Single Wide Female: The Bucket List Mega Bundle - 24 Books (Books #1-24) (13 page)

I posted my blog and sat back in my chair. I was about to close my computer, when a ping announced that I had a new comment. It was from Blue. I was surprised that I had a response so quickly.

Amazing words as always. SWF, I hope that you get to be as messy as you please. Everyone deserves a life of a passion.

I stared at the words for a moment. Blue was the only person that had been commenting on my blog so far. It was quite mysterious to me that a complete stranger could be so interested in my life. But it was also inspiring.

Yes, I needed more passion in my life. But I needed a real outlet for it. I needed new perspective and creativity. I needed to not just experience my life, but visualize and create it.

Hopefully the next item on my bucket list would help me with that.

Single Wide Female: The Bucket List

#4 Create a Masterpiece

By

Lillianna Blake

Copyright © 2015 Lillianna Blake

Cover design by
Beetiful Book Covers

All rights reserved.

LilliannaBlake.com

Chapter 1

I believe creativity is a very big part of living passionately. Being able to express yourself on paper, on canvas, or even through needle and thread puts a little of yourself out into the universe. It lets you leave a mark in a world that might otherwise never notice you. So I was determined to participate in a little creativity. Lately, because of my blog, I had discovered a love of writing. But I had always wanted to be an artist. As a child I attempted drawing quite a few times, but the results were stick figures, and flowers that looked like balloons. I put my childish dreams away along with my crayons and markers.

Lately something had sparked me to try again. As I was struggling to sketch an image of a bird, I wondered how it could come so easily for some, and why it was so difficult for others. Then I thought about the new experiences that I’d had in the past few weeks. Pole dancing class, cooking class
—
all of those things had led me to a new perspective on life.

Maybe taking an art class would help me explore my desire to create on canvas. It was on my bucket list to create a masterpiece. I wasn’t sure that a class could help me with that, but I was willing to find out. I looked up local classes and found a painting class that met on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. I decided that this would be a good option for me. I called to sign up and managed to land the last spot.

“Must be a fun class,” I muttered to myself as I hung up the phone. I smiled as I realized that I would be marking off yet another item on my list. I couldn’t wait for the class to start. Especially since the bird I had been sketching all morning looked more like a marshmallow with growths.

I checked my watch and discovered it was time to head into Fluff and Stuff. As the manager, I took my role there very seriously. I was almost never late. Since it was a few blocks down from my apartment, I didn’t have far to go. I grabbed my sketchbook so that I could keep practicing if it was a slow day. I was already worried about whether I would be the worst student in the class.

As I walked up to the shop, I noticed that my friend Max was waiting for me outside the door.

“Morning, beautiful,” he said as he smiled at me. I smiled back, but tried to ignore the compliment.

“Morning,” I replied and unlocked the door of the shop. “Don’t you have to work today?” I asked as I stepped inside. He followed me in. I flipped on the field of fluorescent lights that populated the ceiling above the assortment of washing machines and dryers.

“I did,” he said. “I decided to take the morning off.”

“Getting tired of fixing computers?” I asked, teasing him. “Ready to come back to the delightful scent of fabric softener?” I snatched up a gauzy dryer sheet and waved it under his nose.

“Ugh.” He turned his head and sneezed. “No, absolutely not.” He laughed and shook his head. “Also, I don’t fix computers all day—you know that,” he stated with some annoyance.

“Okay, okay.” I shrugged. “Whatever it is that you do can’t be more entertaining than this place.”

Max leaned back against one of the dryers and watched as I went through and checked each of the washers for any wayward clothing. I had a tendency to be a little obsessive about the safety and cleanliness of the place.

“No, not more entertaining,” he agreed. “Isn’t it Old Joe’s day?” He smiled.

I froze in front of the washers, and a feeling of dread filled me. Old Joe was not exactly the entertaining part of Fluff and Stuff. He had been using the combination laundromat and shop since I’d begun working at the place in college. He always had an entire load of stinky grungy socks. There were more socks than any man should ever own, and I could never figure out how he could possibly get them so dirty. He also made sure that every single item of clothing was folded as compact as possible. It wasn’t about being wrinkle-free for Old Joe, it was about conserving space. He usually paid for the full laundry service, which meant that it was up to me to whiten his socks, and to minimize his laundry into tiny little balls of material. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he had gotten quite a reputation for his laundry quirks.

