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Pieces Of My Heart (Art)
#WritcoStoryChallenge
The painting was yellowed with rounded edges. It was a masterpiece and it was lying in my hand. Wait, have I stolen it? I don't remember...
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copyright © 2020. a_adewumi. All Rights Reserved.
I looked around my small bedroom, void of any furniture except the bed pushed to the corner and wardrobe blocking the window. Two cats lazily stretched on the floor, quietly walking around the room till they were out of sight.
I raked my hand through my short spiky brown hair, framing my head but too short to surpass my neck. A yawn escaped my lips as I stretched, blanket pooling at my waist as I looked around again with sleepy eyes.
I slipped from the bed, soft slippers placed beside my bed as I slipped into them; mewling at the soft fur caressing my heels and underside of my feet.
I walked directly to the kitchen, heading starught for the landline to check for any recorded voicemail, preferably from my ex boyfriend or the new job application I applied for Twp nights ago. Obviously they hadn't contacted me for a reason; I wasn't fit enough, but I could hope even without an evident chance.
I worked as an Interior Designer for five years before I moved from Dallas to California, tailing my ex boyfriend like a desperate puppy. We were in love, planning to get married after settling in, but now it's just a fairytale.
A painting caught my eye, stopping me dead on my tracks. Stemina, the black cat with lemon green eyes was curled around a painting of a couple, basking under a realistic sunset. I gasped, fear settling deep in my guts. I shooed the cat away from the painting, sighing in irritation when it meowed in defiance. It curled itself more, head resting on its fur until I moved it out of the way with a bowl of cat food sitting in the kitchen center.
Holding it in my soft fingers, I was afraid it would slip and fall. "I didn't buy a painting last night, or did I?" I murmmed.
I jumped startled when the phone rang, a deep vibration in the once quiet room, save for the occasional chat noises. I tucked the painting under my armpit, hesitant to pick the phone. For all I know, it could be the owner of the painting asking for money I didn't have to pay for a painting I didn't know about.
A low buzz echoed in the kitchen from the phone hanging on the wall, a clear tone of an incoming voicemail. I took a deep breath, careful placing the painting on the Kitchen island's flat surface, fear once more controlling my decision.
"Hello? Jamie? It's Aaron, just checking up on you." There was a brief pause. "I miss you, like a lot... And I was just wondering if, you know, if you would mind getting coffee with me tomorrow morning."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, relief coursing through my veins. So it wasn't the Police, or the owner of the painting, or even a job offer. Instead, it was my ex boyfriend for five years, good memories.
"So yeah, just call me back or something. You know why right? To give me a reply, maybe yes, or no. I'm really hoping you say yes." He let out a strained chuckle. "If you say no, it'll be fine. I just, really miss you. So yeah, call me back."
I tapped my nails on the Kitchen Island surface, patient for him to continue. "So yeah, bye Jamie."
I sighed again, contemplating my response to his request. He misses me, and I miss him so much. There's no point in drifting apart when we both wanted the same thing; to avoid loneliness.
Raliya, the white cat meowed loudly, maneuvering her way around my legs. Her fur tickling my hairless legs, she didn't seem to care in the least bit. I looked down at her, widnering what she wanted from me before discarding the thought once more.
The painting caught my eye again and this time, I stared at it, absorbing the blend of colours and obvious technique used by the painter. The shadow of a couple, basically a small outline of their figure was a mixture of pink, purple and a dark blue-black. The man had his partner in his arms, her legs hanging from the floor. I couldn't see her face but it would have been one of excitement judging from the glint of mixed white and grey from her fingers around the man's shoulder.
I looked at the tree behind the man. It looked like a dying tree, just branches and a few leaves at the tip of smaller branches. Or maybe it was Autumn since some leaves were on the grass beneath their feet. The tree was a dark shade of black but a terribly dark shade.
Connecting the horizon to the floor was a half sun, a sunset. Mixtures of yellow, orange, pink and the darkest shade of blue captivated the nature of the sunset.
I shook my head, clearing my head from the trance the painting had on me.
"Who do you think it's from?" I asked my Raliya, she cocked her head before joining Stemina, who was hovering over a bowl of milk. Their tongues darting into the milk, licking it from their tongue once more.
