The Violinist: Chapter 3

              That night I dreamt of knots of string twisting around and around my head. Each time I tried to disentangle myself, the knots would get tighter and hold me back. There was so much confusion going on, but all I wanted was to get free. I didn’t understand what it meant. Was I in chains? Were the knots keeping me from showing my true colors? My true being? I was ashamed of who I was on the inside, so I didn’t let myself be free. I tied myself away from the world and lived a fake life. When I woke up that morning I didn’t remember the dream.

            I yawned and stretched, wiggling my toes beneath the soft sheets on my bed. I had finally put my room back together and arranged the furniture just the way I liked it. It had been a few nights since I had slept in my comfy bed, and I really appreciated the feel of the mattress after dealing with the couch.

            I had the gift of the early bird. I hardly ever slept in purposely. It was quite lucky actually that I managed to wake up without an alarm clock every morning. I used to think that there was something in my brain that triggered my consciousness at a certain time in the morning and woke me up. Whatever it was, I always had a good night sleep and was never troubled with getting up early for work.

            It wasn’t until I realized who was coming that morning, that my heart sank and I buried my face in my pillow. I groaned and clenched my sheet in my fist. Just the thought of Eli Collins had already ruined my day.

            Don’t come, don’t come, please don’t come, I thought to myself as I waited anxiously at the front desk of Sheldon Arts. I had brought in at least ten samples of my best work in hopes that Eli might think they were alright for an amateur. Anyone could tell I wasn’t expecting him to actually like any of it.

            The door swished as it opened, letting in the morning sunlight across the wooden floor. I shut my eyes tightly, willing myself to believe that nobody was there. Maybe if I ignore him long enough, he’ll leave, I thought.

            “Are you okay?” Eli asked. I opened my eyes and saw him staring at me uneasily. He looked extremely handsome up close, and his blue eyes were so breath-taking that I didn’t know what to say.

            “I… um,” I mumbled. “Good morning.”

            He cocked his head to the side in confusion, but smiled all the same. “Good morning,” he replied. “Emelia, is it?”

            “Yes, but you can call me Leah,” I answered shyly. “And you are Eli?”

            “Yeah, but you can call me Eli,” he laughed. “Three letters is short enough.”

            I tried to laugh, but all that came out was a choked gasp. My heart was throbbing, and I could hardly breathe under his intimidating glance.

            “Are you sure, you’re okay?” he asked worriedly.

            “I’m fine,” I said too quickly. “I mean, it’s just been awhile since anyone has looked at my junk.”

            His eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows in confusion. Almost instantly I realized what I had said wrong.

            “Oh, God! I mean, my stuff! No, I mean my paintings!” I could feel the blood rushing to my face. “It’s junk in my opinion.”

            He chuckled in response. “I get it.”

            I couldn’t believe how idiotic I was being. People never made me nervous. I wasn’t the shy girl. I was the fun, happy, excited girl. What was this guy doing to me? I was being turned inside out. You’re being too dramatic, my conscience told me.

            “So, shall I take a look at your junk?” He laughed at his own joke.

             “Ha-ha,” I said sarcastically. I pointed to where I had laid out my display, and watched him make his way over. I only prayed that he wouldn’t laugh at it.

            At first he just rested his beautiful eyes on the artwork and looked very carefully so not to miss anything. He then furrowed his eyebrows in concentration and folded his arms across his chest. He seemed very interested in his assessment of everything, and he didn’t move for quite some time. After awhile he moved his elbow to rest on his left arm and placed his chin in his palm smartly. At one point I could have sworn he mouthed the word ‘wow’.

            Finally, he caught sight of something that forced a question out of him. “This is a fantastic frame,” he said about one painting that I had worked particularly hard on. “Did you make it yourself?”

            “I did actually,” I said in surprise. I didn’t think he would notice the detail in the frame.

            “How long did it take you?”

            “Well, I would estimate that I spent about two months carving it, but I spent a couple more weeks trying to get it just right. I’m kind of a perfectionist.”

