Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
As soon as we got inside the center, I could see why they needed volunteers to spruce the place up. The furniture was secondhand, and the paint a bit dulled with age, so I supposed it wasn’t too bad being part of a group doing something for a good cause.
Bethany, a friendly staff member, met us at the door, then led us to where they kept their paint supplies.
“We could really use your help today.” She went on to explain that another group had already begun the task last weekend, including a couple of students who’d seen the flyer at the studio and would be returning to finish a mural in the common room. “Anyone here from the art department today?”
When I lifted my hand, she got the others started on painting the dining hall, then led me toward the entrance and a blank wall where she’d hoped for another mural guests would see as they entered the building. No pressure. “What would you like painted?”
“Anything bright and welcoming. Or symbolic for the community.” She offered me a tired smile, and I got the impression they’d pretty much take anything they could get. “Feel free to use your imagination.”
“Will do. Can you tell me a little bit more about the kids who use these facilities?”
“They’re mostly ages thirteen to eighteen and have had a hard time being themselves in their homes or communities.” She fluffed her bangs absently. “We offer different kinds of therapy and wellness activities, but also just a place to hang out with others they might relate to and forge connections with.”
My gut felt heavy as I considered my upbringing and how much worse it could’ve gone under other circumstances. My family situation might be a bit fucked up, but I didn’t have to suffer much where my sexuality was concerned. Sure, I’d come across people who didn’t get what being bisexual meant and used plenty of stereotypes to describe me, but my life hadn’t been hard where that was concerned, only occasionally frustrating.
“Thanks, Bethany.”
She glanced at the time above the front-desk area. “If you stick around after, you can meet some of the kids,” she said, then took off toward whatever other task she had on her plate. I couldn’t help but admire her dedication.
I stood in front of my blank canvas and considered my options. Why did I feel so much pressure? It was literally a lobby people walked through. But considering the kids who sought this place out and the reasons they needed this as a safe zone, it felt important.
“So, what are you thinking?” Alex asked a few minutes later, sidling up beside me.
I’d taken the opportunity to peek at the mural in the common room and noted that they’d drawn kids of different ages, cultural backgrounds, and disabilities, all gathered together in a circle. The idea would certainly appeal to the teens, who would see themselves represented. That space was bigger than the one in front of me, so I had less square footage to consider, which was a good thing. “Guess I’ll have to surprise you.”
“Don’t be nervous.” He squeezed my shoulder, instantly calming me. How the fuck did he know? “Whatever you decide will be awesome.”
Pretty soon, I got lost in the task and ignored everything except what was in front of me. Someone put on music and laughter floated from the other room, but I blotted it out and worked my tail off for the next few hours.
When all was said and done, I ended up painting a colorful bird, a kind of abstract macaw breaking out of a gilded cage and flying free. Colorful contrails painted the sky behind it as if forging paths of their own. And I hoped to God I hadn’t fucked it up so much that nobody understood what in the hell I was trying to express. By the end, I was really into it and added all sorts of little details, trying to perfect the foreground and add dimension to the scenery.
I was obviously nervous about what the others would think of the final product, but if it was the wrong vibe, I could always paint over it and start again.
Just as I finished adding the words: There’s only one you and your unique vision of the world, I heard a gasp from behind me.
“Holy crap, Remy,” Alex said. “That’s amazing.”
I winced as I glanced over my shoulder at him. “It’s not too dark a theme?”
“No way.” He stepped closer, taking it all in. “I think it’s hopeful.”
“Thank fuck.” I breathed. “That’s what I was going for.”
His hand covered his mouth as his eyes widened.
“What’s wrong?” I asked in a stiff voice.
“That’s…those are a play on my words. The ones I said to you at the art studio.”
I grinned. “I wondered if you’d notice.”