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“Mrs. Salters will see you now.” the sturdy looking receptionist said as she peered over her glasses at Chloe and pointed to a wooden door on the right.
Each step that Chloe took towards that door felt like an eternity. The door was only two feet away, but each step pushed her back another foot. She had built her dreams up behind that door. She prayed that her hard work would be recognized. That the lady would say - “You are everything we have been looking for.” But she felt a tightness in her chest that made it difficult to breathe, and her throat was so dry she couldn’t swallow.
Chloe opened the door to see a middle-aged lady with brown hair pulled back into a tight, low bun. Mrs. Salters smiled warmly, and suggested that Chloe take a seat across from the large wooden desk in front of her.
“Let’s start with why you want to study at our school, shall we?” she asked, although Chloe couldn't help but feel as though she was seeking compliments to the school. Chloe had no problem giving them - she had done her research and she knew it was the best school for the direction she wished to pursue.
“I want to learn about the different styles in art and how I can incorporate them into my artwork. And most importantly I want to challenge my thinking.” Chloe said shyly as she opened her portfolio and placed it on the desk in front of Mrs. Salters, cringing as she did so. This blocked the energy that traveled through her body, making her shake with nerves, but she couldn’t keep her feelings of insecurity from surfacing. She felt as though her artwork reflected that of a tormented child, an emotional disaster splattered across the canvases. She held her breath, silently awaiting Mrs. Salters critique.
“Your style is quite strong Chloe.” Mrs. Salters commented as she turned each page, staring at each image for less than two seconds. “I don’t necessarily think that it is a bad thing, but here, we encourage students to expand their mind, to open up new doors. It’s a matter of streamlining your paintings so you will be able to sell them as pieces of artwork.” She hesitated, her mouth slightly open and tongue to the roof of it, as though deep in thought. “I don’t think you have much flexibility in your vision that would enable you to explore different pathways. I think you should just keep doing what you are doing, but perhaps attend a business school or something more along the lines of how to execute your paintings.”
Chloe’s mind rolled with confusion. What was this woman saying? Was this a rejection? Was she actually saying no, you are not invited to attend my school? Wasn’t Chloe the one who would be paying them? Chloe nodded silently, but she wasn’t listening anymore to what Mrs. Salters was saying. Her mouth was opening and closing and words were coming out, but they seemed irrelevant - her facial expressions said it all. Her eyes squinted with a sympathetic look, and her mouth curved upwards, a smile that was saying to her, “Sorry, but life goes on”.
The next few minutes rolled past in a split second, and before she knew it, she was standing outside the university, holding her pride and joy in her hands and for the first time feeling disgusted with her work. All she wanted to do was throw it in the trashcan. She could feel the tears in her eyes that were flowing with sadness. A sense of hopelessness had completely struck her down. She felt useless and for the first time in her entire life she felt like she didn’t want to be alive anymore. Her dreams of what she wanted to do were laughed at, her passion, torn apart and shredded by the world’s best art school’s professional opinion. Her world was crashing around her, one never ending madness swirling upwards into a tornado. And when it stopped spinning, a hurricane had flooded through, diminishing everything that she touched, wiping the slate clean and forcing her to start all over again.
She walked to the bus stop to go home, dragging her feet behind and trying to wipe the tears away. Oh why did I forget to take my sunglasses today? She got angry at herself. The one day I have to hide my face and I forget my sunglasses. She cursed herself again.
Chloe arrived to the bus stop milliseconds after the bus left. Just my luck. she sighed, stomping her feet with anger and kicking the side of the bench at the bus stop. Her tears had finally stopped now, and she felt angry. Angry at life for making her feel this way. Angry at the world for being so cruel. She felt confined within a vortex of emotions, swirling helplessly around and around, with nothing to grab onto. Nothing to provide her the hope to move forward, to guide her in the right direction to follow. She felt that there was only one way to go - down - and that she was moving there fast.
When will things get easy? She looked to take a seat, and saw that it was graffitied with two words - ‘I promise’ - what do you promise? she wondered angrily. A promise to myself? A promise to God?