            “Wow,” he marveled, “and the texture of the brush strokes in the painting look great next to the wood design.”

            My jaw dropped. “Really?” I asked.

            “Yes, your style of painting is very unique. I’m surprised you aren’t managing yourself by now.”

            I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “You like it?”

            “You have seriously got to give yourself more credit. For goodness sake, you have a gift, Leah,” Eli said. At least, that was what I thought he said. My increased heart rate was drowning out his voice.

            “How much would you like for this one?” he asked, suddenly.

            “W-what? As in payment?”

            He nodded and smiled. “I was thinking around… six-hundred.”

            “DOLLARS?!” I screeched.

            He jumped in surprise. “Would you like more?”

            “Wait, wait,” I said, trying to control my breathing. “Hold on a minute.” Eli waited patiently, watching me with an amused expression on his face.

            “That is way too much,” I sputtered, regaining my voice.

            “Well, you said you worked really hard for a long time. Shouldn’t I pay you for the labor?”

            “No, no,” I fumed.

            “I mean, I feel like I’d be cheating you out of a sale for anything less. Perhaps less money and a coffee would settle it?” Eli suggested.

            That got me thinking for a moment. I wouldn’t want to be rude and reject the man for coffee, but I didn’t want to take his money either. I was stuck.

            “Look,” I said, taking control of the situation. “Take it. It’s yours.” He looked like he was about to object, but I cut him off. “If it’s such a big deal, then… I’ll settle for that coffee.”

            “I can’t possibly,” he said. “That’s not fair.”

            “Just think of it as a very-first-customer discount,” I smiled. I was feeling generous that day. I thought that maybe Eli would put the word out of my amazing gift if I let him take home my junk.

            “You’re a saint,” he chuckled. Then he looked at me seriously with a small smile on his lips. “Thank you.”

            “No, thank you.”

            He looked at his painting again, admiring it quietly. “It must be amazing to be able to create stuff like this all the time. I only wish I was as good as you painters.”

            I looked at him in confusion. “But, I thought you were an artist,” I said, bewildered.

            “What gave you that idea?” Eli snorted.

            “Well, Denise was going on and on about how talented you are…”

            “Not at painting. I’m not that kind of artist.” The way he said this made it clear that he wasn’t going to tell me what it was that he had a talent for. I didn’t pry.

*****

            “So, is he cute or what?” Amber asked impatiently, leaning closer to me across the dinner table. I hardly even heard her because I was so lost in my thoughts. I began to mash my ravioli with my fork absentmindedly.

            Amber and I had been eating dinner at our favorite bistro when I told her about my first fan. She, being my best friend since high school, was trying to squeeze every juicy detail out of me about the guy. Getting ahead in my line of work was the least of her worries.

            “Leah!” she snapped, getting my attention. I sat upright and flung my fork across the table right on top of her pizza. She groaned and flicked it off her plate. “You’re not listening.”

            “Sorry,” I smiled sheepishly. “I’m just thinking about what Denise is going to say.”
            “Denise, Denise,” she muttered, flipping her wavy red hair behind her shoulder. “All you care about is your boss. Did it ever occur to you that maybe Eli is interested? I mean, he was practically begging you for a date.”

            “Hah!” I snorted. “I guy like that would definitely not be paying any attention to a girl like me.”

            “Why? What is so different about him? He’s just a guy.”

            “No, he’s not just any guy. He’s special,” I heard myself say. I felt like an idiot the minute the words escaped me.

            Amber rolled her eyes. “If he’s so ‘special’, then why let him get away? He’s yours for the taking.”

            “You don’t know that,” I pointed out. “He could have a girlfriend, or maybe he’s married.”

            “If he were either of those things, why would he ask you out?”

            “Because he’s a good person. He wanted to give me six-hundred dollars remember?”

            “Yeah, and if that doesn’t get your attention, I don’t know what will,” she sighed, giving up. Amber had been with her boyfriend for almost a year, so she knew what it was like to have a man she could depend on. I, on the other hand, was not so fortunate with boys in the past. My last boyfriend, Ian, turned out to be a disaster after I caught him in my dorm room with some freshman girl. I didn’t date anyone after that senior year of college.

