He Called Her At Midnight

"She looks so sad."

"That is one beautiful drawing, what inspired it?"

"Weren't you afraid to show such naked emotion in a design?"

These were some of the comments and questions raised by her visitors. The ones she deigned to let across the front door for she was a private person and valued her solitude. Her hand shook slightly as her index finger traced the lines of a heart-shaped face, big eyes full of incomprehensible sorrow and pink lips pursed in disdain. Save for the pink lips; black encompassed the piece and put forth the emotions that could never be hidden even after the passage of time. 

Looking at her, so dark and laden with emotions; the events leading to her  existence unfolded before her eyes. It took a great deal of effort to bring herself back from the abyss the breakup with Max had thrown her into. There had been days when her despair was too potent for her to get through, days where she turned up to work in full black because that was the only way she could explain her mood and dressing required a lot more effort than she had. Days where she would take constant bathroom breaks at work just to shed the tears in her heart. When the pain was too intense and breathing had become a chore. 

Time was indeed the healer of all wounds. To be able to look back on all that pain and feel a slight niggle of disappointment in the people they failed to be for each other attested to her emotional state. She was even crazier for entertaining the thought of seeing him again. 

“Had he changed? Would he notice the woman she had become? Had their time apart been as hard for him as it had for her at the beginning?” All these questions rotated in her mind like a spinning wheel and almost made it impossible for her to return to the task at hand. One thing was certain, Max was hurting and needed her. That is all that mattered, for now. 

Alexandra gave the piece one last glance and put it back on the mantle. Looking at her work from this vantage point gave her a level of satisfaction she could never get enough of. Art has always been there for her; even in her darkest days, she could rely on it to bring her back from the depths of despair. 

Dawn was soon breaking and she needed to put the finishing touches to the draft she was currently working on for a close friend. He had commissioned a piece from her on a whim so she wanted to knock his socks off with her artistic interpretation of his name. A smile crossed her face as she thought of him. 

Liam. He had came into her life when she least wanted to form lasting ties with anyone let alone a man yet couldn’t turn down his offer of friendship.

He Called Her At Midnight

There it was. The invite. A chance to step into his world again. She had kept it at the back of her mind that they would cross paths, but, never thought of the manner in which it would happen. Not this way, anyway.

Alexandra took stock of her surroundings with a cursory glance at the design she was currently working on. She had done good by herself. It had been hard, but, in the five years of their separation; she had chased the career she'd desired and went on to become the most sought after graphic design artists in New York. Everything around her gave her a sense of pride and fulfilment she'd never expected to have without him by her side. It meant that much more that she had succeeded on her own.

"Alexandra?" are you still there?"

Max's voice brought her back from her little reverie. He needed an answer and she needed to see him again, if only to see how he was holding up.

"Yes. I can come over, just not tonight. I'm under a tight deadline and I can't interrupt the creative process at this moment. Can you give me two days from now?", she asked?

"It'd mean a lot to me if you could make it tonight, please. Think about it."

With that entreaty, Max hang up.

Alexandra listened to the incessant beep of the dial tone for awhile longer before she finally took the phone from her ear and looked at it in disbelief. It was so like Max to ask for something monumental and act like it wasn't a big deal. If he could be so nonchalant about it, so could she.

After hanging up, she made her way to the mantle holding all the accolades she had received in the five years. Fine things. Appreciation for jobs well done and trophies from the Women's entrepreneurial groups on which she was a Board member. Encompassing all the trophies was the wall on which hang a few pictorial prints of her work. She unerringly reached for the largest print on the wall and took it back with her to the work table.

"Beautyin Ugly". The one design that held more of a personal meaning to her than the rest of her designs. Its title and frame held secrets only she was aware of and never shared with anyone. Beauty in Ugly was a result of an onslaught of despondency and despair, on a night she never thought she'd be able to get through without him. The fateful day she broke up with Max, she had acted so cool and stoic in his presence yet her heart was breaking into pieces. Her staidness only got her far enough from his presence before the shattered pieces of her heart pricked through the facade.