A small boy interrupted Chloe as she was contemplating her confusion. He looked no more than 10, and carried a soccer ball in his left arm.
“Hey!” he said, curiously looking at Chloe. His cap tipped lightly to the left, and he had a small scratch on his cheek.
“Hi,” Chloe replied, raising her eyebrows as a form of recognition. She felt irritated of having been interrupted, but at the same time, she knew she had no right to let the boy be aware of the demons that were playing games in her mind. He was an innocent child, just seeking conversation.
“What have you got there?” he asked, pointing to the cylinder containing her drawings.
Just a pile of worthless paintings. she thought in her head as she held the container in her hands. They felt like they were burning in her fingers, aching to be let go of, but she couldn’t let them go. Something told her to hold onto them.
“Some pictures I painted,” she replied timidly.
“Can I see?” he asked, “I really like pictures.”
Chloe looked to the young child. His innocent demeanor was so pure and enchanting that it spoke to her through his eyes, which twinkled with excitement. Light blue eyes with slivers of grey. He smiled a goofy grin, with teeth too big for his mouth. He was still growing into them. It was evident that all he cared about was sitting right there next to her, and being able to look at her pictures. It was what was going to make him happy, and who was she to stop this little child from being happy, just because she was unhappy?
“Of course, they aren’t very good though...” Chloe replied as she opened the case and pulled out what she once considered her masterpieces.
“Don’t say that.” the boy shook his head as he replied. “My mama says that everything in this world is beautiful in its own way. Just because something isn’t good, doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful.”
Chloe smiled empathically. Why was it so hard to see things clearly sometimes, she wondered. Here, this small boy was able to summarize life in a matter of a sentence, and it was so simple, yet she seemed to forget it all the time, constantly tripping over herself when in fact she was strong enough to walk proudly, with her head held high.
“Oh wow! I like this one!” he said, as she revealed the first drawing. It was her favorite picture too. It was a sketch of a small lake that ran through the countryside, with horses and cows standing in a meadow. It was her grandmothers’ farm that her family would go to on the holidays. She would spend hours lying by that lake, staring up at the sky and making animals from the clouds with her sister. Sometimes she would talk to the horses and cows and pick flowers. She liked the way she captured that moment, that feeling in the drawing - a vision of peace and serenity. But after her meeting with Mrs. Salters she wondered if she was the only one who felt that way from looking at it. Maybe she held an emotional attachment to the place as opposed to executing the idea from the colors.
“It looks like a place I’d like to go to.” the young boy said smiling as he moved onto the next painting.
The next picture was intense. It was a painting of the first time a boy broke Chloe’s heart. She had experimented with charcoal on paper. She had felt as though the charcoal represented the fire that had once burned inside her heart, a flame holding tight for the 15-year-old boy in her class. And the moment he told her he liked her friend, she extinguished it herself, pouring boiling water on the flames until they suffocated beneath, and all that was left was this burnt out charcoal, that she used to pull out whatever emotion she held left for this foolish lost love.
“I like the smokey layers up top over here.” he said, as he pointed to the top right corner. “And here.” he continued, enthusiastically. “I like the way this line moves as though it has a mind of its own.”
Chloe giggled. “Thanks.” she said. She had never thought of her lines as being individual and having a life of their own, but what the boy said made perfect sense.
“I could stare at this for hours.” he replied. “There’s so many stories in here.”
“Do you like it?” she asked feeling the emotion of sadness override her mind as she looked at the picture. All the feelings of hurt that she felt from the rejection came flooding back, and piled on top of her recent experience of being rejected by the school.
“Very much. I kind of like dark pictures, is that weird?” he asked Chloe honestly.
“Not at all. I like dark pictures too.” she replied with a wink and smile.
As he turned the paper to look at the third picture, a bus pulled up.
“That’s my bus,” he said, as he quickly stood up and handed the drawings back to Chloe.
“Thank you for showing me your pictures, I really liked them.” He smiled.
“Thank you for asking.” Chloe replied, taking the drawings from his hands as he ran to the door of the bus.
