My Favourite Muse

CHAPTER TWELVE

  I woke up late in the morning with an annoying headache tormenting the left side of my head. I knew that would happen; the night before happened to be the shortest in my entire life. Aside from the pain, the next thing that ascended on my mind was Pam.

  I looked at the clock on the wall and sprang up to my feet and went upstairs, mother appeared from nowhere.

  "Good morning. Breakfast is ready."

  "Where is Pam?"

  "Oh, she's gone about an hour ago. Come have breakfast."

  "No mother, I'm late for school."

  "I called Miss George and Mr Glasgow; told them you're not well and won't be coming to school today."

  "You did; why?"

  "Because you are not well; you have a bad headache and emotional issues we have to sort out right now."

  "I'm fine moth..."

  "No you are not. So go upstairs, clean up and get down here for breakfast, now!"

  I obeyed the order without question; I dragged myself upstairs holding my head to support the hammering going on inside.

  I hesitated for a moment outside my room to think of what it would look like after Pam's departure. The first thing that came to my mind was my paintings. Were they safe? Last time I checked, she didn't like them so the thought of some havoc done on them was rational.

  I crossed my finger and gently pushed the door open, then stood by it, my heart racing and so was the hammering in my head. I walked in.

  The paintings on the walls were still there except however, the one on the easel; Hope.

  The stretcher was there but the canvas had been removed. There were stains of wet colours on the floor. I stood there looking at the easel and the stretcher; my head banged more. I knew what she would do with it; that unfinished artwork will surely going to be burnt. Just like my sketch.

  "Bloody Hell!"

  "Yes; I saw her with it!" Mother told me when I asked her. "She had it rolled up."

  "Why did you let her leave with it? She's going to burn it, you know."

  "So what if she burns it? She burnt your sketch the first time, now you are lovers, so what would you care if she burns this one."

  "Mother! We are not lovers and you shouldn't have let her take it. I'm going straight to her house and get my artwork back; this minute."

  "Bradley; I think it's too late now."

  "What?" I was mad at that time; I started fuming. "She shouldn't even try it; and if she does; she'll pay for it." I walked back to my room.

  "Your breakfast is getting cold, you better hurry up." She called after me. I didn't say anything.

  What surprised me was, mother didn't even flinch at my anger or even showed concern about my plight. I wondered why she behaved that way; it made me angrier.

  I bathed, changed and went back downstairs for breakfast. My mind was intent on storming Pam's home to get back my painting or to raise hell. So I ate fast.

  "Slow down son; why are you rushing." I didn't reply. "I'm talking to you."

  "Mother I want my painting back and I am going to get it. I don't care what she wants to do with it; I just want it back."

  "Listen to me and listen well;" she retorted with an authoritative tone. “You brought it up on yourself. You brought her here against my will and didn't even tell me you were bringing a girl, a very sick girl, to come and stay the night at our house. Now she took something from you and you have the audacity to complain? You have no right to raise any hell either here, at Pam's house or anywhere else; and you will not. What do you think will happen if something worse had happened to her in our house? What if she dies here? Do you think we stand a chance of not getting sued and jailed? She was in a hospital Bradley; you brought her here instead of leaving her where she would've been taken care of."

  "But she wants me to get her out of the hospital."

  "You shouldn't have taken her out of there; I expected you to use a good sense of judgement to say no; but it turned out you have no such quality." She sighed. "I'm disappointed in you right now; I'm disappointed in you for not taking a little moment to think rationally before dragging her here." She sighed. "We should be expecting a knock on our door for either the police or her furious parents." I looked at her, shocked. "Oh don't look at me with that stupid face. You don't expect a sixteen year old sick girl that disappeared mysteriously from a sick bed in a hospital to be left alone on the loose, and not to be looked for." She stood up and went into the kitchen. "Take some aspirin and have some sleep; but be ready to be awakened any moment." She went to the kitchen. "God! You are so pathetic."

  Sleep didn't come, my headache remained. My mind was divided between the fate of my relationship with Pam, an expected knock on our door by either Pam's parents or the police or both; and maybe a possible fine or jail term. It was actually the first time in a long time that my art works became so boring to look at; I guess my mind was preoccupied with something bigger.

  I remembered Pam's parents the day I sneaked into Pam's room at the hospital. The questions they hit me with and the embarrassing dismissal they gave me were all fresh in my memory. And one thing for sure is, it's not going to be good when they come knocking at our door.

  I waited impatiently for whatever that was coming that day.

  I tried to get something to do just to take my mind away from my problems but it proved difficult. I took Mr Glasgow's book to read only to discover I was deceiving myself. I stood up and looked at my artworks but the move still didn't help. So I took a walk out.

  "I'm taking a walk, mother." I said. I didn't wait for her answer; I walked out the door. I had no idea what she did or how she felt when I closed the door. But she didn't open up the door to call me back. That was what I wanted. I just needed to be alone.