“Yes, yes, I guess it is,” I said, attempting to hide how much I was dreading his arrival.

“Well, I guess that’s one good thing about not working here anymore,” Max said and laughed.

I looked up at him. He was so handsome when he laughed. His smile was fine, but when he laughed, his eyes crinkled, his cheeks pinked up, and his dimples were exposed. It was my favorite way to see him. I tried not to be distracted by the flutter of my heart.

“Well, I’m sure you have something better to do than hang out here if you have the morning off,” I said. I didn’t realize the bite to my voice until after I’d spoken. I noticed that Max noticed too. He blinked once as if he had been struck by the words.

“I was hoping to take you to lunch,” he said quietly, the amusement gone from his voice.

Chapter 2

Things had been awkward between Max and me lately. I was trying to cure myself of a decade-old crush on the man who was my best friend.

“I’m sorry, I’m covering the entire day shift,” I said and tried not to notice the hurt in his eyes.

“Then I could bring something in,” he said.

“I don’t think so. I’m trying to eat healthier,” I reminded him. “I don’t want to gain everything back.”

“Alright, alright.” He nodded a little. I could tell that he was annoyed. “It just seems like I haven’t seen much of you lately.” He sighed.

“I have been a little busier than usual.”

The truth was that I had been doing my very best to avoid Max. I loved him. I loved him in an eternal essential way. But I couldn’t be
in
love with him, when he didn’t love me that way.

“In fact I have a class tonight,” I added with a slight smile. “I think all those comments you’ve made about me being in the same job since college have made me realize that I need to expand my horizons a little.”

“I never meant to hurt your feelings,” he said.

“You didn’t. Not at all. In fact, you reminded me that there is a world outside of Fluff and Stuff. All these years I’ve been waiting to live, because I didn’t think I had a right to be happy with all that extra fluff.” I laughed a little at my joke. “Now I see how silly that was. I’m ready to enjoy the things that I’ve been avoiding.”

“Well, I think that’s a good thing,” he said with a slight nod. “I just hope that you don’t forget—you’re beautiful, no matter what shape or size.”

“I know, I know,” I said, smiling at him.

Max had never once let me put myself down because of being overweight. Despite the fact that he dated women that could be models, he never teased me about my extra pounds. In fact he had always done the opposite, and had taken every opportunity to compliment me. How could I not fall in love with a man like that?

“I guess it’s finally sinking in,” I added.

“I’m glad that you’re having so much fun,” Max said. “Just don’t forget about your partner in crime.”

“I won’t,” I said him and briefly met his eyes.

I felt that flutter again. I would never want to forget about Max entirely; we were so close that he felt like an extension of me, but I needed desperately to forget that pesky little flutter. At thirty-two I needed to be done waiting for him to feel it too.

“Why don’t we get together tomorrow night?” I said. “We could go to that little casino that just opened. It has penny slots!”

“That sounds like fun.” Max nodded. “But I have a date tomorrow night. She wants to go ballroom dancing.” He rolled his eyes. “Whatever happened to just dinner and a movie?”

“You’re a great dancer,” I reminded him. “You should go and show off.”

“I guess, but it seems like a lot of pressure for a first date.”

“First date? What happened to Patti?” I asked with surprise.

“She was great.” Max frowned. “But she wanted a commitment and we’d only been dating a few weeks. That’s way too fast for me.”

“You know, Max, you are getting older.”

Max ran his hand back over his hair looking self-conscious, as if he was checking for a receding hairline.

“And?” he asked.

“And the women you date are going to be more interested in moving things along,” I said. “What’s so bad about a little commitment?”

“So I’m just supposed to commit, even if I don’t think the woman I’m with is a woman I want to commit to?” he asked, sounding annoyed.

“I don’t think you’ve found any woman that you’ve wanted to commit to,” I said. “Maybe if you gave it a try you’d discover that it’s easier than you think.”