"Did I drink last night?" I asked myself. "What if I did?"
The cats looked at me again before looking back at the cat food beside the milk. "What if I stole it!?"
They hissed harshly, flinching at the tone of my voice before going back to their meal.
"I can't handle this." I whispered to myself, walking back to the bedroom. Oblivious to the cursive writing at the corner of the painting.
The phone rang loudly from the kitchen. I covered my ears from the intensity of the ringing tone. My cellphone laid on my window pane, lacking internet connection due to my lack of a job.
I dragged my feet back to the kitchen, ignoring the painting on the Kitchen Island surface to pick up the ringing phone.
"Hello?" I yawned, using the back of my hand to cover my mouth.
"Yes. Is this Jamie?" I felt cold, the voice was unfamiliar to me.
"Who's this?" I asked, standing up straight in fear. "Who are you?"
"I will be asking the questions, Miss Patter." The deep masculine voice sent sensation thriugh my spine.
"I will hang up right now." I emptily threatened, knowing how terrifies I was of a stranger I that knew my name.
"Wait." He rushed out. "You don't remember, do you?"
I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, forgetting he couldn't see me. "Who is this?"
"You don't remember?" He sounded pained. "We had a mind blowing se-"
"Hold it right there." I interrupted. "Who are you?"
He sighed in irritation. "Evan. Evan Ringer."
I froze in fear. "Evan?"
"Yes, that's me. You exchanged your son for my painting, remember?" He sounded amused. "Now he's being a little brat, whining about his mother. I want my painting back, it's meant to be sold by noon."
"What-"
"I'll be waiting by the Old Trickers Studio with your son, who not so kindly told me his name is Mikey, not little brat." He sighed. "You bring my painting in one piece. It's extremely expensive so don't do anything at all."
"My son isn't a brat." I harshly said.
"And I'm the President of America." He said sarcastically. "Noon."
He cut the call, leaving me dumbfounded at his blatant rudeness. How dare he call my son a brat? Sure Mikey can be overly blunt, whiny and uncaring of other's convenience, but that didn't make him a brat. He is a sweetheart in front of his father.
I took a shower quickly, hurrying into my clothes, in a hurry to catch up with the time when I realized it was well past eleven. By the time I was done, it remained ten minutes till noon and I was rushing out the door, barely scratching the ears of my cats and locking the door behind me.
I was lucky enough to catch the bus before it left, picking the spare change in my purse to pay before panting while sitting on the joint seat.
It was a five minutes ride from my apartment to the Old Trickers Studio, much more farther on foot which would extend to ten minutes, that I didn't have to spare.
I clutched my purse to my arm, wary of how overdressed everyone else was while I stood there in a jeans and top.
"Jamie?" I jumped, started once more. I turned behind me, immediately taken back by the beauty of the man infront of me.
"You're Evan, right?" I asked for confirmation.
"Where is it?" He asked, his hands tucked in his pocket.
"Where is what?" I asked in confusion.
"The painting." He said in irritation. "Where is my painting?"
I blinked, horror stricken on my face. "You left it at home! Dammit!"
"No, no. It's here." I looked around, seeing the painting leaning of the wall. "Where's Michael?"
"Mikey?" He asked. "He's over there. You didnt destroy it, thank goodness for that."
His deep jaw line had deep dimples on both cheeks, eyebrows crafted in perfection. I looked at his eyes, a honey brown perfection, like the sunset in his painting. I looked down at his lips, a small bow on the upper lip and a thick lower lips adorning mouth, a long thick tongue darted out to wet his lips.
"I'm not a child." I whispered.
"Is he mine?" He ignored my statement.
"What?" I looked his messy brown hair, shining under the lights.
"Mikey. Is he mine?" He asked again.
"No. I don't even know you." I said harshly, ignoring the thudding of my heartbeat.
"Really Jamie?" He laughed. "I know he's mine. You've either forgotten Aaron cheated on you so you cheated back with me, or you have a really terrible memory."
I did the stupidest thing ever, blushing at the truth of his words. So I blinked, avoiding his gaze.
-----
This is my entry!
Follow me on Instagram - @Xter_a
Follow me here, I just started out.
