"Eva, stay still!"
"It's so hard too!" I laugh at Sam's exclamation. She rolls her eyes from behind the canvas that she's working on and then giggles.
"I can't sketch you if you don't stop moving," she says and puts down her pencil on the small table next to her. She crosses her arms and jokingly pouts.
"You try not being able to move for two hours," I tell her and she chuckles.
"Hey, I've had to be a model for class before and I was able to stay still, so girl, please stop moving so much. Otherwise I won't be able to sketch you accurately."
"Okay, okay, I'll try to be still," I say once I get my giggles out. I try to keep my body in the same position while also keeping the same facial expression I had before I had started laughing.
I couldn't help but laugh because I feel silly sitting in silence and not being able to move at all for hours. Right now, Sam's only doing a rough sketch and then she will go back in later with her paints. I asked her earlier if Reina was easy to sketch and Sam said she was awful because she kept forgetting that she had to stay still in the same spot. She also kept singing along to the music they had playing so now Sam doesn't play music when she has someone modeling for her.
The small metal stool I'm sitting on is uncomfortable and the art studio is pretty cold, but I manage to sit completely still like a statue while Sam quietly sketches me, her pencil scratches being the only noise in the room. My head is slightly tilted and the corners of my lips are turned up some in a smile.
"What are you thinking about?" Sam questions after 15 minutes of silence and her sketching.
"I'm thinking of happiness," I say, trying to not move my mouth very much.
"Anything specific?"
Not really," I answer. "Just in general. I'm really happy with everything."
"I'm glad."
Without turning my head, I move my eyes towards her and she smiles. "I only ever want to see you be happy."
"Thanks Sam."
My lips turn up a little bit in a slight smile at her and then I move my eyes back to the local art exhibit poster on the wall that I had been staring at since we started. The studio then becomes silent again, Sam concentrating on her sketch and me starting to replay the memories from last weekend that make my eyes shine bright with happiness. Sam is sure to get a good perspective to capture on her canvas from the happy emotion that covers my face as I think of a great moment.
"Come on give me it back, babe," Tre said, holding out his hand to grab the sack of flour from my grasp.
We were in his kitchen and I wanted to bake chocolate chip cookies, but Tre had other ideas once I got out all the ingredients and was starting to measuring out everything. One little flick of flour and it was now a full blown battle, the cookie agenda completely forgotten about.
I clutched the flour tighter to my chest and shook my head. "No can do. I had it first."
I took a look at his black t-shirt that is now covered in flour and I grin shamelessly. Once he had started flicking flour onto me, I reached my hand in and threw a whole handful onto his shirt.
"I'm gonna get you back for that." Tre pointed to his shirt and then to me and I giggled.
"Hey, you started it by flicking flour on my face." I told him, still keeping the sack close to me and staying behind the counter so I have some distance from Tre, who's on the opposite side.
"It was only a little bit and you threw handfuls at me."
"Aw," I pouted. "Is little Tre afraid of some flour on his clothes?"
He smirked and shook his head. "You're so gonna get it."
"You have to catch me first," I smirked back and I moved to the opposite side of the counter that had Tre started to move towards.
"Eva," he drew out and I stuck my hand in the flour, getting ready to aim and fire.
Tre," I said back in the same tone.
He stretches his arm out with his hand open. "Give me the flour."
"No." I smirked and he quickly moved toward me and I flung my arm out, covering some of his head and chest with the flour.
I laughed and moved towards the refrigerator where it seemed safe. Tre grabbed one of the wooden spatulas on the counter and held it up in front of him like a sword.
"You better give me that or you're gonna be in trouble."
"Oh I'm so sacred," I teased and smirked. "What are you going to do? Punish me?"
He smirked too and bit his lip. "Baby, you know you'd like that."
He quickly moved toward me again, this time grabbing the flour and ripping it out of my hands.
In my protests, he grabbed a handful and started covering me in the powder.
"Tre!" I squealed and out my hands up to try and guard myself but it was no use.
"You started this whole thing! You're the one that wanted to bake cookies!"
"Yes cookies! I didn't mean for you to take that as an invitation to start a food fight!" I laugh back and we start playfully wrestling around the kitchen.
In our playful banter and wrestling, we somehow managed to drop the flour all onto the floor and forget about the mess we had made of the whole kitchen. First it was throwing flour, then it was me pulling Tre by his shirt towards me and us making out among the baking disaster. Soon our clothes were off and Tre was thrusting inside me, us both moaning and groaning in the, thankfully, empty apartment. This time, instead of being bent over the countertop, Tre picked me up and took me against the wall.
In the two weeks after Tre took my virginity, we had spent a lot more time learning each other's bodies and needs. The second time we had sex, Tre focused on brining me to my release, which didn't take long once we figured out that I needed more stimulation than just him penetrating me. After that, we both discovered the right ways to pleasure each other. Since then, we both haven't been able to get enough of each other. I can't really believe that I have now become more comfortable with giving my body to Tre and reaching new, pleasurable heights with him. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I love him and I want to show him that I do. Same goes for him, even though he still hasn't actually said it back yet.