            “Okay, so what if I do date him, and he turns out just like Ian?” I asked.

            “And what if he doesn’t? Not all guys are like that, Leah. I mean, you even said it yourself. Eli’s special.” Amber was staring at me with her big blue eyes as if forcing me to believe her. “Just let it work itself out. If it’s not meant to be then that’s that.”

            I sighed. “He is pretty adorable.”

            Amber grinned. “So, tell me everything.”

The Violinist: Chapter 2

The sponge fell into the open paint can with a plop. It floated on the surface for a moment before it was slowly engulfed by the light blue paint. It was with a large, bulky sponge that I used to paint my room. It was perfect for what I needed.

After letting it soak up enough paint, I hoisted the sponge from the can and let it drip for a moment. Then, in one swift movement I chucked the thing at the wall. It hit with a loud smack and stuck there for a second or two. Then it slowly moved downward, leaving smeared blue behind it before it fell to the tarp that covered the floor.

I appreciated how it turned out, and nodded in approval. The wall had a large, round blue splat in the center of it with many flecks of paint surrounding it, and the short smear almost gave it a look similar to a tree.

It was then that I decided to open up the other small cans of red, green, yellow, and orange. In these I set a different paint brush. First, I picked up the paint brush in the red can, and flicked its contents at the blue splat on the wall, creating several red dots. I did this again once more with the red, and again with the other colors in the same pattern. This technique created a flurry of color among the light blue base. I fell in love with the design that resembled my ice cream almost instantly. Then, I repeated everything a few more times on the other walls, each design looking somewhat different than the last.

It took me about three hours to paint everything and then clean up. By the time I had completely emptied the room, I was too tired to move back in all of the furniture. Another night sleeping on the couch was fine with me.

The art studio was packed the next day. Denise was having a limited-time sale on almost all of her artwork to celebrate her fortieth birthday. By ten o’clock that morning the gallery was filled with customers anxious to buy any masterpiece they could get their hands on. The phone was ringing off the hook and I was having difficulty handling the huge line at the register. A fight almost broke out between two women who both wanted the same painting, but luckily Denise convinced one of them to purchase a different piece that was similar to the first.

Everything finally started to die down at about three o’clock that afternoon when most of the artwork had been sold. The only few remaining pieces weren’t on sale and they were quite large. I had just about dozed off when the phone rang and scared me half to death.

“Sheldon Arts, how may I help you?” I asked quickly.

“Hello, I was calling to ask if the gallery was busy right now. I don’t have a lot of time and I was wondering if I might make a quick purchase.” It was a man’s voice, and he sounded very polite on the phone.

“No, sir, there isn’t much business right now, but I’m afraid most of the art has been sold from today’s sale,” I explained.

“Well, perhaps I might make a request for Miss Sheldon?” he asked. This surprised me. A customer had never made a request for Denise Sheldon before. I didn’t know what to say.

“Oh, um… I’m not sure she does that, but I can certainly ask her for you.”

“No worries. I will ask her myself. May I come in say… fifteen minutes?”

“Of course. You may come whenever you like, sir,” I said. “May I have your name?”

“Eli Collins,” he said simply.

“Ok, thank you, Mr. Collins,” I said, writing it down on a piece of paper.

“Goodbye.”

I hung up the phone. Denise was going to react to this in one of two ways: she was either going to feel very excited, or very insulted. I thought it best to warn her of the coming stranger.

“Miss Denise?” I asked, peeking my head into her office.

She turned and smiled at me tiredly. She had faint wrinkles that had begun to appear on around her eyes from her growing age. Denise had worked all her life for this job. She got everything she deserved and ever wanted. How I envied her. I couldn’t figure out how she managed to do it.

“Yes, Em, what do you need?” she asked.

“Well, there is a man who is coming here in about fifteen minutes who needs to ask you something. His name is Eli Collins–”

“Eli?!” she exclaimed suddenly. “I haven’t seen that boy in years! The last time I saw him he was about seventeen! A very, very talented boy, that one is. Oh, he is quite a joy to have around.”