“No way.” Max shook his head. “I’m saving myself.”

“Ha!” I almost choked on my own laughter.

“Not like that,” he said and scowled. “I mean, I’m not going to settle. I’m not going to get trapped into marriage and kids unless the woman I’m with blows my socks off.”

“Trapped, eh?” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “That attitude might be part of the problem.”

“No, the problem is that there is no problem.” Max smiled confidently. “It’s normal to date around.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged and stepped into the shop area to make sure that all of the items were arranged properly. The small shop connected to the laundromat had an assortment of items for sale—from candy to canned soup to souvenirs, and one-of-a-kind yard sale finds. Max followed after me.

“You’re one to talk,” he said. “That chef was the first man I’ve seen you with—”

“Stop right there,” I warned him with a sharp glare. “My love life is my business.”

“Oh, I see.” He chuckled. “So mine is fair game, but yours is a government secret.”

“Seems that way,” I said. “You’ll have to tell me how the ballroom dancing goes.”

“And you?” he asked. “What class are you taking tonight?”

“A painting class.”

“Oh,” he said. I could tell that he was trying not to laugh.

“What?” I said, not trying to contain my annoyance.

“Uh, well,” he cleared his throat. “It’s just I’ve seen some of your drawings and—”

“Max!” I shouted at him and picked up a loofah to throw at his head. “That’s why I’m taking a class.”

“Alright.” He laughed. “If that’s what you really want to do.”

“It is,” I said, feeling confident again. “You’ll see, when I’m done, I’ll have a masterpiece.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “Honestly, Sammy, I wouldn’t doubt that for a second. You have always been able to do anything you put your mind to.”

I smiled at him. “Thanks, Max, that means a lot.”

“Just don’t forget about me when you become a famous artist. I’ll leave you to your laundry,” he said and gave me a quick hug.

A few customers had already walked in to use the washers and dryers. I could see that it wasn’t likely to be a slow day.

“Thanks. And Max, give the slow dancing a chance,” I said as I met his eyes. “Sometimes to get your socks blown off you have to be willing to slow down a little.”

“Ha, ha.” He nodded and walked out of the laundromat.

I watched him go for longer than I should have. That familiar longing rose within me. I squashed it down as I went about my work.

As I got into the swing of the day, I found myself thinking about the people that came in and out of the laundromat. I pictured them as portraits, as moments of pure art in the middle of the mundane. I had a tendency to notice the minute beauty in things—the soft curve of someone’s lips, the way the ridge of an ear angled in a unique way, even the weathered surface of the skin of Old Joe’s fingers. To me each of these things held a beauty that only that particular person possessed. I wondered if that was something that I could ever capture on canvas. I hoped that it might be.

By the time I was closing up shop for the night, I was excited for my first painting class. Maybe I just needed a little guidance, and I would finally be able to create the beauty I witnessed each day.

Chapter 3

When I walked into the classroom the first thing I noticed was how large it was. There were at least fifteen easels set up, with students at all but one, which I assumed was mine. There was a large area at the front of the room where a woman, whom I assumed was the teacher, was pacing slowly back and forth. She had her eyes closed, and her fingers steepled, as if she was saying a prayer. She was dressed in a long flowing white dress. Her long blonde hair had flowers intertwined. I hadn’t seen a grown woman with flowers in her hair since—well, I couldn’t think of when, actually.

I paused in the doorway, wondering if I should go through with it. I could see some of the artwork hung on the walls, and none of it looked like a marshmallow with growths. I felt a nervous knot in the pit of my stomach. I knew it was my familiar feeling of not being good enough. That feeling had stopped me doing so many things in life, from believing I could lose weight to believing that I could pursue any dream I had. I wasn’t going to let it stop me doing this too.

I walked slowly into the classroom despite my fear.

“Hello.” A woman at the easel beside me smiled. She looked friendly enough, with frizzy black hair that hung to her waist, and bright blue eyes. She had the kind of tan that came from working outside, not tanning. She was working on a painting—a landscape—and it was so realistic that I could have mistaken it easily for a photograph.