Hood Ornaments

With every bump in the road, he winced. In his mind he was cussin out the Burger King he devoured before he got on the bus to head home. Number one, he knew better. Fast food was a convenience not a direct order. He had no idea why he ate it so quickly. The only rational explanation for inhaling it the way he did was that after weeks of bland chow, that burger was like a steak to him. Unfortunately, he forgot what a number it would do on his stomach. The first six hours, he ignored the rumbling sound and did his best to process what was happening.

He was getting ready to head to dinner when his superior came up behind him and barked his name. The next thing Tony knew he was being ordered into his sergeant’s office, told to sit down and told his grandmother died. Then, he was packing a bag and being ushered to the bus station. Tony didn’t want to eat initially because he was in shock.

His Gram?

Gone?

Was she sick?

In pain?

And for how long?

Luckily the bus was pretty empty so he was able to get a seat in the back. He wedged his head close enough to the window so the other passengers would think he was asleep.

Instead of shedding the tears he needed to shed.

As his stomach let out a loud, liquid gurgle, Tony became embarrassed and wished he would have used the rest room. Now he was going to suffer for the rest of the trip. He was in pain in almost every way one could be in pain. He actually was thankful for the distraction of the physical pain, because it took his mind off of what his heart was going through. He never felt so alone. Quite ironic because he was going home. Home was supposed to be a place of warmth, love and security. But in his mind he kept replaying the last few events that transpired before he left, and how he could have handled them all differently.

***

Tori went into the studio and started setting up. She was definitely conflicted about what had transpired between her and Michael. What stayed constant was her desire to go home. She put on her headphones and got to work. Tori decided that once the opening was over and she was all caught up with her school work, in her free time she would create a memory series of her work. It would be a combination of both good and bad memories, real life and abstracts, paintings, sketches, and mix media. This excited her, but she knew to pace herself. Sometimes excitement led to sloppy work. So she focused on taking her time. She wished Michael understood that as well. Maybe he was too passionate to grasp patience. Or maybe he didn’t want her to be a passing fling? Tori didn’t know, and at the moment she couldn’t be bothered to care. She had to focus. As she walked away from the sketch, Tori realized she always seemed have to focus. When she would sit in her room on the window seat, she would sketch and color for what seemed like hours. Many times she didn’t even stop to eat ignoring Trudy calling her at the bottom of the stairs. Then Trudy would just appear with a plate of food and peer over her shoulder to see what Tori was working on.

“Girl when you are up here drawin you shut out the world don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” Tori said. “Sometimes I let it all in.”

When she let the world in, she created beauty, but it also flooded her mind with all kinds of thoughts.