Kate applied the finishing touches to her painting and dropped the brush. Parting her brown hair to the side, she surveyed her work. A small smile graced her lips as she admired her work. The painting stared back at her. Simple yet unique. The painting of a field by a river. The field was adorned by trees and flowers. A small glance to the wall clock at the left and she knew it would soon be time. Soon enough, there was a knock on her door.
“Come in.” She said without turning around.
There was no need to. She already knew who was there. This was quite a routine. The door opened and a middle aged lady stepped in. Her brown hair had gray streaks at the sides and was packed in a loose bun. Her sharp brown eyes reflected behind a pair of spectacles balanced on her nose. If it wasn’t for her age, it would be hard to differentiate between her and Kate.
“Mum, I have thirty minutes more.” Kate sighed and turned around.
“I know, sweetheart.” Mrs Russel smiled. “ I’m not here to rush you or anything. I just came to see your painting of today.”
“Oh.” Kate replied. She stepped aside and her mother walked towards the painting and stared at it.
“I like it.” Mrs. Russel nodded in admiration.
“Of course you would.” Kate shrugged with a smile. “I painted it.”
“Is that haughtiness I detect in your tone, young lady?” Mrs Russel glanced at her in mock surprise. “I raised you better than that.”
“I’m sorry, Mum.” Kate replied playing along and feigning sadness. “It won’t happen again.”
“It better not.” Her mother said and they both laughed.
Silence enveloped the room and the two females stared at the painting, each with different thoughts of their own. The painting was a constant reminder and homage to the only member of the family who was not there with them.
Kate Russel had always been a lover of Art from the very tender age of five. Her father, Jack was a content writer for a health blog until his death when she was 10. The death was a big blow to the women. Her mother went into depression and it almost cost her health. Kate took to painting and some of her works were sold to help support her mother and also pay homage to her father as she always remembered his words:
‘Sometimes your skills are something you learn. Most times, they are something you are born with. But one thing I know is that most times most people use their art to communicate. Especially introverts like us’
And that was exactly who she was: Kate Russel. An Introvert. A young lady with a very small circle of friends. And when she wanted to speak, she painted. Her painting mostly reflected her mood. If she was bright and happy, it was the painting of nature. If she was depressed, it was the painting of fire or dark clouds.
Mrs. Russel cleared her throat, bringing them back to the present.
“It’s time for school, young lady. Let’s move.” She turned to her daughter.
An hour later and the corridor of jostling students, Kate wished she could just turn around and go back home and start the just concluded holiday all over again. Every students had their pairs. Jocks, Cheerleaders, Nerds and even music bands. Everyone was excited and talking about how the holiday went and what they did.
Kate adjusted her pink scarf and tucked her hair behind her ear, then moved towards her locker. Moving through the sea of the students, she shrugged inwardly as no one paid her attention. She was used to it by now. At sixteen, she was used to solitude and she enjoyed it very much. When she was around many people and felt just a twinge of attention from as much as just three people, she felt like she was trapped in a cage.
Opening her locker, she ransacked it to gather her books and get started when she suddenly noticed a small white note at the corner. Raising her eyebrows in curiosity, she picked it up and peered at it. There was obviously some words written in it:
‘Hey, Katie. Been trying to reach you on your phone but it barely goes through. Anyway, by the time you open this locker, you’ll get this. Welcome back to school. Hope you had a nice holiday.
Love, Ted.’