Love OR Life?

No filter or filter?

Four months down the road; and I am just getting the opportunity to share with you my 'happy new year' design. although, it was completed in March.

March. Quite the despondent month for me. A lingering feeling leftover from February. Between the end of February and beginning of March, I had the strongest urge to write, to the extent that I carried my journal wit me to work for a fortnight.
Two weeks of just opening and leafing through the pages without an entry. Two weeks of going through past entries in search of inspiration. Two weeks of staring at the numbers: 2018, that I had written a few weeks into January, to mark the year and subsequent entries that would follow. Two weeks of nothingness but the numbers 2018... 2018... 2018...
I, then stopped carrying my journal with me to work.

He Called Her At Midnight. Earlier in the weeks of March, I went through the last entry to the short story I was trying my hand at... He Called Her At Midnight, to gather more ideas on where I should take the story. As the ideas emerged and were quickly noted, I felt the need to transfer the noted to he pages of my Journal because that was where the story originated from.

2018. As I was going through my Journal, I hesitated on the page with 2018 on it. I looked at the dullness of the numbers and decided to give them a bit of shading for, I had left them as an outline at the beginning. In the process of shading; I mulled over my mental resolutions and wondered if any would come to pass.
'Would this look pretty if I added an I? How about this 2? Does it look like an L? Do I want it to be Love for Life or Love or Life? Which one is better? Life or Love first? Should I add an R to the 0 or make it For? It seems lengthy. Better an R at the end to make or.
Something is missing. Can the word happy fit at the top of the page? How will I draw it in? Won't I spoil the design? Let me put it next to the 2 and make sure it forms the H without losing the number.'
As questions plagued the mind; the fingers flew over the page, in an attempt to answer them while bringing the ideas to life.
In that moment; my first design for 2018 was borne and the installment to my story quietly forgotten. I blue inked the additions before settling on color. Seeing that it was my first design of the year, I went on a coloring spree and don't regret the decision for it the color added a bit of cheer to it. So much so that it leaves a smile on my face whenever I look at it.

It might be a little late to wish y'all a happy new year but it's not too late to ask God to make it better, if not the best, for all of you. :) I have shared the completed design with a few touch-ups for pomp. You can follow up on my creative work and process on Instagram at ShanahOduty  and Facebook as ShanahOffDuty.

He Called Her At Midnight

"Alexandra. I hope I didn't wake you", he said.
"No. I am up finalizing a design."
She heard him draw a deep albeit shaky breath. Like he was mentally bracing himself for what he was about to say. Hearing him do so put her on edge. The call itself had thrown her mind and emotions off kilter. To hear him do so before revealing his reasons for the late night phone call didn't bode well.
"Max... What's wrong?"
"Alexandra... She... I need you..."
Max was never a stutterer. If anything; he was the one person you could rest assured would find the right words, no matter the situation. His incoherent reply meant the situation was a lot worse than she could imagine.
"What is it?", she asked. "Tell it to me at once because you're scaring me."
With that; her thoughts raced over every possible situation that could get him to act this way. Try as she may; she couldn't find a plausible reason that would explain his current behavior. She was about to prod him for an explanation when his hushed words cut off her thoughts.
"Tessa died." He whispered over the phone. "She must have slipped out of the apartment while I was in the shower."
His change in tone denoted the gravity of the situation. A situation, it seemed, he couldn't bring himself to accept. Every word out of him came in slow, shaky tones that brooked no interruption.
Tears rushed to her eyes as she tried to stifle a sob while listening to the gory details. Marc- his next door neighbour, had found the little dog whimpering and covered in blood on the way back from his late night jog. He'd immediately scooped it up and rushed to Max's apartment after recognising her spotted tail.
Alexandra could only imagine what this loss would do to him. Tessa was his world. The last tangible link to a past he refused to let go of. The one thing he swore was the only good thing out of it. Knowing how much Tessa meant to him made her glad for the fact that they were able to share her last moments together - in the safe haven of his arms where she had known so much love and comfort.