“Wait!” Chloe yelled, standing up and running to the young boy. “I want you to have this.”
She handed him the charcoal drawing that he said he liked. The emotion she felt when holding the picture felt too strong, and she wanted to forget about that chapter in her life and move on. By releasing the picture from her hands it felt like a metaphor: that she was also releasing herself from the pain that she once held onto. It was the pain that she used as a point of reference to define herself. She didn’t need it anymore. It was her way of cleansing herself from the past and making way for the future.
“Wow, thanks lady.” he replied, a smitten smile on his face and a twinkle in his blue-grey eyes. “I guess it’s my lucky day.” He nodded as he walked into the bus.
“Mine too.” Chloe replied, and watched as the bus drive away. The young boy sat to the front and hung out the window, waving her goodbye.
Chloe’s bus arrived next, and she got on, feeling a tiny bit better than before. She got off at the hospital on her way home. Although she really just wanted to go home and feel sorry for herself, it had been two weeks since the accident, and Chloe knew that a small visit to let Ashley know how the interview went would mean a lot to her. And in an awful way, she knew that seeing her sister in the hospital bed unable to move would help put everything into perspective. She was healthy and her sister was lucky to be alive.
When she arrived to her sister’s bed, Dr. Clive was visiting. Chloe tried to hold it together in front of him, but the moment she looked at her sister, tears quickly started to fall down her cheeks. She felt embarrassed, ashamed and stupid for trying to achieve something and then hopelessly failing. The doctor politely excused himself as Chloe stormed in, unable to hide the discouragement she felt.
“Chloe, Chloe calm down.” her sisters soft voice purred as she reached out to touch Chloe’s hand. But it was too late, the tears were already falling and it was impossible to stop them.
“It’s just such a slap in the face!” Chloe said to her sister as her tears now changed to anger as she listened to herself retell the story of what had happened with Mrs. Salters. “Does the universe have a better plan? What else can I do but paint? I can’t live another life. I love painting with my body and soul. I love it so much! I don’t want to give it up when I am so passionate about it.”
“Well, listen to what you are saying! Keep at it! Why stop?” Ashley asked. The bruises on her forehead had now begun to heal, and she scratched them often, saying the healing made them itchy.
“Because I need to make money from it and if no one thinks it is worth money, how do I keep going? How do I survive in a world that relies on money?” Chloe complained in response, and she thought about how she wished that money didn’t exist, and she was free to explore her passion as she wished.
“Okay, so plan A didn’t work, let’s switch to plan B.” Ashley sat up straight as she replied to her sister, delivering the advice in her usual authoritative manner. It was this kind of reaction that drove Chloe a little mad because of course it was easy for her sister to say this. She had a clear vision of her goals and the direction on how to reach them. Sometimes Chloe found it was easier to just complain and cry. Why did her sister always have to be right!
“I don’t have a plan B!” Chloe snapped back, angry and irritated now, although she knew her sister was only trying to help. “I feel strange. Like I’m constantly floating in between two lives: one where I am, and the other where I want to be.”
Chloe was pacing around the hospital bed and from side to side, as though the energy within her couldn’t let her sit still. She felt hopelessly lost.
“Chloe, it’s going to be okay. It’s only one persons’ opinion. It’s only your ego that’s been hurt, but you haven't been physically touched.” she said as she looked to her sister. “Take some deep breaths, come on.”
Ashley took long deep breaths, and Chloe reluctantly followed. By the end of the fifth breath, Chloe had calmed down. She realized that she had been overreacting and her tears began to stop. But the confusion and despair didn’t leave her thoughts.
“I just don’t know what I’m going to do now. I thought this was the right path, but I feel like I’m being pushed off track. Is it a sign?” Chloe asked as she looked out the window, wishing that she would see a real sign.
“Just because you are being redirected it doesn't mean you have to give up all hope of pursuing your dreams. You are always going to have things going against you. But are you really going to give up over this one small thing?”
Chloe nodded.