From being with Tre, I've learned that love and relationships require a lot of patience. Nothing always comes fast and you have to wait and give your partner time to feel ready to share with you. From the beginning, I knew that Tre was not going to open up so easily. But we've made progress and I don't want to push or pressure him to reveal more of his feelings for me. If I push too hard, he'll start closing up and we'll be back to square one. From the way that he treats me, I know that he does love me. His actions show it. In anything we do, he always makes sure that I am comfortable and safe first before he thinks of himself. He'll sometimes leave me little notes or a few lines of a poem he wrote for me. Sometimes they're on a post it note or in a text message. He does it at random times to surprise me. I like being able to experience this side of him. A little touch of sweetness that feeds into my happiness. And only I get to see this side of him, no one else.
I can feel him letting me in more, little by little. The more time we spend together, the more time we talk, I feel like I am getting to know him in a much deeper way than before.
"I've never told anybody the things I've told you," he said to me one night when we were cuddled up in his bed.
We were listening to music with the lights off, staring up at the ceiling and watching the shadows from the light outside the window dance across the walls.
"I honestly never thought I would be able to open up to someone as much as I've done with you."
I turned my body to face him, our eyes connecting through the darkness and I lightly ran my finger down his jawline.
"I feel very special that you've wanted to open up to me," I told him. "I'm glad that you trust me, like I trust you."
"It's hard," he said. "Opening up and trusting someone. I was raised in an environment where trust doesn't come easily. You stay guarded and you don't let anyone in because that can get you killed. Or worse, it could get your family killed. We lost people every day. After a while, you kind of got used to hearing their names show up on the 5 o'clock news reports. You never knew what day would be your last."
"I'm sorry that you had to go through that." I told him, my lips turned down in a frown.
"It made me who I am," he said shrugging and then grabbed my hand. "But I don't want to be all closed up anymore. I don't want to feel alone anymore."
Our fingers intertwine and I gently squeeze his hand.
"You're not alone, Tre. You have me." I smile and he does too.
He kisses the top of my hand and then mumbles against my skin. "Evangeline, I trust you more than I trust myself."
That night I felt like we went to a deeper level of understanding and trust. He told me more about the place he grew up in. The inner city of Detroit, the projects, where violence, gangs, shootings, and death were a part of their every day life. Him and Trell both were hardened by the violence and crime they witnessed first hand in their neighborhood. They were products of the societal system who had abandoned them and their community. There was no way out unless it was through violence or a body bag. When him and Trell finished high school, they wanted to get out of that part and try to make a better life for them by going to college. That's why they're here. They don't want to end up like their relatives and friends who never got the chance or choice to escape. They had a chance to get out so they took it and ended up at this school.
I'm proud of Tre for making the choice he did. He saved himself by deciding to create a different life for him. If he had never made that choice, we never would have met, and I can't even imagine what my life would be like without him in it.
Tre has so much buried inside of him that he's finally starting to released it. He has different ways of coping and expressing his thoughts and emotions. Talking with me is one that he learned how to feel comfortable with, but his other way is through his writing, which he took up when he was in high school and was told by one of his teachers to express himself on paper where there is no judgement.
When he first allowed me to read some of his writings that were taped up on his bedroom wall, I felt very privileged. I also felt like I was invading his private mind, his deep and raw thoughts, I didn't know if I wanted to impose on his inner sanctuary. But once I started to read the first line of one of his pieces, it was like I was transported inside his mind. I was hooked. I couldn't stop reading. His words cut me deep, but they were so raw and true it almost brought tears to my eyes. The way he writes, is kind of like when he speaks. It's carefully thought out with brevity, but full of awareness. It's beauty in a completely different form, but it's incredibly touching and unlike anything I've ever seen before. When I was reading, I could feel how much he was bleeding all over these papers. He bared his soul and placed his heart in the crafted, delicate words. Bleeding out with all of his emotions, I finally understood him. And once I came to that understanding, my heart broke for him.
I knew that Tre was extremely closed off. He guarded his heart and had it locked away in an iron vault. But I didn't realize how broken Tre was. It wasn't just that he was a tough guy and put on this protective facade that he is strong and hard to reach. Deep down, he's a broken man who had to grow up too fast and never got to experience the happy childhood that he deserved to have. Inside his heart, he's still that young boy who found his mom brain dead on the bedroom floor. He's still tortured every day by it. But he'd never let you know from the outside, just how much pain it caused him.
I didn't know this until I read his piece titled "The Fall of a Man."
Is it not death where we finally understand the cruelty of which life dealt its cards? To spend eternity in solitude and agony. The eagle savages your liver every day so you will face a vengeance of death like Prometheus.
Does God punish the ones who try to do good?
We are tortured souls with nowhere to go. Cowering in the surrounding darkness tearing our skin apart with the nails that pierce through our veins. Reliving our death every day in a purgatory full of despair. Reliving the same day every day.
I live inside a continuous nightmare that plays like a movie inside my head. It constantly reminds me of my own suffering and loss. Finding my mother laying lifeless and cold on the floor, drowned in her own blood, I can't scrape the image off my memory. I am imprinted with the lost look in her eyes that cried out for mercy.
