”

  Getting a huge smile on his face, Jeremy inquires, “Do I need to talk to you about it?”

  “No!” I practically scream. “We seriously need to the change the topic.”

  “But this is so much fun!”

  I glare at him and articulate strongly, “No, it’s not.”

  “Well, if you ever have any questions, feel free to ask.”

  Now, I really want to be somewhere else. “I will NEVER ask you about THAT!”

  Leaning forward, he says, “It’s called ssseeeexxxx.”

  That makes me cover my face with my hands. “It’s called shut up!”

  Jeremy continues to chuckle, but goes to the last wall with my art. “You are an amazing artist.”

  “Thanks,” I say, grateful for the subject change. “Oh! That reminds me. I made you something.” I put my backpack down and unzip it.

  “Oh, oh, oh, is it made out of macaroni noodles?” Jeremy giddily jokes.

  “Now you aren’t going to get it,” I laugh, “make fun of my macaroni noodles.”

  Coming over to me, Jeremy retorts, “I love macaroni noodle art.”

  “Well then, you will be disappointed.” I bring out the drawing. “I matted it for you, to make it look nice, and well, I did the bike to the best of my recollection. So, it’s not the best.” Carefully, I hand it over to Jeremy.

  “Isabelle,” he
quietly whispers, “this is fantastic. You did this last night?”

  Nodding, I reply, “Yeah.” I walk over to look over his shoulder. “Do you like it?”

  I watch Jeremy look at it. It is a sketching of him sitting on his bike, down by the clearing. “I feel privileged to have you draw me. This is getting framed and going up in my living room.”

  “Oh no!” I gasp. “You have people over and then they will see it.”

  “Isn’t that the point of art?” He asks, looking back at me.

  My eyes quickly look away. “Yeah, but I haven’t really shown people my work.”

  “Is this mine? You are giving it to me, right?”

  “Yeah,” I reply. “Why?”

  Getting close to me, he whispers, “I am putting this up in my apartment, and I am going to proudly show it off. It is beautiful. You need to show people your art.”

  I look up at him. “Are we friends, like real friends?”

  “Oh yeah totally,” Jeremy replies seriously.

  “Well then, I am happy that you came into my life. You have made me feel so much better about myself, and I am glad that I can share the best part of who I am with you. You are the first person to really SEE my art.”

  With a smile, Jeremy replies, “I am most privileged.”

  That makes me happy. He makes me happy. “Well, we should go. I am getting hungry myself.”

  “Thank you for the gift.”

  I shake my head. “It’s nothing, you have done so much for me.” Looking up at him, I say, “I still don’t know why.”

  “Well, I wanted to help you, but now, I would like to be your friend.” Jeremy states, “You are a cool chick. I don’t understand why you don’t have more friends.”

  Shrugging, I reply, “I don’t have any self esteem and am really shy.”

  “We will get you past that. Come on, let’s go, unless you want to talk to your mom more about IT?”

  “You are not going to let that go, are you?” I ask.

  Wiggling his eyebrows, Jeremy replies, “Nope!”

  “Let’s go,” I mumble, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the door.

  “Wait,” Jeremy says, yanking me to the stop. “I just realized looking at this picture. This guy in your sketches, that’s the Eric guy.”