Chapter 166:
The First Steps into Uncertainty
Megan’s POV:
It was pleasantly warm inside the studio, but that vague sense of unease remained. I couldn’t shake off the scene with Miles out of my mind and now, stepping into this entirely different environment, I was from my element. The colors were all overly bright, and the art/tat overly eclectic but I still felt out of place.
“Hey, Megan, right?” Max’s voice sliced through my thoughts.
I turned to see him standing beside his canvas, a friendly smile on his face. His presence was reassuring and stood in stark contrast to the turmoil I felt inside.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, trying to force a smile. “Just trying to get a lay of the land.”
Max nodded, observing me in a glance that seemed full of curiosity and sympathy. “It’s normal to feel that way. This place can be overwhelming at first.”
It was actually rather endearing. “Thank you, Max. I suppose I’m just not used to being here right now.”
Max chuckled just slightly. “You’d be surprised at how many people feel that way when they first walk in the door. But you get used to it.”
As we spoke, I saw an old lady coming towards us. Her face seemed to be chiseled with life experience and wisdom. She was wearing a fancy apron, all splattered with paint, and her eyes were beacons.
“Ah, you must be Megan,” she said, proffering a hand. “I’m Clara, the owner of this little haven.”
Relieved, I took her hand, thankful for such a warm welcome. “Nice to meet you, Clara. This place is incredible.”
“Oh, thank you, honey,” smiled back Clara, stretching her smile. “We try to make it really open and inspiring for every person. And you, maybe you are an artist?”
I hesitated about how to answer that. “Not really. More like a boxer.”
In Valerie’s eyes, interest immediately sparkled. “You’re a boxer. Hey, but that’s very interesting. Art and boxing-a real bifurcation.”
“Yeah, they are,” I admitted. “But I guess I am here to explore something new.”
“That’s the spirit,” Clara said, patting my shoulder reassuringly. “Now you can walk around and ask me whatever you need, okay?”
As Clara started to walk further from both of us, a really curious look came to Max’s eyes. “A boxer, huh? Sounds cool. So what brings you to an art studio?”
I shrugged, trying to find the right words. “I needed a break, I guess. Life’s been. complicated lately.”
Max nodded, getting it now. “Art seems to find a way of allowing you to process things, even if you don’t realize it straight away.”
“Maybe,” I said, looking around the studio. “I just don’t know where to start.”
“How about right here?” Max asked and pointed to an empty stand. “No pressure. Pick up a brush and see where it goes.”
I hesitated for a moment but Max smiled encouragingly, so I gave it a try. Without further hesitations, I quickly grabbed a brush and dipped it in the bright blue paint, causing some really weird feelings of both excitement and apprehension.
“Hey, so what do you usually paint?” I started, wanting to make conversation, as I lightly applied it on the canvas.
“Mostly abstract,” Max responded matter-of-factly. “I like to portray feelings and moods in colours and forms. It’s pretty therapeutic.”
“Therapeutic,” I mumbled, looking at the brushstrokes. “Think I’m in need of some of that.”
We worked in silence, but the studio was buzzing with various noises. The air was filled with artists who had slid into their own worlds and, amidst rhythmic darting of brushes over canvases, we had picked up our paintings, side by side. I began to relax; creation was calming.
“So, tell me about boxing. How did you get into it?”
I took a pause and tried to figure out what to say. “It was just a way for me to channel-I guess how mad I was. I was really mad, and boxing helped me get rid of the frustration.”
He nodded slightly. “Makes sense. Art can be sort of like that too. A release. A way to let out what’s inside.”
I threw him a glance, appreciative at how insightful he was. “Yeah, something like that could be it because often that’s why I am even here, trying to find a new way to deal with stuff.”
He looked at me with his eyes soft and said, “Whatever the reason is, I am glad you are here because this place has a way of bringing people together and helping them find themselves.”
“Thanks,” I told him, feeling quite touched. “I needed to hear that.”
We both resumed painting and the silence became comfortable for both, both of us being lost in our thoughts. My canvas started to take the shape of the painting, and I felt a spark of accomplishment. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine.
A little while later, Max took a step back from his painting and turned to me. “You know, Megan, I feel you’re a natural.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Hardly. But it’s kind of fun.”
“That’s the spirit,” Max grinned, “Just keep at it. You’ll be surprised at what you can create.”
By the time we began to wrap the session up, I felt at home-a feeling of peace I hadn’t felt in quite a while. The studio was warm and creative, an escape from the hell of my life.
“Today was great, thanks Max,” I said to him after we’d cleaned all our supplies. “Honestly, I appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” he responded, his smile genuine. “I happen to be here most days if you ever feel like painting again.”
I found myself nodding and with a newfound sense of hope. “I just might take you up on that.”
A short walk from the studio and it hit me that an uncertain beginning might indeed bloom into an unpredicted and beautiful journey. And maybe, just maybe, this was a start of something new and meaningful in my life.