Does pain ever truly go away? Or do we push it deep down inside where we try to forget about how broken and lifeless we are?
We are used to living the same nightmare every day, being tortured of the same monster that always hangs over our shoulder. I burn for something else besides pain.
Living like Prometheus, embodying the suffering and pure agony from our own mistakes. A vengeance from God, a hatred toward man. Life becomes cold, a bleak reminder of what will always be housed inside my soul.
Woe is me. The torment never ends.
My heart broke with each word I read. I could feel his pain. I now understood why he doesn't like to express his emotions. He can't tell me that he loves me because he is still scarred from his mother's death. She was the only one that he had ever loved and he doesn't know how to love someone else since he never got to experience that love again. His mom's death took everything away from him, including the will to love. I know that he's probably afraid to tell me he loves me because he doesn't fully understand how he's feeling towards me. He's afraid but also confused. He doesn't know what true love really is and how it feels to have that emotion for someone. All he knows is pain, sadness, and heartache. I hope by saying and showing that I love him, he will be able to understand what he's feeling inside so he can finally be free of his fears and feel free to love me.
*~*
"Let's go get something to eat," Sam says as we make our way out of the studio. "I'll text Reina and see if she can meet us there."
She flicks off the lights and locks the door and we head outside the art building. We were in the studio for a total of 4 hours, but Sam was able to finish the sketch and take a picture of my pose so she can start painting this coming week.
"I'm nervous but excited about this showcase," Sam says as we walk down the sidewalk, the sun starting to set behind the cityscape.
"You have nothing to be nervous about," I tell her. "Your artwork is amazing. Everyone will be able to see that."
"You'll come to the showcase right?"
"Of course," I smile and laugh. "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't come support you? Reina and I are both going. I'll even make Tre come too."
"Trell says he has a surprise for me after the showcase."
"Oh, do you know what it is?"
She shrugs. "No he won't give me any hints."
"I don't really like surprises," I say, us looking both ways before crossing the street.
"I don't either and it's killing me that he won't tell me!" She groans. "I don't like the anticipation."
"One more thing that you'll be thinking about now besides the showcase."
She lightly hits me on the arm. "Don't remind me! Now I'll be even more anxious."
I chuckle. "You'll be fine Sam."
"Hey!"
We see Reina up ahead of us and she waves at us.
"Hey girl."
"What's up?"
Sam and I say, meeting her at the front of the small Thai restaurant that we always like to go to on the weekends.
"I was just at the library. I had to find this book that we didn't have at the campus library," she replies.
"Eva was being my model for the past few hours," Sam says, gesturing to me. "She's a lot better than you were."
I giggle and Reina gasps. "Hey! It wasn't my fault that you were playing Janet and I couldn't help but dance and sing along to the music."
Sam rolls her eyes and we all laugh as we go inside the restaurant.
After a dinner that was filled with laughing and girl talk, Sam and I go and outsider to wait while Reina goes to the restroom. The sky was now dark and the fall air was cool and windy. I clutch my coat tighter to me, watching people walk down the street as the nightlife begins.
"Shit! I left my to-go box at our table." Sam exclaims, pitting a hand on her forehead. "Wait here. I'll be right back."
She quickly goes back inside and I stay where I was, shuffling my feet and I zip up my coat. My phone vibrates in my coat pocket so I take it out and look at the notification, smiling when I see Tre's reply to our conversation we were having.
Be ready. I got plans for you tonight sexy.
I can't waiâ
I feel a force in front of me and it pushes me. I gasp and look up to the hooded figure that's putting his rough hands on me. He grabs the strap of the purse on my shoulder and tugs.
"Give me your purse lady." His voice is deep and I can barely see his face that's obscured by his hood.
I keep ahold of my purse strap and tug it back from his grip. "I don't have anything of value to you!"
It all happened so fast. I was tugging on my purse against him, but he was stronger and was pulling me with each tug.
"Let go!" I yell at him and he forcibly tugs me harder. I hear someone behind me yell "Hey!"
The man looks behind me and then throws a hard punch to my face. I gasp at the feeling of his knuckles on my nose and cheek. Pain resonates all over my face and I feel my grip loosen on my purse, the man snatching it out of my hands and running away down the alley by the restaurant. My vision is blurry and I stumble down to the ground, a metallic taste forming in my mouth. Everything goes in slow motion.
"Eva!"
I hear a high pitched scream but can't make out who it was. I feel like I'm in a tunnel with no way out.
When I fall to the ground, my head makes contact with the cold pavement. I feel sick and all I can focus on is the pain throughout my whole body. Shadows surround me and I feel hands touching me, but I can't make out anything that's happening right now.
"Eva! Eva!" I hear in a muffled yell. "Someone call 911!"
I hear my name keep being called but I can't move my mouth. I can't move anything. I see flashing lights and shadows moving in front of me, but its so hard to keep my eyes open.
"Eva keep your eyes open."
I can't. My eyes slowly close and I surrender to the darkness.