Intermission - Fernanda Santos (Part 3)

She couldn’t take it anymore. Staying in bed feeling sorry for herself only made it all worse. She didn’t want to go back to have dinner while two steps away from crying, either, so she got up and went over to her desk instead.

It wasn’t any old desk, though. Wide, spacious and made from smooth, clear wood. She had asked for it as a birthday gift when she was turning 12 and it was still one of her favorite things in the world. She hadn’t taken it with her when she moved out and was happy to come back to it after all these months. She didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing.

On top she had three pencil holders with all the old, random leftovers of led pencils, color pencils, pens, fineliners and other things like short rulers and box cutters. Things that still worked but were no longer part of a complete set. The rest she kept on the three drawers right under the desk. Empty or unfinished sketchbooks, full sets of pencils and coloring markers still in their boxes, oil paints, watercolor paints, pencil sharpeners, erasers, masking tape… And whatever didn’t fit there was… somewhere inside one of the many boxes in her closet.

Her desk wasn’t in pristine condition. It had old paint stains, some light bumps and scratches and was, at that moment, covered in pencil shavings and eraser crumbs.

She swiped it all into the small trash can under the desk and took out one of her sketchbooks. She opened it to the next empty page, grabbed a led pencil and began to draw lines. Straight, horizontal lines from left to right.

Swift motions, no hesitation, using her entire arm and shoulder instead of just her wrist. Her lines were perfect, consistent. The same thickness every time, the same length every time. She filled three pages like that, front and back.

After that she did vertical lines from top to bottom, then diagonal lines, then circles. That whole sketchbook was solely for this kind of boring practice and it was reaching its last few pages already. She had only bought it two weeks ago.

It was boring practice, yeah, but it calmed her mind, if only slightly. She felt good enough to go down to eat, only 40 minutes later. Her parents sat down with her, not leaving her to eat alone.

“How was work today?” her mother asked, her tone careful. It pained Fernanda that her mother felt she had to treat her with kid’s gloves, but she couldn’t deny that this was a touchy subject for her.

“It was… better today,” Fernanda answered after swallowing some chicken. “Ms. Day… I m-mean, Maria brought a waiter from another shift.”

Her boss had said it was to train another waitress, but Fernanda wasn’t that stupid. She knew Maria brought Oliver to clean up her screwups. It stung because it showed that Fernanda wasn’t able to handle things alone, but even so…

“He helped a lot. I think… I think I learned a lot today.”

Her dad’s eyes brightened. “You mean young Oliver? He was helping you today?”

Her dad knew Oliver from even before Fernanda saw him for the first time. They were gym buddies, according to him. In fact, Fernanda tried to hide it, but she enjoyed it when her dad told stories of Oliver.

Fernanda nodded. “It was… pretty impressive. I get overwhelmed all the time, but he handled it all like it was nothing.”

“Of course, Fern. He HAS been doing this longer than you, right? Experience would be worth its weight in gold if it had any actual weight,” her dad said with a laugh.

She smiled. “I guess.”

“He didn’t yell at you or anything, did he?” her mom asked.

“No, not at all. He was… very patient. It’s almost shameful that he’s younger than me…”

“Please, there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” her dad said. “If we only chose to read books from old authors, we’d be missing great stories from the young up-and-comers. There’s no rule that says you can’t learn from those younger than you.”

Her mom chuckled. “Besides, isn’t he only a year younger than you?”

“I… I think so? A-Anyway, it went a lot smoother today thanks to him and I made less mistakes.”

“See? You’re starting to get the hang of it,” her mother praised.

Fernanda couldn’t accept it. She wasn’t getting the hang of it. Things were only easier because Oliver was there. If he hadn’t been there, it would’ve been yet another disastrous day.

…

But it was still better to have him helping there. Much better.

“Say, Fern, you don’t have any shifts this next weekend, right?”

“No, I don’t. Why?”

“Your mother wants to go to this nice resort she heard about. A day of walking and then enjoying open-air hot springs and pools and nice meals. I checked and we’re lucky there are rooms available. What do you say?”

“...” More of the same. Her parents were too good to her. She didn’t deserve all this. But if her mom wanted to go and Fernanda refused, they would either go without her or not go because of her. She didn’t like any of those options. She didn’t want to be alone, but also didn’t want her parents to stop doing the things they liked because of her. Fernanda nodded. “Okay. It sounds fun.”

“Excellent! I’ll make the reservations right away!”

Her dad grabbed his phone and made the call immediately. They still had those rooms available and the reservation was finalized.

For a moment she entertained the cliched but fun fantasy of coincidentally meeting Oliver in that same resort. She would get to see him in a swimsuit, and the mental image alone made her heart skip a beat.

Bah! Again, Fernanda had to stop it with the fantasies. They weren’t doing her any good. It was better if she focused on her job this next week so she could at least feel like she deserved the vacation at least a little bit.

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