If you liked it, you can wait for me to publish my stories soon!
The painting was yellowed with rounded edges. It was a masterpiece and it was lying in my hand. Wait, have I stolen it? I don't remember...
-----
copyright © 2020. a_adewumi. All Rights Reserved.
I looked around my small bedroom, void of any furniture except the bed pushed to the corner and wardrobe blocking the window. Two cats lazily stretched on the floor, quietly walking around the room till they were out of sight.
I raked my hand through my short spiky brown hair, framing my head but too short to surpass my neck. A yawn escaped my lips as I stretched, blanket pooling at my waist as I looked around again with sleepy eyes.
I slipped from the bed, soft slippers placed beside my bed as I slipped into them; mewling at the soft fur caressing my heels and underside of my feet.
I walked directly to the kitchen, heading starught for the landline to check for any recorded voicemail, preferably from my ex boyfriend or the new job application I applied for Twp nights ago. Obviously they hadn't contacted me for a reason; I wasn't fit enough, but I could hope even without an evident chance.
I worked as an Interior Designer for five years before I moved from Dallas to California, tailing my ex boyfriend like a desperate puppy. We were in love, planning to get married after settling in, but now it's just a fairytale.
A painting caught my eye, stopping me dead on my tracks. Stemina, the black cat with lemon green eyes was curled around a painting of a couple, basking under a realistic sunset. I gasped, fear settling deep in my guts. I shooed the cat away from the painting, sighing in irritation when it meowed in defiance. It curled itself more, head resting on its fur until I moved it out of the way with a bowl of cat food sitting in the kitchen center.
Holding it in my soft fingers, I was afraid it would slip and fall. "I didn't buy a painting last night, or did I?" I murmmed.
I jumped startled when the phone rang, a deep vibration in the once quiet room, save for the occasional chat noises. I tucked the painting under my armpit, hesitant to pick the phone. For all I know, it could be the owner of the painting asking for money I didn't have to pay for a painting I didn't know about.
A low buzz echoed in the kitchen from the phone hanging on the wall, a clear tone of an incoming voicemail. I took a deep breath, careful placing the painting on the Kitchen island's flat surface, fear once more controlling my decision.
"Hello? Jamie? It's Aaron, just checking up on you." There was a brief pause. "I miss you, like a lot... And I was just wondering if, you know, if you would mind getting coffee with me tomorrow morning."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, relief coursing through my veins. So it wasn't the Police, or the owner of the painting, or even a job offer. Instead, it was my ex boyfriend for five years, good memories.
"So yeah, just call me back or something. You know why right? To give me a reply, maybe yes, or no. I'm really hoping you say yes." He let out a strained chuckle. "If you say no, it'll be fine. I just, really miss you. So yeah, call me back."
I tapped my nails on the Kitchen Island surface, patient for him to continue. "So yeah, bye Jamie."
I sighed again, contemplating my response to his request. He misses me, and I miss him so much. There's no point in drifting apart when we both wanted the same thing; to avoid loneliness.
Raliya, the white cat meowed loudly, maneuvering her way around my legs. Her fur tickling my hairless legs, she didn't seem to care in the least bit. I looked down at her, widnering what she wanted from me before discarding the thought once more.
The painting caught my eye again and this time, I stared at it, absorbing the blend of colours and obvious technique used by the painter. The shadow of a couple, basically a small outline of their figure was a mixture of pink, purple and a dark blue-black. The man had his partner in his arms, her legs hanging from the floor. I couldn't see her face but it would have been one of excitement judging from the glint of mixed white and grey from her fingers around the man's shoulder.
I looked at the tree behind the man. It looked like a dying tree, just branches and a few leaves at the tip of smaller branches. Or maybe it was Autumn since some leaves were on the grass beneath their feet. The tree was a dark shade of black but a terribly dark shade.
Connecting the horizon to the floor was a half sun, a sunset. Mixtures of yellow, orange, pink and the darkest shade of blue captivated the nature of the sunset.
I shook my head, clearing my head from the trance the painting had on me.
"Who do you think it's from?" I asked my Raliya, she cocked her head before joining Stemina, who was hovering over a bowl of milk. Their tongues darting into the milk, licking it from their tongue once more.
