Hood Ornaments

Tori was able to stay focused enough to complete her pieces, and that pleased her. It also pleased Professor Holmes, who now had a knack for just popping up in the studio and scaring the shit out of her. Either they oiled the main door, or Holmes found another way in, because recently his popping up was very stealth. That added to Tori’s fright. So the final time he scared her, Professor Holmes, looked at her skeptically and proceeded asking Tori questions as he looked over her work.

“Are you okay Ms. Watts?”

“What do you mean Professor?” She asked somewhat taken aback by his question.

Holmes continued to look over her pieces, “I mean don’t get me wrong, your work is exquisite, but it always is. You just don’t seem… here.” He turned around and wildly gestured to the studio with his arms. He continued to look at her canvasses, some for lengthy period of time.

“Not that I am trying to get in your business or meddle in your affairs, but your work is reflecting pain and dismay. You are far too talented, no gifted, to become addicted to substances or God forbid die. I don’t want to lose you, so may I suggest some counseling?”

Tori could barely catch her breath because her chest was on fire. She didn’t know if she felt insulted or relieved, so she responded in the most diplomatic way possible.

“Professor Holmes, I don’t even drink, and I have already made plans to go home for Thanksgiving. I need to be there; there is a lot going on, and I need to be with family for a while.”

“Yes, yes good. Regroup. But you better bring your ass back here after the break, or I will find you and drag you back here.”

Tori chuckled, but the expression on Professor Holmes face did not change. He nodded, turned around sharply and remarked over his shoulder.

“And go make up with Michael. He is so damn melancholy, I want to cry. His work is even sad. I’ll be back tomorrow to prepare your pieces for hanging.”

He exited through the newly oiled door. Even though it didn’t squeak, it still slammed. Tori was stunned and somewhat appalled at Holmes’ suggestion she was self-medicating her issues. She was also nervous, yet excited, about coming home. She didn’t know the details regarding the length of Tony’s stay. She hoped she didn’t run into him.

She was excited because she was going to see Dell again. Recently, it felt as if a part of her soul fragmented. Unfulfilled. She felt guilty for feeling that way because of Michael. Michael was trying so hard to be there for her. He didn’t realize Tori felt suffocated. Michael couldn’t understand that.

She was curious about what Holmes said about his work, and she wondered why he was so sad. If he was sad because of her, she was not going to take it well and would feel no need to console him. Because at this point, Tori did all that she could do. Explained all that she was willing to explain. She wasn’t used to soft dudes. She thought since Michael grew up in Chicago, he would have a little more of an edge to him. Maybe being a product of wealth dulled the edge if he ever had one. She started to question her own judgment. Even when he was angry, Tori saw it as soft. She cleaned up her area haphazardly, but enough so it didn’t appear a mess. Then and glanced at herself in the metal paper towel holder. She blotted her lips, shrugged, and began to walk out of the doors of the studio which led to the outside.

Until she heard the music.

It was Bach’s Sicilienne; she smiled softly and followed the piano notes to the far end of the studio. That’s when she saw him. His braids were out transforming his mane of hair into a dark cloud hovering over him. Tori, as quietly as she could, positioned herself in the small hallway so that she could take a peek at his work.

It took everything in her power not to gasp. Holmes saying his work was sad was an understatement. It was dark. Horrifying even. There was a gorgeous painting of a stained glass window. One could tell it was meticulously done by the way the sunlight and shadows were depicted from the top of the window down to the part of the painting which shocked her.

Midway through the painting the window appeared to have a glass beer bottle shoved through it. It broke the window so piercing shards of glass were stabbing a bloody heart.

Tori’s cellphone vibrated and she winced. Luckily the music was so loud, Michael didn’t hear it. She strategically fumbled for the phone and shut it off before slowly stepping into the studio to announce her presence.

It was at that moment, she realized that she still cared.

Michael darted around his pieces, squatted, stretched, took a step back, added paint, and removed paint, sketched on another canvass. Tori couldn’t help but smile at their similarities. They were both hyper minded. Michael quickly removed one canvass from an easel and replaced with the painting he had done of Tori, but it was upside down. She squinted a moment to reacquaint herself with the touching portrait.

That was when she realized the painting was not, in fact, upside down. The image of Tori once a delicate butterfly was now nailed to a cross.

Upside down.

She remembered why she was so angry and took a step forward.

Then cleared her throat.

Michael turned around sharply and glared at her. He appeared to be exhausted. He had bags under his eyes, yet they were wide with excitement. His smile was also wide, and he jogged out of the studio to take Tori by the hand.

She was still glaring at her former portrait. Michael frowned slightly and then, as if he were hit with realization, nervously spoke

“Victoria, no. See. I was angry at you. Confused. I didn’t want to take it out on you so…I painted.”

He turned back around and attempted to embrace her; but she wasn’t receptive. He then apologized profusely, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do with all of this. This love I have for you. You seem conflicted. You don’t seem to love like I do.”

With tears streaming down her cheeks Tori finally returned his embrace and gazed up at him. His face was also wet with tears.

“Do you want to go get a coffee and talk?” She asked.

He nodded in that playful boyish way that always made her chuckle. She took his hand, and after he flicked off the lights and music with one switch, they walked to the nearest coffee shop. They ordered and found a quiet table in the corner to talk. There was an extended awkward silence that was interrupted by a large yawn from Michael. Tori had never seen his mouth open that wide before. It was pretty amusing to her, but at that moment, she thought it would be best if she kept the laugh to herself. Instead, she asked, “Not sleeping well?”

“Actually, I am just exhausted trying to get my pieces together for the exhibit. I work nonstop, so when I do hit the pillow, I am zonked.”

Tori nodded in understanding, “Well, I guess that’s a good thing.”

“Is it?”

Nothing could cut the tension between them as they sipped their coffees.

“Well at least this coffee will keep you…”

“Look Victoria, if we are going to sit here and make polite chit chat, it’s a waste of time. So let’s get all the shit on the table.”

“You seem angry,” Tori said not dropping her gaze.

“No, I am not angry; I am tired. Confused. And I am tired of being confused.”

“Is that why you symbolically crucified me?”

“Were you offended?”

“No, I guess you could say I am stunned. Hurt even.”

“I am hurt as well,” Michael responded matter of fact.

“Listen, Michael. I am sorry if I am behind your hurt. I never meant to…”

“And I never meant to fall in love with you.”

“So quickly?” She asked surprised.

“At all!! This is all brand new to me. I don’t know what is quick or not. All I know is how I feel. What I don’t know is…”

She finished his sentence, “How I feel.”

He nodded.

She sighed, “I just need some time to wrap my head around this. Let’s get through the opening and then let me go home on break. It will make more sense when I get back.”

“Until you get back, can we just keep it like it is?” It sounded as if Michael was pleading.

Tori smiled, ‘the awkwardness?”

This made Michael chuckle, “No the love. Can we keep it until then?”

She nodded again. Michael got up and kissed her on the top of her head, but as he was about to leave, he asked, “And could you re-braid my hair?

“Sure. I am free tonight.”

“Good.”

With that they both sighed in relief as he walked out of the coffee shop.