Working into the day with a new goal somehow felt refreshing. Despite the bags under one's eyes… he should have hope, right?… though, does hope sleep?
Drawing out the grid with chalk and ruler seemed simple enough… and as time passed. You could see customers come and go, the porch was closed off, giving the workspace, the needed area… after a few hours, some brunch, trial and error…and he finally got the dimensions right, it was around 1pm when he reveals an abstract floral pattern that, through branches, merged into the other side's two big lilies.
He could start painting tomorrow, but to prepare… He'd spread out a plastic cover over his portion of the porch and window, only enough to protect it from the paint.
Wishing to go early, off to the counter he went.
A young woman was mixing up a few drinks, all the while he'd approach.
She was quick enough to finish those drinks. Tending to the needs of two young men, and a girl. Who all looked to be around their early twenties.
One of them was busy gazing at their friend who'd been talking about social media trends, and the latest fashion spills. He was listening to her every word, and any person with a thought would've known he was in love. Norman would raise his eyebrows, nodding. Though he never really knew how these kids could be so bold. While the other young man was… eyeing him down…?
The young bartender would tap him on the shoulder, handing him an envelope that contained the promised money. She'd look down avoiding eye contact.
'Well…' Whatever her deal was, it was none of his business.
Days would fly, nights even colder… as in the next touch of light he'd start filling the shapes with their appropriate colors. The vision started to manifest… and by the third day, one could see select consumers intrigued by the piece. Though, among them all… something odd caught Norman's attention. You see, of all those people… every time the young bartender would pass by… there seemed to be this awe in her glance at the creation, like she held something back. Something so small yet bright…
The fourth day dawned, and he finally came to know what that was…
Awkwardly, she'd walk, her glare determined, a firm decision yet to be revealed… One of her companions, the young man who looked at Norman apprehensively then, and who still did now… follows.
"..."
"..."
"Let me paint with you?"
She paused
"Sure." He'd say.
It was her latent passion… Art.
An old pal of Norman's… had the same look, only with music... Though something was different, the flame in that young lady's eye was relit. An ember long dormant, and neglect. He throws her a clean brush.
"The leaves there."
She'd look at it, before grabbing the chalk… and laying it down – the gifted brush.
"Could I take some artistic liberties?"
"Yeah." He'd nod, such plain words.
What she drew on the left… over the red ribbon-like spiral, a snake, and on the leaf of the lilies, a pair of wings, a bird, a hummingbird.
"I'm not great at painting such elaborate things." He put bluntly
Without missing a beat she'd say "I'll help."
There was nothing more than a silent understanding between the two, allowing the mural to piece itself together by the hour.
Though Norman would pay no mind… the young lad who tailed her would watch intently as if he was so sure a crime were about to be committed in front of his eyes…
Time passes, and he would come to realize more about the bar, though it wasn't in his place to do so… early in the morning. He'd hear arguing from the floor above.
It was both mother and daughter.
It turns out mom had long given up responsibilities to dad, and whilst she was living the life of independence she so wished for. The man raised their child, living in a bar his late grandfather manned…
Years go by, and the man collapses due to unknown cause, the funeral was where both mother and child reunited… The mom wished to reconcile and help with both the financial needs and struggles of the bar – to fix broken ties. However, the daughter who was mourning couldn't see anything happening anytime soon.
Regardless, the mother was insistent, and bought the bar for all it's worth, forcing herself to live with her daughter…
"You're as stubborn as a mule! Why, why won't you just go!?"
"This is for our future! Can't you see I'm trying my best? Since when?! was a parent – with good intentions, not allowed permission to help their kid?! This shack is drowning in debt! You alone are sure as hell not enough to keep it afloat!"
"No! I don't get it! W-why! Are you so insistent on now!?"
"Don't you see?! I want to be involved! You're my child!"
"N-no! Like… w-why! Can't I have closure?! I'm mourning! I-I'm sad! Why can't I take my time?! And then maybe…just maybe!"
"Exactly! we're both mourning! Aren't we?! So… why don't we grieve together?!"
"Like you ever gave a shit about dad! It doesn't work like that! I don't even know you! I've hardly known you for the two weeks you've stayed!"
"Well it's not like you've tried too! Ungrateful brat!"
"You eavesdropped on my conversation with Jake! This whole mural thing!? Apparently I had no idea how nosey you could be!"
"I'm. trying. to. help!"
The young lady's voice climbed. "Do you think this is going to change anything? The fact you abandoned dad and me?! The fact that while- you! We're out there living the life- you! wanted, did you ever once think about me? Was I- living the life I- wanted?! Was dad… okay?!" She continues "You know what's even more fucked up!? We're in a fucking compound! That no matter how many minutes away you were! Your pretty little reputation mattered more! Didn't it-!"
Before anything more could be said, a slam followed by faint sobbing could be heard. The bar owner stomped her way down the stairs, face red. The old woman couldn't have cared less about her surroundings, muttering slurs.
The bar was closed that day…
And despite everything the final afternoon would come and go, as the finishing touches were due.
Norman's demeanor hadn't changed, as although it seemed new at first… working on the mural soon became just as dull as any other day…something ate at him… from the inside out… and the end of the week was rolling around, the continuation of his monotonous lifestyle would soon resume, but to delay that for even a few hours…
"Sir. Thatcher, aren't you supposed to head home by now?" The girl would comment.
"No, I'll finish up these last couple of details… you should go back and man the bar before the night grows any longer."
The Lad who'd often roam near her, was now lavishly drinking his thoughts away a few tables over.
"… thank you by the way."
"Thank you…? What for?"
"For letting me… paint…"
"Don't sweat It. It's your place, no?"
She'd reluctantly nod.
"But… since I am the one being paid for this, you go do your thing, and I'll wrap up here."
"Ah- r-right… thanks! Again…"
Norman went on, mindful with every brushstroke.
The time: 7:00pm. The bar owner was late, which was unlike her. But the man would turn, only to be greeted by complete and utter chaos…the young bartender?… she was drinking with her clients, her companion offering another, one sip and she was out of it. Then in the middle of all the ruckus Mr. "I don't trust you" carries her out back…
Norman made his way through the rowdy party.
Rightfully concerned…