- Brandon's POV -
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I sipped my drink as I drove. “I don’t know why I’m so tired,” I told my steering wheel. “I went to bed at a good time last night. I usually fall asleep really quickly. I should have gotten about 8 hours. But I kept waking up.” I frowned. “Strange.”
Thankfully, the caffeine filled my veins rather quickly, and I lost some of the exhaustion.
I sat in my car when I arrived at work. “Now,” I said to my coffee, “what’s the battle plan for avoiding Layla?”
I decided I would pretend to be flipping through my folders as I walked in. Maybe I could fake an intense interest in their contents.
My head bent over my folders, I glared at the papers inside with what I hoped was a very concentrated look. I was so focused on trying to be focused, I didn’t see if Layla was even at the reception desk. I was delighted when my plan seemed to succeed. When I made it through the lobby without a call, I sneaked a peek back to see if Layla was sitting at the desk.
Sure enough, she was, but she was also focused on something. Whatever it was, it must have been important, because she didn’t even seem to notice everyone coming in for the morning shift.
I was slightly disappointed I had managed to avoid a “good morning” because she was busy and not because of my brilliant plan, but I let it pass. Today was going to be a good day.
Flopping down into my swivel chair, I rubbed my hands together eagerly. The background and main shapes of the book cover were done—now it was time to work on the details.
I checked the folder containing my assignment that my boss had given me a few days ago. I skimmed the details again to refresh my memory.
“The scene is a dark forest. Include many browns, grey-browns, dark greens, and blacks if needed. A girl, front facing the viewer, has her back to a large tree. Her hands are resting on either side of her, pressed up against the bark of the tree, as if she was hiding. She is looking to the right. Her mouth is slightly open, and her expression is neutral with a hint of apprehension. Her face is round and seems young. Her features are youthful as well. Her hair is a little below shoulder length, auburn, and wavy at the bottom. She is wearing a white nightgown with lace at the hem, neck, and cuffs of its long and loose sleeves. Her feet are bare and she is slightly poised on her toes.”
I sat at my desk and rested my head on my hands. “Hmm,” I wondered out loud. “I have the forest and the basic outline of the girl done. She’s going to glow, just a little, on that dark background.” I looked pointedly at my drawing stylus. “Her facial features are minorly mentioned, but most of it is up to me.”
A thought struck me. What if I modeled her after…?
That’s a bad idea, part of me pointed out. You know it’s just going to bring back painful memories.
But it’s kind of describing her though. I’ll just check one of my pictures and see if she would work as a model.
Bad plan…
The second voice was drowned out as I logged into my email account and searched through some old emails. I know there’s a bunch of pictures of her in here somewhere…
I went back to years ago when it had first happened. 7 years ago. 7 years, and she was still here…
My sister’s smiling face brought tears to my eyes. Her eyes were dark brown, just like mine, and her hair was auburn and wavy at the tips. It shone with a healthy glow it had lost soon after the picture was taken. Her hair used to be so long…
…and then the chemo took it.
I clicked through the slideshow, examining every curve of her young face, even though I knew it by heart. She was only nine years old when she contracted leukemia. She was so young. Too young to leave this world.
My mind raced through the memories as I gazed at picture after picture, barely aware of a silent tear rolling down my face. You need to stop, a voice said faintly in my head. You’re getting out of control, crying at work.
“I know,” I whispered to myself. “I miss her, though.”
I wiped away my tears with the collar of my shirt and sniffed doggedly. “I’m gonna model the girl after her,” I said, my resolve strengthening. “She’s perfect for it.” And I’ve been pushing her out of my mind for far too long. I can’t live like she never lived.
Once again, part of me made protesting noises, but I locked the voice inside a box.
Pulling up a picture of her sitting on a log before the sunset, I used it for reference as I detailed the features of the girl on the book cover. Every once and a while, a tear would find its way down my cheek. I’d scrub it off and keep working.
“Hey man, nice work!” My co-worker, Matt, leaned over to look at my progress. “It’s coming along nicely. Who’s the model?”
“Her?” I kept my eyes on my work, hoping my nose didn’t look too red. “Uh, well. She’s my sister.”
“Huh. I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I said, too quietly for Matt to hear.
“Well, she’s perfect for the girl. Looks like you’re gonna turn out another good piece.” He turned back to his own desk.
“Thanks,” I said.
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“Hey Brandon,” Aiden called from across the courtyard. “My man!”
“Hey Aiden,” I answered through a mouthful of my lunch—a sandwich again. I could probably fix something more impressive, but I never did. Don’t want them to know I like to cook.
“How’s my lightning stru—” Aiden paused, then lowered his voice as he came nearer to my seat on the rock wall. "I mean, how are you?”
“Feeling fine,” I laughed, ignoring the fact that I had been crying—Crying! I’m turning into a girl!—earlier.
“Awesome. Still no superpowers?”
“Nope. Except maybe I don’t bleed anymore.” I told Aiden about the papercut incident. He listened with eyes wide, his signature football motionless in his hands.
“Dude,” he said, drawing out the word. “That’s crazy.”
“Nah.” I shrugged and took another bite of my sandwich. “There’s probably some explanation for it. I’d have to be cut some other time and see if I bled."
“Weird. You’ll have to make sure and keep an eye on any injuries you have, bro.” Aiden grinned and tossed the football into the air. “If they start healing really fast, you’re definitely destined to save the world.”
“I’ll make sure and tell you if that happens,” I promised, grinning at my best friend.
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(ain't it fun, living in the real world)
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