3/24/2019

The Painter of Woe

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Letting go takes courage and time. And it seemed like it would not come around soon, to him; the man who could not let go.
The painter woke up from his bed. His room was messy, his paintings were spread in every corner; unorganized. The small window was closed and covered with curtain, so the sunshine could not get in. He sat there, on the edge of the bed, and blankly stared at one of those paintings. The one which was placed right in front of him; the painting of a girl smiling widely. For the whole ten minutes he did not do anything, he did not say anything. All he did was staring at the girl in the painting and drowning into his own thoughts.
Perhaps, he was playing back the tape of his memories with the girl. Or perhaps, just like the other days, he was thinking of unanswered questions and endless what ifs.
He looked around, scanning the paintings he should have sold at the exhibition last week. The name Stefan Scott was once famous, but lately not anymore that he could not sold even one. Then he looked at the grey frame on the small table, to the grey curtain covered the window from the sunshine, to the grey painting near the door; actually, nothing in his room was coloured. They all were shades of black, grey, and white. And it was not only his room, but the whole world that he saw—his world.
It was once coloured.
It was, until the girl in the painting left.
⸙ ⸙ ⸙
It all started in summer, three years ago.
“You’re not coming?” asked Lukas, his not-really-close-but-close-enough friend. Stefan, bringing his drawing book on his hand, walked through the corridor without saying anything. He was kind of done with college. He was surely not the type of students who wore glasses and read twenty books in one week, but he was also not the type to rebel rules and not respect the lecturers either. Stefan was not famous. He was just a normal student. Very ordinary. “Give me your answer, mate,” said Lukas.
“No.”
“Once in a year, no?” Lukas stopped in front of Stefan, making the latter also stopped. “Are you sure? The party? Come on, all of our friends will be there.”
“Yours, not mine,” said Stefan. Lukas was quite different from the others. He was famous but he never tried to be one. Lukas wore glasses and read lots of books but everyone still knew him and wanted to be friends with him. On top of all, he was kind; too kind.
“That’s exactly the reason why you have to come. Socialize and befriend, okay?”
“I don’t want to.”
“But you need to, because you don’t have friends. Do you? Where’s your friend?”
“In front of me.”
Lukas stopped talking. Rather than shocked, he was quite disgusted. “Okay, that’s … not romantic. Disgusting, yes.”
Stefan smiled. “I wasn’t trying to be,” he said, while walking pass through Lukas, leaving the latter in disappoinment. He climbed up the stairs.
“Where are you going?” asked Lukas. Stefan only smiled and Lukas knew where he went. “Why are you always spending your time there? You’re not going to have friends or girlfriend there, you know. Stefan!”
He ignored Lukas and went to the place where he felt the most convenient; the rooftop. It was not large, but no one would ever come which means he could spend his time alone and private. There were rumors about this rooftop; the place where a student committed suicide, where a woman in white was seen in the middle of the night, and other baseless silly rumors. Stefan did not believe any of those, he did not even care. He just wanted a quiet place for him to draw.
And he never thought that today he would be disturbed.
“Oh! I thought I would meet the woman in white they’re talking about, but instead, a man with … a drawing book. Nice.” Stefan turned his head to see a girl in tosca t-shirt with ‘belle âme’ written on it. Stefan did not know how to perfectly described the girl, but the one and only word he could think of was … ethereal. She looked ethereal. Her hair was dark brown that almost looked like black, her eyes were light grey, her skin was a bit pale. She looked friendly and she smiled widely, “Stefan, right?”
Strange. Nobody knew him, except Lukas and some students who paid attention to boring people because they were boring too. “You know me?” asked him.
“Of course! The-weird-boy-who-is-not-interested-in-girls-and-is-secretly-married-to-his-drawing-book Stefan Scott.”
Stefan laughed. “Okay, I never know there’s rumor about me. Thought I’m invisible.”
“No, not really. Because you’re friends with Lukas.”
True, but he was a bit disappointed. “Of course,” he said.
“Do you mind if I see that?” The girl pointed at his drawing book on his lap. “I want to confirm if another rumor about you is true.”
“There is another rumor about me?”
“Yeah.”
“What is it?”
“Let me see it first.” Stefan let the girl took his drawing book. “Hmm. Beautiful,” the girl murmured. She slowly turned the pages, paid attention to his drawings; it was the first time Stefan showed his drawings to someone. Lukas accidentally looked at one of his drawings though, but it did not count because Stefan hurriedly hid it. “That’s the thing about rumors; some of them might be true, and some of them might be wrong. And the second rumor about you is true. They say your drawings are beautiful. It’s true. But they’re full of sadness; your drawings. I like it.” She was the very first person to ever define his drawings as full of sadness.
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“In which way they’re sad? You saw them yourself; they’re bright coloured, they—”