“Well, Chloe, I don’t know if what I am going to say is going to calm you or make you feel worse, but yes, life does get harder. But you know what? You get stronger! Your mind gets stronger and things that you didn’t think you could handle now, later become something so easy. And the challenges are new and fresh each time. Sometimes you wonder how it is even possible that it could be that way. But you need to stay positive. Look at me and all I’ve been through, but through it I’ve stayed positive!”
Her sister was right, always right. The wise older sibling had done it again, and Chloe envied her sister for the wisdom she possessed. She didn’t know it was possible to be able to hold such higher knowledge. She sat eagerly, soaking up her sister’s advice.
“If you believe life is going to be hard, it will be hard. If you seek beauty in everything, then beauty will be shown. But you need to pursue the quest for the right path. If you take no path, no path is going to be taken for you. Sometimes I used to let fate take too much control of my life, and yes, to an extent, it will override my plans. But at the same time, you need to start somewhere and you need to open a door, and then fate will either close it, or encourage you to open a different door. But if you don’t open that door, no door will be opened and will you stand there in an empty room by yourself with no way in and no way out.”
Chloe had the weirdest image inside her mind of what her sister was saying. She could see herself locked inside a tiny room with dark purple walls. It was windowless and had three doors. She had to chose a door, but as she tried to decide, her mind began to wander. She closed her eyes and chose the door on her right, opened it up, and braced herself for whatever lay on the other side. Everything she wanted was there! She stood looking at a seaside, along a small green grassy beach. On the side of the beach next to her stood an easel with a blank canvas and oil paints.
“I want to be a professional artist.” Chloe said, as she opened her eyes and relayed what she had seen.
Her sister smiled with gratitude and relief that Chloe had finally chosen to listen to herself.
“Great, I’m very glad to hear that,” Ashely said. “Now, do you know what you have to do?”
“No. But I’m going to find out.” Chloe replied, as she kissed her sister goodbye.
But by the time Chloe arrived home, all the good advice from her sister had disappeared into the vortex of her consciousness. All her friends were all enjoying their university, and here she was, still at home, rejected from art school, and still doing nothing. She had tried to rationalize that she was still figuring things out, but it was six weeks since school had finished and she still had no direction. Well, she thought she did, but she was wrong. She wasn’t good enough, she heard a voice inside say again.
It was too easy for her to fall down the hole of self-doubt - a lonely journey for an insecure soul, desperately trying to seek approval from others. But what was it that she wanted? A simple pat on the back to say “Yes, you did a good job”. When it was completely impossible for everyone to like the same thing. “Everywhere you look,” Chloe reasoned, “You see different tastes in everything- in music, clothes, food, cities and countries, the list continues for an eternity, and never does anyone agree on the same thing.” So she asked herself, “Why stop at one bad comment? At one woman at one art school telling her, “No this isn’t the right fit for our university.” She began to analyze her options. 1) she wasn’t meant to pursue her dream of being an artist 2) seek alternative ways to be successful as a painter. 3) play the role of a victim and feel sorry for herself.
She laughed at how miserable she had managed to make herself. It was either laugh or cry and she had cried enough for today, she thought.
But as the days passed the urge to escape from her life seemed to overtake her thoughts. The alluring idea of leaving everything she had ever known and starting all over again, by herself without any attachments, no memories, no emotions. She wondered if it would be easier. Not loving or caring for anyone. Then she realized that by going it alone and not loving or caring for anyone, she would also be not herself, for the people around her completed her life. Why was she so very angry at that woman at the university, someone she had never met before, someone who would probably never come into her life again after those unbearably awkward 15 minutes? She still had to see the positive, that this women awoke something inside of her. She exposed a side of truth to herself that she didn't know existed. She realized that the truth was Mrs. Sanders comments had revealed to Chloe a previously hidden sense of insecurity, and a bruised ego. It was a moment in time when she saw her life in a different light. Even so, Chloe didn’t want to see it. She preferred to hold on to her bruised ego a little bit longer. So, instead, she applied for a job at the local cafe, deciding that her new mission would be to save up some money, and then go traveling to escape her haunting reality.