Healing Through Color

I gently brushed more red paint into the flames. Standing back I realized I needed to add a deeper blue to the water, that wouldn't happen today. Mr. Franz, the High School Art Teacher, had used my idea of cool blue water and red hot flames to suggest contrast to the class. This painting wasn't that good. Time. I needed more time.

The room was quiet. Everyone had been gone for two hours or more. Mr. Franz allowed me to stay after school and work on my project whenever the building was in use for other after school activities.

The alarm on my watch went off. I had exactly ten minutes before Mom would be in front of the school. She didn't like to wait. She said it throws off the whole evening schedule. Everything for her is scheduled. I rinsed the brushes well, took off my smock and hung it on the hook, turned off Bach on the CD player, and ran down the hall past rows of lockers, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I was almost out of the building. Mr. Adkins the principal stepped into the hall. I dodge to the left to miss him.

"Don't run in the hall young lady." He said hiding a large grin.

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry."

"Are you excited about the art exhibit in January? Mr. Franz pulled a lot of strings to get his star artist in the line-up."

I glanced over my shoulder to the pull-up lane in front of the school, smiled and shrugged my shoulders. How was I going to be able to paint five paintings by January? Why did you have to have five to enter?

Mom pulled in like clockwork. I shoved the heavy front door open and stepped into the late autumn breeze. I stepped to the back of the white car and placed my bag in the trunk as she popped it open. This helps keep the beige interior spotless.

I sat down and quickly hid my hands under my thighs. I spent clean up time getting the different shades of red paint out of my brushes and ran out of time to remove the burning evidence from my hands.

"Did you get your homework done or did you spend the whole two hours in the art room?" Her voice was cool and even.

"I finished some of my work, but I still have some to do." I wasn't lying. I finished another layer on my painting. It wasn't really homework, but it was work.

"You'll need to finish your homework right after dinner."

"Okay." I said loud enough so she would hear. She thinks it's part of her job to remind me of things everyday even if I don't forget.

After dinner I took my white plate to the sink and gave dad a hug while he thumbed through some papers. He looked up while he gave me a backward hug with one arm. "I guess I'll move this to my office."

Once in my room I relaxed and settled in to homework. Homework time was safe. Mom agreed to stay out of my room and Dad's office when we work because she can't stand the books and papers we spread out all over. Homework helped me stay out of Mom's way.

I heard her in the bathroom - probably wiping everything down and mopping the floors in her daily after dinner cleaning routine.

The phone rang and I rushed to it. Mom sighed heavily and flushed the toilet. My quick reaction had prevented a disastrous interruption. My homework could be interrupted, her cleaning could not.

"Hello."

"Hello, it's Cara, I have a question about our history quiz tomorrow."

"Okay - I'm walking back to my room where my books are. What is it?" I step gingerly, not to undo the vacuum lines in the light beige carpet.

"First off "Miss Straight A in History," what are the exact page numbers?"

"37-43, Miss Shelly said there will be three bonus questions from the rest of the chapter." Why wouldn't I have good grades? Studying is something I am allowed to do.

"I'll worry about the bonus questions if I get a chance. I'm overwhelmed with some of the other work. I do have another question for you though. I know your birthday is on Friday from the bulletin board in homeroom. Are you having a party?"

"No just a quiet evening with Mom and Dad - they might take me out to dinner they do that sometimes." A real treat if Mom could relax and dad didn't bring work with him.

"Well I have a little something for you and would like to give it to you after school on Friday - I don't like to give early presents."

"I'll find out from Mom about Friday and let you know. Maybe you can come along."

"I've been praying for you and your family. Have you been praying like our Sunday School teacher has asked?"

"Some."

"Good. Well I better go. Unlike some people I have to study for good grades."

"You do fine. Bye."

"Bye."

I wondered why Cara always said she's praying for us. I didn't share much about my life. I laid back on my bed. The art exhibit. I really wanted to enter, but Mom didn't want paint in her house. The only way I could get five good paintings done was to work more than the two hours I already did after school each day. I would have to lie. It was the only chance I had. Mom would let me stay at school extra on Saturdays if it's for band practice.

The permission slip for the exhibit needed a parent's signature. Dad would sign it when he was distracted with work or a football game just so I'll leave him alone.

I got off the bed and looked in the mirror. Would Mom look at my face and know the truth. Maybe the idea would work and I wouldn't let Mr. Franz down. Next week I would tell her I needed to be at school on Saturdays. My stomach started hurting again, but I got back to studying.

I squirmed in my seat. Mom seemed pretty comfortable. She picked the restaurant for my Birthday. She surprised me and chose this new Italian place with all the red and green everywhere. Grand opening weekend. New buildings are pretty clean.

Mom and Dad discussed what they were ordering and Cara asked, "How is your newest painting coming along." My stomach burned.

"Okay," I whispered. Which one was she talking about? I have two in the art room in different stages. Mom didn't need to know I was painting so much. "How did you do on the History Quiz Wednesday?"

"I only got two wrong. What are you having to eat?"

Would I be able to eat at all? I said, "I'm going to have chicken fingers. You?"

"I think I'll have the same." She turned towards my parents, "Thanks for inviting me along."

After we ordered Cara asked, "Can I give my present now."

Mom tilted her head to one side in deep thought. "I guess that would be okay." Had she forgotten to schedule in Cara's gift?

The bright blue and purple paper rips even though I was cautiously trying to go in through the tape. It was a complete set of acrylic paints and various sizes of brushes. I wished I had told Cara more about my mom.

Mom had started going to a Bible Study at Cara's mom's house about three weeks ago. It Mom said she wanted to understand the Bible more and how to deal with her obsessions, but this is not good.

"Thanks Cara." I slipped the box under the table on my lap. Mom's eyes grew. She forced a smile.

Our drinks arrived and the awkward silence was interrupted.

Mom cleared her throat. "Honey, I wanted to tell you something at dinner and I guess now is a good time. You know I love you and you know I've been trying to deal with my issues." I wanted to believe her, but I'd been teased before by change.

"I know you've been painting and I know about the art exhibit Mr. Frenz wants you to be a part of. I wish I could be supportive, but..."

I felt the gavel dropping on my head. I bent forward to ease the pain in my stomach.

"I realize my issues have been unreasonable in how you have had to behave. I'm trying to talk things out with my doctor and in the Bible Study, but until I get well enough to deal with some of these things you can paint in the garage. As long as I don't have to go in there for anything." The last words flew out fast.

The pain in my stomach turned to colorful butterflies.