Chapter 7 – Josh's POV

Paint it Black

https://youtu.be/O4irXQhgMqg

To the best of my capacities, I try to be a happy person, but a lot of things do piss me off in life. Like this moment right now, this moment is pissing me off.

There's a huge building being built in town and a group of artist have been hired to deal with the art section, since any construction need to spend a certain percentage of their budget on art. My father has all but forced me to meet up with them because they're still hiring a couple more artists.

Maybe if I was a useless kid right out of college with an art degree I would be running after that opportunity, but right now I should actually be meeting Todd to work on the aesthetic of our app. I don't know how I'll ever be able to make my father understand this, the fact that I don't need more work. I know this feel more respectable to him, but I never cared about respectable. It's like he's never met me.

I guess it's the nature of my father. He always needs me to have a plan. He always needs me to know exactly how things are going to work out. My father didn't teach me how to wield. He taught me how to make the plans to make the sculpture, but not the way to do the sculpture. That's what my dad is. A planner.

From all the conversations I got from people around, my mom was the doer.

Dad's the planner, and mom's the doer.

That sounds kinda kinky.

Anyway, I'm neither. Well, I guess I'm kind of both too. I'm like Bob Ross' happy mistakes. I have no idea what I'm doing or when I'm doing it, but suddenly it'll happen and it'll work.

I can kind of see how that kind of instability could really irk my dad.

So here I am, sitting in front of three pompous baby boomers with no idea what I'm doing here.

I keep wanting to stand up on their desks and just start reciting Nathan's speech in Misfits about our generation fucking up bigger and badder than the others.

I'm a screw-up and I plan to be a screw-up until my late twenties, maybe even my early hirties. And I will shag my own mother before I let her or anyone else take that away from me!

"What's your latest work of art?" one of them asks me. There's three of them, each one more sad looking than the other. It's a mix between old hippies and irrelevant aunt at a family dinner.

"It was a painting for a Victoria Secret commercial," I answer proudly, thinking about mine and Blake's latest act of vandalism.

"Oh really? Anything we might have seen?" she presses.

I grin, trying to look creepy. "Depends if you drive in the bad part of town,"

"Okay..." ¸

Siked! It totally worked.

"Do you have a favourite art medium?" another one of them ask me, obviously trying to change the mood.

I can't let that pass. I have so many options but opt for these, "The blood of ass-virgins. Puppy heads. Glue sticks."

They all look appalled. "Excuse me?"

I ignore their shocked expressions. "I'm thinking about experimenting with mucus, any mucus really. I can just put dye in it."

"I'm not sure if you're trying to be funny or edgy?" one of them says.

I shrug one shoulder. "Which answer will get me the fuck out of here?"

And then the oldest looking one of the punch takes his glasses off and looks at me kind of like he's disappointed with me and says, "Young man, if you don't want to be here, you don't have to be here."

I snort. He's right. I don't want to be here. I don't have to be here. "You know what, you're totally right. Thank you."

And just like that I get up and walk out the door.

What was the point anyway? I don't want this. I think I'm done trying to make my father happy. Whatever I do, he will never be satisfied. It's useless to try to convince myself otherwise.

As I walk out of the building I call Todd. The second he answers I ask him, "Did you miss me?"

"Depends," I can hear the hesitation in his voice, "Where are you?"

"In an abandoned house close from here you live kneeling in front of the shrine I made for you while touching myself."

"Hey Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm hanging up now." And just like that the call is disconnected.

I laugh alone and call him again. When he picks up I greet him with a "Toooooooodd."

I hear him sighing at my antics. "If we keep rewarding you for saying messed up shit you'll never learn."

I'm grinning alone. "I love you Todd."

I can feel how annoyed he is with me. It's awe-some. "I don't feel special. You love anything that gives you attention."

"And that has smooth skin, let's not forget that," I add.

He groans. "If you start talking about your dolphin shit again I'm hanging up."

I laugh, but stop kidding around. "I won't. I'll be professional. I'm actually free. Should we meet up to work on the app?"

"Well, since you cancelled our plans I made others," he answers, a little sheepishly this time.

I gasp very dramatically and loudly. "Who are you cheating on me with?"

"My mother."

"You mama's boy," I tease him, "Tell Patricia I send her my love and that I'm still single and disease free."

"Hey Josh?"

"Yeah?"

He doesn't even say anything else and hangs up on me again. I grin at my phone.

I'm sitting in my car now and I'm not sure what to do. I could call Blake but he's probably busy mooning over his Lexi.

I start driving, not really sure where I'm going until I suddenly realize I'm close to my mother's favourite park, the one where she died.

Maybe this will do me some good, soak up in the place she once loved. I never feel close to my mother aside from when I come here.

So I park my car.

I grab cat treats from my glove compartment and make my way to a bench.

And I wait. I don't see any cats at the moment, but I now some are hidden around. Any one of them brave enough to come see me will get a treat.

I wonder if my mother ever sat at this specific place. I wonder if she would be proud of me. I only know the version of her that other people knew. It's like knowing her through a filter. People only kept the parts that worked for them. They've all got different versions of her. All of them were her, but at the same time, none of them are.

I know I'll never be able to truly know my mother. I've resign myself of this fact years ago. It doesn't sting any less though.

I hear a throaty definitely sexy laugh and look in its direction.

Wait a second... is that? I get up, take a few steps forward. I stop.

Yes. It's her. It's the Flea Market Girl. For a fraction of a second, my heart leaps in my chest.

And then crashes twenty stories down on the hard asphalt.

She's not alone. She's holding hands with some dude, skipping around him happily. They look like they're joking around and they're smiling at each other and fuuuuuck.

Of course.

She's perfect. It would have been ridiculous to think she wasn't already taken.

My heart stings at this realization. More than stings actually. It's like someone just punched me in the chest and in the gut.

I don't want to be here anymore. I leave the cats and the girl and walk away.

I get back in my car. This park is not a happy park. It's never brought anything good to my family. It shouldn't have come here. If I hadn't known about her boyfriend, at least I could have lived on with the nice memory and kept the possibility of something else close to my heart.

I had hoped I would see her again. I had hoped we could have maybe had something. I wasn't holding my breath for it, but this tiny speck of hope just made me feel good inside whenever I dreamt about the possibilities. My hopes are gone now.

I sigh. I shake my head.

No use in wallowing. I'm better than this. It's okay. I'm okay. I never needed a girlfriend anyway.

I start my car and drive away.