"Did I drink last night?" I asked myself. "What if I did?"
The cats looked at me again before looking back at the cat food beside the milk. "What if I stole it!?"
They hissed harshly, flinching at the tone of my voice before going back to their meal.
"I can't handle this." I whispered to myself, walking back to the bedroom. Oblivious to the cursive writing at the corner of the painting.
The phone rang loudly from the kitchen. I covered my ears from the intensity of the ringing tone. My cellphone laid on my window pane, lacking internet connection due to my lack of a job.
I dragged my feet back to the kitchen, ignoring the painting on the Kitchen Island surface to pick up the ringing phone.
"Hello?" I yawned, using the back of my hand to cover my mouth.
"Yes. Is this Jamie?" I felt cold, the voice was unfamiliar to me.
"Who's this?" I asked, standing up straight in fear. "Who are you?"
"I will be asking the questions, Miss Patter." The deep masculine voice sent sensation thriugh my spine.
"I will hang up right now." I emptily threatened, knowing how terrifies I was of a stranger I that knew my name.
"Wait." He rushed out. "You don't remember, do you?"
I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, forgetting he couldn't see me. "Who is this?"
"You don't remember?" He sounded pained. "We had a mind blowing se-"
"Hold it right there." I interrupted. "Who are you?"
He sighed in irritation. "Evan. Evan Ringer."
I froze in fear. "Evan?"
"Yes, that's me. You exchanged your son for my painting, remember?" He sounded amused. "Now he's being a little brat, whining about his mother. I want my painting back, it's meant to be sold by noon."
"What-"
"I'll be waiting by the Old Trickers Studio with your son, who not so kindly told me his name is Mikey, not little brat." He sighed. "You bring my painting in one piece. It's extremely expensive so don't do anything at all."
"My son isn't a brat." I harshly said.
"And I'm the President of America." He said sarcastically. "Noon."
He cut the call, leaving me dumbfounded at his blatant rudeness. How dare he call my son a brat? Sure Mikey can be overly blunt, whiny and uncaring of other's convenience, but that didn't make him a brat. He is a sweetheart in front of his father.
I took a shower quickly, hurrying into my clothes, in a hurry to catch up with the time when I realized it was well past eleven. By the time I was done, it remained ten minutes till noon and I was rushing out the door, barely scratching the ears of my cats and locking the door behind me.
I was lucky enough to catch the bus before it left, picking the spare change in my purse to pay before panting while sitting on the joint seat.
It was a five minutes ride from my apartment to the Old Trickers Studio, much more farther on foot which would extend to ten minutes, that I didn't have to spare.
I clutched my purse to my arm, wary of how overdressed everyone else was while I stood there in a jeans and top.
"Jamie?" I jumped, started once more. I turned behind me, immediately taken back by the beauty of the man infront of me.
"You're Evan, right?" I asked for confirmation.
"Where is it?" He asked, his hands tucked in his pocket.
"Where is what?" I asked in confusion.
"The painting." He said in irritation. "Where is my painting?"
I blinked, horror stricken on my face. "You left it at home! Dammit!"
"No, no. It's here." I looked around, seeing the painting leaning of the wall. "Where's Michael?"
"Mikey?" He asked. "He's over there. You didnt destroy it, thank goodness for that."
His deep jaw line had deep dimples on both cheeks, eyebrows crafted in perfection. I looked at his eyes, a honey brown perfection, like the sunset in his painting. I looked down at his lips, a small bow on the upper lip and a thick lower lips adorning mouth, a long thick tongue darted out to wet his lips.
"I'm not a child." I whispered.
"Is he mine?" He ignored my statement.
"What?" I looked his messy brown hair, shining under the lights.
"Mikey. Is he mine?" He asked again.
"No. I don't even know you." I said harshly, ignoring the thudding of my heartbeat.
"Really Jamie?" He laughed. "I know he's mine. You've either forgotten Aaron cheated on you so you cheated back with me, or you have a really terrible memory."
I did the stupidest thing ever, blushing at the truth of his words. So I blinked, avoiding his gaze.
-----
This is my entry!
Follow me on Instagram - @Xter_a
Follow me here, I just started out.
If you liked it, you can wait for me to publish my stories soon!