“Do you think everything bright coloured will always be the definition of happiness?”
“Majority.”
“Alone, bored, lonely; that’s what I get from your drawings.”
“Beautiful, bright, happy; that’s what I get from you.”
She laughed. Her eyes sparkled. They were light grey and beautiful; the kind of eyes that could make people get lost in. And he did. Perhaps she knew that Stefan could not looked away from her, the girl asked, “What are you looking at?”
“What’s your name?”
She laughed again. This time, she smiled and said, “Hart. Abigail Hart.”
And that was how they first met. As time passed by, they became close. They frequently met at the rooftop, talking about everything. Stefan began to forget what it felt like to have private drawing session at the rooftop because Abigail was mostly there to accompany him. In a span of three months, he completely knew her because she talked about anything, she brought up different topics to be discussed every single day. He knew she was different, so he was not really surprised when Abigail brought up deep topics like happiness, death, goals in life, sadness, emptiness, etc. Their conversations usually began with ‘what do you think about’ question by Abigail, then Stefan would think and say what was on his mind—while drawing, of course. From those conversations, he found her more beautiful every passing day. She had deep thoughts about everything as if she had been living for ages to learn and finally understand those things.
In a span of a year, Stefan began to join several drawing competitions, exhibit his drawings in an exhibition held by his campus, and do lots of things he never did before. He started to paint on canvas with colorful watercolor. Lukas questioned him one day, “What’s wrong with you?” Lukas did not know anything about Abigail, but Stefan actually planned to tell him. Just not yet. “Actually, it’s not wrong. It just feels weird now that you almost drastically change from who you were before. I’m glad though,” said Lukas. He felt bad for keeping secrets from his not-really-close-but-close-enough friend but Stefan thought it was not the right time yet.
The name Stefan Scott somehow was well-known by every single person in the campus, even though not all of them knew his face. He was also quite well-known outside the campus for being the young talented painter who often asked to participate in competitions and exhibitons. He also did participate in several art workshops and classes as the speaker. All of those improvements that Stefan experienced were because of Abigail Hart. It was her idea to submit his drawings to the competitions. Even though Stefan had ever thought of painting on canvas, it was also Abigail who made it true. The girl was really an important part of his improvement.
Until that night happened. The night when everything went wrong.
“Your paintings somehow becoming different, lately,” said Abigail that night. They were in his car, going back from an art workshop. Before Stefan had the chance to ask, she explained, “Do you remember what I said about your drawings the first time we met?”
“You said they were beautiful and full of sadness.”
“Yes, and I liked it,” said Abigail. “Your paintings now have lost their characteristics.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sadness, Stefan. You lost it.” Abigail looked upset. This was the first time Stefan watched her behaving like that. “Your paintings now look nothing different from the others. Plain painting with no characteristics; no sadness, no deeper meaning, nothing. Just a beautiful painting without soul. You seem to not remember what made you got the recognition; the way you deliver sadness through your paintings. There is beauty in sadness, Stefan.”
It hurt his pride, but Stefan smiled. “Perhaps because I’ve changed, Abigail. I was a boring type of person; alone and empty. But everything changed when you came into my life. You bring me more colors, introduce me to a completely different world, and take me out from the rooftop. You give me happiness—no, you are my happiness.”
“Then I shouldn’t have come to your life.”
“What?” Stefan turned his head to look at Abigail. She looked exactly at his eyes, and he looked back at hers. He forgot he was driving.
“I liked the old Stefan; the boring Stefan. The empty Stefan who poured his sadness and his soul into his drawings. I’m sorry.”
Stefan did not understand. “What … are you sorry for?”
“For what I’m about to do.”
That sentence was the last one from Abigail Hart because the next thing Stefan knew, when he turned his head to look at the front, there were dazzling lights coming from a truck. The accident happened in a very short time that Stefan did not remember anything except him crashed his car into a big tree. He looked at his side and found Abigail was wearing her ‘belle âme’ tosca t-shirt. His memory stopped there because he passed out. He did not even has the chance to make sure if Abigail was alright.
The next morning he woke up in the hospital, the first one he saw was Lukas. “Stefan, are you okay?” Stefan woke up from his bed. His head felt heavy and his right hand looked worse. He saw Lukas worried face, then took time to remember what happened. After he collected all of his memories, he stood up. “Hey, hey! No.”
“Where is she?” he asked worriedly.
Lukas frowned, trying to understand what Stefan asked. “Who?” Ah, Stefan forgot. Lukas did not know Abigail. Then Stefan pushed Lukas and ran outside the room. He tried to go to the administration to get the information, but Lukas also ran behind him. “Stefan. Stefan!”
Stefan stood in front of the administrator and said, “I want to know where is the girl who was sent here with me. Car accident. Abigail Hart.”
“Okay, wait a minute,” said the administrator.
Lukas finally caught up and walked to Stefan. “What are you doing here?”
“The girl, Lukas. Where is she?”
“The girl who?”
“The girl who was sent here with me. Abigail Hart. She was in the car.”
It took a whole five seconds before Lukas finally said something with his deep and doubtful voice. “Actually, no, Stefan. You were alone. You were found alone in the car.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” said the administrator. “He is right. You were alone and there is no record for a girl named Abigail Hart.”

Right after that, Stefan recognized the thing he should have recognized sooner. Lukas’ eyes were grey when they should be light blue. His own shirt was black instead of brown. Stefan slowly looked around and found that everything he saw was only shades of black, grey, and white. Black just like Abigail’s hair, grey as in her beautiful eyes, and white just like her pale skin. There was no red, no blue, no tosca. “Lukas, what’s happening?”
“What? Are you okay? Let’s go back to your room and I’ll call the doctor.”
“Nothing here is coloured.” Stefan still tried to find something, but none. Everything was either black, grey, or white. Once again he looked at Lukas, scared, and asked, “What’s happening to me?”
⸙ ⸙ ⸙
He could not let go of everything that has happened. Not the car accident, not Abigail, not everything.
She was his sunshine. She was the colors of his life.
It had been nine months since the car accident but he still did not know where Abigail was. He spent the whole nine months thinking of all possibilities that might happened that night. The more he thought about it, the more he felt insane. Stefan wanted to come to the rooftop but he was afraid that one of his assumptions was true, so he asked Lukas instead. Lukas said he met no one there. He did not meet the girl as Stefan described and he did not find the name Abigail Hart in the college documents of active students.
Stefan always remembered what she said to him, “That’s the thing about rumors; some of them might be true, and some of them might be wrong.” And then, he thought of the baseless silly rumors about the rooftop that he did not really care about.
What if …
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