Page 26 of Painting Celia

Um. “It’s the opposite of blue.”

“And why am I the opposite color from nervous?” His voice sounded amused.

“You’re not supposed to make me nervous,” she explained. “I mean, I should be the opposite of nervous because you’re trying to help me.”

“Actually, I’m purposely trying to keep you a little nervous.”

Like he had to try.

“Well, then…I’m red, and you’re a person, so you’re orange, which has red in it.”

“You’re getting literal again.”

Ugh! Without cleaning her brush, she dipped into the black and painted a thick line across the top of the orange.

He chuckled behind her. “What’s that strong line about?”

She breathed out hard. “I ruined it.”

“No,” he said low, leaning in, “you painted that for a reason. That’s good! So, why?”

“I….” Why had she done it? “I don’t understand what you want, so I crossed you out.”

He laughed. He wasn’t mad?

“That’s legit!” he said. “That could be fear, or frustration, or anger at me for not being clear.”

Fear, maybe. She didn’t do anger.

“Are you still red?” he prompted. “Do you have other colors?”

She motioned as though she’d clean the brush again, then changed her mind and added a black line near a blue one, crossing her.

“I’m crossing myself out for not getting this.”

“Sure, frustration can be in more than one place.”

She drew a breath, cleaned her brush, and chose a yellow, stroking it over the orange just to the side.

“I’m yellow now too?”

“You’re encouraging me, it makes me less nervous. So, you’re not as scary.”

“And why yellow?”

“I like yellow.”

He laughed, and a slight chuckle rose up in her too. This wasn’t remotely like her old classes, but she could begin to see what he was expecting.

He finally came to her side and took the brush and palette from her. “Look at what you did. You told a story on the canvas about emotions.”

She looked at her rudimentary primary colors. It looked like a child’s drawing. Worse even. Just lines.

She glanced sideways at him, and he flashed a reassuring smile.

“Okay,” he said, “it’s not going into a gallery, but the important thing is what it represents. Especially this.” He pointed at the black. “That was spontaneous expression. That’s a good thing.”

She smiled weakly.

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