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Bea had awoken to being bundled up with one Jordan Henderson. After her black out, drunken bout she came to realize that she had her arms about the man and he his arms around her. The warmth of the blanket encapsulated both. She hardly knew what to think of the situation, only that she had likely caused herself to be in such a state to have her arms wrapped around the strong body. She waited only a little while before shaking the boy awake and driving them both home. She thought it strange he should kiss her cheek before leaving the truck but said nothing about it.
Once back, she was accosted by the dads and she told them all she could remember of the party. They cooed and soothed when she spoke of the fight. They rallied in indignation when she told them about the kiss with Santiago. They beamed when she spoke of what she remembered of the dance with Jordan. All in all it had been a wild night and her fathers were quite supportive of her triumphs and mistakes. She went to bed that night feeling quite pacified.
The next morning brought a sublime headache and rolling stomach on beams of sunlight which kissed the dust particles floating in the air. She remained in bed while the dads brought her coffee, water, and pain medication. She was offered simple and light foods which she nibbled at like a poor, sick woman during a flu pandemic of old.
It had been late in the day when she finally felt well enough to sit up and attempt to tap out many an apology on her cellphone to Mara. Unfortunately, none seemed quite good enough, especially since she couldn’t quite remember what it had been that had her so upset in the first place. So she sent nothing. Foolish, drunken rantings to which she did not know how to offer words of her mortification. Her day ended in her studio painting a nighttime seascape with a soft blanket on the beach and footprints leading away from it.
By Sunday the beach painting had become a series of pictures. Each one made her heart pound for some curious reason. She could not explain it. Especially when the pounding became an ache while thinking of one Jordan Henderson. She had offered him only a few texts throughout the weekend to ensure he was well. Each time her phone buzzed, her little heart pounded wildly enough, and her stomach danced butterflies in such a way to make her think something was wrong. No longer could it be blamed on the hangover though.
Monday brought with it school. She had made a magnificent watercolor of an aristocratic masquerade. Fine ball gowns, gentleman in tail coats, expressive masks all with their champagne glasses held high in a toast. It was the front of a card. On the inside, in curling and magnificent calligraphy – shining, glittering ink, was a message for Diablo. Short and sweet.
‘Thank you again for hosting such a fine party. It was delightful, and I look forward to the next one. -Bea’Such a card was demanded by good manners, as her fathers had taught her. In an envelope she pushed it through the slats of Santiago’s locker so that he may find it. There was no way she was about to hand it to him in person. He might try to… kiss her… again. Her face heated up at the mere thought and she brushed some of her bushy curls over her face to help hide her excited fear at the thought of kisses.
Today was not a good day for the girl. She didn’t show up to any of her classes and instead spent all her time in the art room. On days like this it was best to leave her be. The art teacher had learnt to allow her to put in ear phones and paint as she saw fit. It happened rarely but in such a distressed state she could become easily agitated. It was better to let her work out the emotion she didn’t understand than to try to force Bea to do maths. Thanks to a special understanding between her fathers and the school, as well as a large donation, when she became like this she could do as she pleased.
And so, Bea sat in her little corner of the art room and painted, not a scene of the night ocean, but one more abstract. Dark shapes shrouded in a misty and deep pink. There was warmth and comfort in the painting and the dark shapes had a sense of being intertwined, though no human form could be made out. Why couldn’t she remember how Jordan and she had become so entangled that night? Her heart fluttered and attempted to beat its way of her chest. She grabbed at her school uniform over the place as Hozier crooned – “We should just kiss like real people do.”
Was she dying? Oh god. She hoped she wasn’t. She was so young. There was so much to see, to do, to paint! The young woman didn’t realize the bell had rung until she saw from the corner of her eye the last class before lunch begin to shuffle out of the room. She had messed up most of her schedule for the day by remaining in the art room through the morning. This made Bea all the more agitated, much to preoccupied in her own mind to give much thought beyond her next steps.
In an attempt to regain some of her composure she went and washed her brushes clean diligently. Placing her painting to the side to dry, she exited the room and headed for the courtyard for lunch. It was usually a quiet place. Surprisingly few students came to the inner sanctum of the school. Old and twisted trees lived here. Wild flowers grew all around, getting dangerously close to cement tables. The plants were tended by a horticulture club that always came second or third to other clubs. There was only a young couple for company. They kissed and cuddled beneath an apple tree, leaving Bea to her own thoughts. Which was thankful. And somehow distressing. She didn’t wish to speak to anyone. But their kisses made the butterflies in her belly burn. Her mind and soul were much too addled by the weekend. She could not be proper company at this time.
From her school bag she pulled out a tin lunchbox with an image of Boy George on it. Inside was her usual lunch. It consisted of a tomato and mayonnaise sandwich, a Granny Smith apple, and a Capri Sun. This had been her lunch for as long as she could remember and would be for the foreseeable future. Papa E grew the tomatoes himself.
She crunched and munched at her lunch. Going over homework which would be turned in late. Bea would ensure it got into the right hands before the end of the day. She also had to talk to someone about the way her heart missed beats or beat much too hard. Bea was terrified for she had NEVER experienced such a phenomenon in her entire life. As she watched the couple enjoy a passionate (and grossly slobbery) kiss thoughts of Jordan came back to her and her heart ached once again.
She was dying.
She had to be dying.
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