Page 13 of Absorbed

Stacey shook her head.

“Me either. But I’ve always wanted to. It was so hot today, I felt like a colder climate would be nice tonight.”

Stacey stifled a laugh. Despite the late hour, it was still about ninety degrees in the classroom. Stacey held her arms away from her body to keep the sweat from dripping down her sides. The scent of sweet jasmine emanated from her teacher, and Stacey hoped it was enough to mask her own odor.

Ms. Moreno rinsed her brush in the dirty water and dipped it in the clean water again, then re-wet the center of the page. This time the water pushed the navy paint back onto itself. Swirling the tip of her brush in a green puddle on the plate, Ms. Moreno barely grazed the paper’s wet surface with a ribbon of sea green that arched and wove its way across the diagonal of the page, diffusing at its edges into the blue.

It was magical how the clear water could both blend and separate the colors, moving like the lights in the sky, just as Stacey had imagined back when she was a freshman.

Within seconds, Ms. Moreno created two green flashes of color that danced over the darkness, then cleaned her brush and added a brighter blue hue that curved upward between them like fingers, and magenta streaks that eased downward along the edges of the inky sky.

Stacey was in awe of the scene appearing before her, and the ease of Ms. Moreno’s movements. Her teacher’s serene expression as she painted inspired a lighter feeling in Stacey as well.

With the narrowest brush, Ms. Moreno pulled rivers of navy between the bright aurora borealis streaks. The colors began blending at their blurry edges, while unifying into one picturesque night scene. Each color stretched and moved harmoniously with the others, but remained individual and pure. It was like watching a ballet of paint. Stacey was hypnotized by the paint’s flow on the page under the iridescent lights.

“Now we’ve seen it,” Ms. Moreno said. Stacey turned to look at her, and her teacher lifted her eyebrows. “Ready to try?” She motioned toward another piece of paper taped to the table.

Stacey tilted back, both hands up. “Uh uh. There’s no way I could do that.”

“Why not try? It’s only a piece of paper.”

Stacey shrugged, rocking back on the legs of the stool.

“You’re here. What else did you plan to do?” Ms. Moreno smiled. “Give it a shot.”

Stacey shrugged again, then pulled the stool up to the table. She used a large brush to coat the paper with water.

“Now, mix equal parts azure and amethyst on your palette. Add a tiny bit of black,” Ms. Moreno instructed.

Stacey combined the colors as directed and noted how they blended first to electric blue, then the addition of black turned it to the midnight color Ms. Moreno had used. She dragged the large brush across the top of the blank white page, creating an inky streak of sky.

“Before you put any more paint down, decide in your mind how you want your composition to look. Art should be approached with intention, but be flexible with how it wants to turn out. If you cover the paper with all that darkness, there won’t be space for the light to show. Leave breathing room.”

Stacey remembered the way Ms. Moreno only touched the very edges of the page at first, reapplying the paint there multiple times, and using clean water to push the color outward and keep the center mostly white. Stacey did the same. The night sky deepened into itself as she added more of the dark tones along the top edge. Her composition wouldn’t have the bright colors drifting off the top of the sheet like Ms. Moreno’s. Stacey’s own northern lights would be smaller, a flash in the distance.

Ms. Moreno explained the rest of the process again step-by-step. Stacey traded out the large brush for smaller ones, alternating the dark and vibrant hues. She imitated Ms. Moreno’s way of holding her elbow out, her finger-grip loose on the brush. Along with the smooth swipe of the bristles across the grain of the paper, Stacey felt a gentle wave passing through her own body, as though the day’s worries had been washed away.

Minutes later, Stacey’s aurora borealis appeared before her. Without knowing it, the world around her had evaporated, and she’d managed to escape to this magical place, at least for twenty minutes or so.

Ms. Moreno stood next to her. “Hermosa,” she said.

Stacey eased back on the stool and grinned. “Thank you.”

“Ready for the fun part?” Her teacher held up two old toothbrushes with a mischievous smile.

Stacey cocked her head, skeptical of Ms. Moreno’s enthusiasm.

Ms. Moreno poured a puddle of white onto a plate. She handed Stacey a toothbrush, and dipped her own toothbrush into the water, then into the paint. “Don’t forget to tap it on the side of the plate to get the excess off,” she said, demonstrating. She aligned her toothbrush with the ribbons of color on the paper and pulled her finger up the bristles. A faint spray of stars flicked across the scene. She did it again and again, angling the toothbrush to scatter the stars across the paper. At one end, the tiny stars were smaller and closer. On the other side, they were spread apart, giving the night sky a natural curvature.

Ms. Moreno rinsed the toothbrush, wiped it on the rag, then dipped her fingers in the water and did the same. Her dark fingers were coated in chalky white paint that pooled under her fingernails, but she didn’t seem to care. She nodded in Stacey’s direction, encouraging her to try.

Stacey didn’t tap off enough paint or angle her toothbrush the right way. Her first spray of scattered stars was chaotic; some were too large, and they all fell across the bottom of the paper.

“Damnit,” Stacey said, dropping the toothbrush on the table and grabbing the rag.

“Wait!”

“They’re too big! I need to—”

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