“Oh good, you know him,” I sighed.

“Yes, yes he used to work for me when he was in high school. He would clean and run errands for me. His father tore a hole in him about halfway through junior year, though… poor boy.”

“A hole?” I asked, perplexed. Denise was very strange when it came to metaphors, and I never understood what she meant when she used one.

“Yeah, he wasn’t a good man. Kicked out his own son, but Eli never told me why.” Denise reminisced for a moment with a concentrated look on her face before she said, “He’s a great kid. So talented…”

Already I envied Eli. How could he get Denise’s attention so easily? She couldn’t possibly compare me to him after giving him such praise could she? I was done for.

About fifteen minutes later I was sitting at my desk at front of the studio when a young man with messy dark brown hair pushed open the door. My eyes widened when I caught sight of his deep blue eyes. Eli Collins was the man from the ice cream parlor.

My breath caught when he turned to look at me, and I wondered if he would recognize me. He flashed me a smile, and then furrowed his eyebrows in concentration.

“I remember you,” he said suddenly, grinning widely. “You ordered the crazy ice cream last night.”

I laughed lightly. “That’s me.”

He chuckled and asked, “Is Denise available?”

Barely had the words escaped his mouth than the woman came barreling out of her office towards Eli and engulfed him in tight embrace.

“Eli, Eli, Eli!” she sang, squeezing the life out of him. He gasped for air, but smiled all the same. I could tell she meant a lot to him.

“Where have you been all these years?!” she yelled at him.

“Working,” he breathed. “I’ve been working a lot.”

She let go of him and cradled his face in her hands. “Well, I must say the years have been very kind to you. You look great! So thin, so handsome…” she said, examining him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I could say the same to you.”

“Wait, wait you said you have been working? Working where?” she pressed.

“I’ve been in New York. I just moved back a few days ago. They’ve finally set up something for me here.”

“Oh, perfect! Now you can come see me all the time!”

“And take out your trash,” he chuckled. Eli was a very charming young man. He had an air about him that seemed very kind and wise. It was almost as if he had a soul that was too mature for his body. Too old.

“Goodness! I’m so rude. Eli, this is my assistant, Emilia,” Denise said looking at me.

Eli smiled casually as if we were buddies already, and I smiled back.

“So, you have a question?” Denise asked Eli expectantly.

“Yes. I’ve just moved into a new apartment that has very big walls and nothing to cover them. It’s very plain. I wonder if you might paint something for me?”

“Well, there isn’t much to choose from now, but I can paint you up a few things if you like,” she suggested.

“That sounds perfect,” he said.

“In the meantime, though…” she said, turning to me. “Em, you’ve got some samples at your place haven’t you?”

I froze. That had been the first time Denise had ever asked me about my work for as long as I had been employed to her. I blanked for words.

“Perhaps, Em, you could be so kind as to offer him some of your paintings? Eli does have a deep fascination with artwork,” Denise said.

“B-b-but, I don’t really… I mean you don’t want my–” I stuttered.

“Nonsense, how stupid do you think I am?” Denise asked. “I read your resume didn’t I? I know you graduated from art school, so of course you must be good at art.”

“Um…” I muttered, my eyes wide. Now’s your chance, Emelia, I told myself, Now you can show her what you’re made of!

“Sounds good,” Eli interjected. “I’ll be by tomorrow morning to have a look, but for now I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer.”

“That’s fine,” Denise said. “Now, I won’t be here tomorrow because I have an appointment, but Em will be. Also, feel free to have a look around at what is left. It may not be much, but you might like what you see.”

“Alright, then I will see you tomorrow,” he said, smiling at me.

I nodded uneasily, not sure whether I was giving him a smile or a snarl. I couldn’t feel my face very well from all the shock I was experiencing. Whatever I did, Eli looked satisfied enough and hugged Denise goodbye.

            I groaned on the inside. Why did he need to see my stuff? It was my stuff. Good grief, I thought.