The Art of Life (5 page)

               
With
a tilt of his head, Jeremy asks, “Why?”

               
“I
haven’t done anything for my birthday since I was 8.
 
My mom sometimes remembers, but for the most
part forgets, or doesn’t care.
 
So, this
year, I didn’t have a single person even remember my birthday, except for my
art teacher.
 
He gave me a new set of
charcoal pencils, really nice ones.”

               
“Well
then, we need to get going,” Jeremy jovially shouts, as he stands up.
 

               
He
extends his hand out and I grab it.
 
Getting up, I ask, “Where are we going now?”

               
“We
are going to celebrate your birthday.”

               
I
start to shake my head, and go, “No, no, no, that is not why I told you that!”

               
“I
know, but I am hungry and we are going to go have a birthday dinner.
 
Everyone needs some sort of cake for their
birthday. I will never bake for you because I can’t bake to save my life, but
the restaurant will have cake.
 
Come on,
it will be fun,” Jeremy says, with his big, beautiful smile.

               
“Okay,
fine,” I reply.
 
“I can pay for myself,
though.”

               
Jeremy
scoffs.
 
“Who pays for their own birthday
dinner?”

               
“You
just met me, you sure don’t have to!”

               
Looking
at me with a very thoughtful look, Jeremy quietly says, “Let me do this.”

               
The
look in his eyes tells me not to argue.
 
“Okay,” I whisper.
 
He grabs my
hand and pulls me back down the path.
 

               
When
we get to the bike he says, “You going to drive?”

               
Gasping,
I say, “No!
 
I don’t even have my
driver’s license!
 
I can’t drive a
motorcycle!”

               
“Why
don’t you have your driver’s license?”

               
My
gaze shoots out into the distance.
 
“My
mom never let me get it.
 
I have studied
and memorized the handbook, so I as soon as I graduate and get a real job.
 
I am getting one.”

               
“Why
don’t you have a job right now?
 
You
could work at night or on the weekends.”
 
Jeremy points out, as he pulls on his helmet.

               
Taking
a deep, depressed breath, I reply, “My mom needs a lot of help, and it is
pretty much my responsibility to take care of her.”

               
“Is
she sick?” He asks, hesitantly.

               
Snorting,
I retort, “You could say that.
 
I don’t
really talk about my home life with anyone, no offense.”

               
“No
offense taken, I will get you your license before we are done, too.
 
You are going to need that.”

               
“You
don’t have a car to teach me,” I point out.

               
Getting
a big grin on his face, Jeremy says, “Who says I don’t have a car?”

               
“I
don’t know.
 
I didn’t see one at your
house.
 
Of course, I wasn’t really
looking for one.”

               
“It’s
in the shop right now.
 
Getting some
kinks worked out.
 
Now, get on the
bike.
 
I am really hungry.”

               
I
put the helmet and backpack on, and climb on the back.
 
“Where are we going?”

               
“Anything
special you want?” He asks.

               
“No, maybe a place not so popular.
 
I like quieter restaurants.”

               
Starting
the bike, Jeremy nods his head, “Sounds good to me.”

               
We
drive through town, meandering through the streets.
 
I am starting to think he has no idea where
we are going.
 
Finally, we pull up to a
small building.
 
“What is this place?”

               
“It’s
a little Mexican restaurant.
 
They have
the best burritos.
 
Like the size of your
head!”

               
“Oh
great,” I laugh.
 
We walk inside and the
smell of good food immediately hits me.
 
It makes me stomach growl.
 
Mom
can fend for herself tonight.
 
This is
going to be great.

               
Jeremy
slides into one of the booths and I sit down opposite of him.
 
A waitress comes up.
 
“What can I get you to drink?”

               
“A
beer, please,” Jeremy says, handing over his ID.

               
“Whatever
diet cola you have for me,” I add in.

               
The
waitress nods her head and leaves.
 
Jeremy looks over at me.
 
“So,
tomorrow’s Friday and I have to work all day, but Saturday and Sunday, I am
free.
 
Can we get started then?”

               
“Sure,”
I reply.
 
“I don’t like to be home on the
weekends anyway.”

               
“I
have some big plans for you, young lady.
 
We have to start out slowly though.
 
If we do everything at once, it’s going to be one of those cliché make
over things.
 
Oh look, she got everything
done and now she is a new person.
 
We
will work things in slowly, so that you aren’t fodder for that chick.”

               
Laughing,
I say, “You have put some thought into this, haven’t you?”

