I Drew a Picture

By Auriah Jordan-Smith

I scratched a pencil into the rough art paper I found on the floor. 

I wonder who left it there. 

It was such good quality. 

Anyway, I started drawing figures, one that looked like me, and one that looked like everyone else. Anyone could've walked up to me and said, "Hey, I had no idea you could draw me that well." I'm not sure it was even a person. I had me and something else on a page. It was quite pretty, considering I don't usually draw. 

Then he came up behind me and admired what I was doing. He was so close that I could smell his lip balm of all things. I wasn't too concerned until he stayed there for a while. I realised I could feel his eyes on me and the sweat that had begun to form on my neck. 

I leaned to the side and said hello. 

He said hello back. 

He said the drawing looked like anyone, but it mostly looked like him. He then took the art and put it on his desk. I told him I wasn't finished but he didn't care. He grabbed a red pen and drew on my drawing. I felt so sad. 

Why would he draw over it if he liked it? 

When it fluttered back down in front of me, I realised he drew the two figures holding hands. He asked me in an uncomfortable tone, "Would you want to put that in a gallery? You'd have to put it up with me since I'm now the co-artist but yeah." 

I didn't look at his face. I thought it was a cool idea so I said okay. I could've just made another artwork by myself but there's no way I had that much creativity left in me. 

So we went to the local gallery and asked them to put it up. The lobby was this massively empty marble room that echoed everything. No one was in there except for three people: Me, the guy, and this administration lady. She was short and had a sharp tone, but with a soft voice. I found that really odd. I liked her hair though, she told me she got it done at the salon down the road, I don't think you'd know it, sweetie. A bit out of your price range? My co-artist said he'd pay for anything if it was for me. It's not like I don't have any money, I said, I can pay for anything I want. Including the fee for putting the art up. He said that he already paid when I was talking to the admin lady. Sigh. I was holding a credit card in my hand for all to see, but sure. 

Thanks. 

He asked me in his now-signature uncomfortable tone that echoed up and down the lobby, "Would you want to walk through the gallery? Think of it as a celebration of our co-success." I said okay. I could've just gone on the weekend by myself but there's no way I would have had that much energy left in me. 

So we walked, and I marvelled at the works covering every square inch of this empty place, and I wondered whether these artists found their canvases or their paper on the floor, just as I did. But I could feel his eyes again, I could feel exactly where he was looking and oh God I think he's going to hold my hand. 

"So, would you want to uh...hold my hand?" I couldn't look at his face but I thought it could be nice so I said okay. I knew he was nervous but his hands were so clammy that I really really wanted to cut my arm off. Not violently, but just sort of……and it's gone. 

Anyway, so we walked around this eery, sterile, only-elevator-music-playing gallery and for the first time that day I smiled. I noticed we were at the abstract section, and there was a piece I did years ago. I completely forgot that they put it up. It sort of reminded me of this new art that’s going to be put up. Two people, just on a page, but I didn't find the page on the floor. And there's no red pen on it. 

Just smiling people and a nice day. I liked that day. 

He seemed to notice my only change in expression so far and tried to act like he hadn't already burned two holes into my face. He said he'd never seen me smile before. It's not like it's a rare occasion, I just didn't feel like it at the time. I guess also around him. Oh well. He told me I looked as beautiful as our artwork when I smiled, and slowly but surely, he was leaning closer. 

What's up with this guy? I don't even know his name. I didn't really have the confidence to make a scene in front of this empty room of emptiness, so I got it over with. Short and sharp like the lady in the front room. She had sharp shoes too. Did I say that? Well, her shoes were sharp and her nails made the same click-clack noise as her shoes. So technically, her voice, nails, and shoes were the same. Interesting. I didn't hear what he said because I was thinking this, so I started walking again. This time I let his hand go and I disappeared around a corner. 

Later on, I realised he said he loved me. I don't know what was wrong with that guy but it makes me laugh from time to time. Some people said they liked the art and were sad that there wasn't more. They said it would be good if we were in the same art class again. Just personally, I think that makes it less fun. I still don't know his name and I don't really want to know it, but it makes me laugh from time to time.

By Auriah Jordan-Smith