               
“I
thought about a lot last night,” Jeremy replies, almost quietly.
 
Quickly he changes the subject.
 
“What kind of clothes do you want to wear?”

               
“That’s
the point.
 
I don’t know!
 
I don’t want to be outrageous or anything.”

               
With
an exasperated sigh, Jeremy sarcastically groans.
 
“Fine, no skin tight leather dresses.”

               
 
That makes me laugh, “No, sorry, no skin tight
anything.”

               
“Too
bad, skin tight leather dresses are hot.”
 
Jeremy wiggles his eyebrows.

               
“I
don’t think I could pull off hot, but normal is sufficient.
 
I want to pull off normal.”

               
Jeremy
winks at me.
 
“You will be hot.
 
Trust me.”

               
Now,
my face has to be beat red.
 
“I doubt
that.”

               
Suddenly,
the waitress comes up.
 
She sets down
Jeremy’s beer and my drink.
 
“What can I
get you?”

               
“Oh,”
I squeak.
 
“I haven’t even looked at the
menu.”

               
“That’s
fine,” Jeremy interjects.
 
“Do you eat
beef?”
 
I nod.
 
He turns to the waitress.
 
“Give us two number threes.”

               
The
waitress smiles and says, “I will put that right in.”

               
Leaning
forward, I ask, “What did you just order us?”

               
“You
will love it!
 
Trust me.
 
So, tell me about yourself.
 
You won’t show me your art, but there has to
be other stuff.”

               
I
bite my lip.
 
Am I really going to do
this?
 
I haven’t ever done it
before.
 
Taking a deep breath, I reach
into my backpack and take out my sketchbook.
 
I hand it across the table.
 
“You
can look.”

               
“Seriously?”

               
Closing
my eyes, I say, “Take it before I chicken out.”

               
He
snatches it out of my hand.
 
Jeremy sets
it on the table and opens the cover.
 
I
think I am going to throw up on the table; my stomach is in such a knot.
 
“Isabelle,” he whispers.
 
“These are amazing.”

               
“Really?”
I ask hesitantly.
 
“You aren’t just saying that?”

               
“No!”
he softly exclaims.
 
“You should go to art
school.
 
This is incredible.
 
Look at the detail.
 
You capture people.
 
I mean, it’s like you see them, their
personalities.”
 
I watch him slowly go
through the pages.
 
“Okay, now that is
the best one!”

               
I
burst out laughing.
 
“Yeah, I was a
little agitated.”

               
“But
you pulled off the guillotine perfectly,” Jeremy chuckles.
 
“The expression on Sonya’s face is also
pretty accurate.”
 
Suddenly, he flips to
the last page.
 
Oh no!
 
I leap across the table and slam the book
shut.
 
Jeremy just laughs.
 
He yanks the book out from under my
hands.
 
“Now, now, now, you have to let
me see myself.”

               
“No,
please, I just did it last night.
 
Please, oh this is so embarrassing.”

               
He
opens the book back up and looks at my sketch of him.
 
“You make me look a lot better than I
actually do.”

               
“Jeremy,
you are gorgeous.
 
Don’t act like you
don’t know that,” I snap playfully.

               
Raising
his eyebrow is the only response that I get.
 
“Can I have this?”

               
“What?
 
Why would you want it?”

               
“Because
you drew it, and it’s great,” Jeremy replies.

               
He
actually wants it?
 
“Sure, you can have
it.”

               
“Are
you sure?
 
You can always frame it and
put it up in your room and gaze at it every night when you go to bed.”
 
I burst out into giggles.
 
He gets a shocked look on his face.
 
“It’s not that funny.”

               
“Oh,
poor baby, I bet you already have girls pining away for you.
 
You don’t need another one.”

               
Getting
a devious grin, Jeremy says, “You can never have too many female fans.”

               
“Oh
geez,” I groan, looking away.

               
Suddenly,
the door opens.
 
I turn around to
look.
 
My heart drops.
 
I quickly turn around and look out the
window.
 
Really, why does this always
happen to me?
 
I can see Jeremy staring
at me.
 
He looks at the people that just
walked in and then back at me.
 
“Isn’t
that the guy from yesterday?” He asks.

               
“Yes,”
I hiss quietly.
 
“His name is Eric.”

               
“Why
are we whispering?” Jeremy asks, leaning forward.

               
“Because,”
I reply harshly, “I don’t want him to notice that I am here.”