"Sometimes I wonder why I chose to become an artist," I spoke to break the silence and River lifted his eyes from his novel, "At first it was just something I did for fun, but then once my parents realised it was something I was actually good at they couldn't miss the opportunity to showcase my talents at all costs."
"So you do it all to please your parents?" River asked and I paused.
"Maybe at first it was like that, every time I came home with a new trophy or award from winning a competition or entering an exhibit it made them so proud. And they looked at me in a way they never had before, like I wasfinallyworth all that they'd been through for me."
"But that's not it, is it?" River persuaded and if I were telling this story to anyone else they would've let it end there, but not River.
"Then I started to like the feeling of being praised not just by my parents but by my school, and critics and everyone. I liked the power it gave me; having a paintbrush in my hand and knowing that was the very instrument I could use to finally make people see me. I got a sick thrill from winning, I didn't even care about the other kids who lost, I lived for the feeling of being on top." I admitted,
River took the piece of paper I was drawing on from me and my pencil, he began to draw the sun into my sky, it looked so realistic and detailed, almost like he was born to do so.
"And I live for the escape." He said.
I gazed out my window past the flashes of small towns I'd never heard of and I'd probably never visit or see again, I wondered who lived there and what their lives were like. If things were easy or if things were hard, if they had good families, good lives. And the hardest part for my thriving artist brain is that I'll never know.
I glanced over at River who was still reading The Great Gatsby, I sighed and got up to go to the bathroom. The train bathroom was small and I could feel the railroad tracks when I sat down, which was a strange experience I'd much rather never go through again. Once I'd washed my hands and got back to my seat I noticed Geneviève had taken the liberty of changing seats, so she was with River.
I wasn't going to fight her on it, nor was I going to declare the seat mine or even try to get her to move. Then I'd look just as immature and desperate just like her, I walked up to them and my gaze caught Gene’s. I smiled politely and grabbed my bag before proceeding to sit with Fabian, River as per usual was unbothered.
I wondered how he always managed to remain almost inhumanly composed in almost every situation unless I pushed him of course but otherwise he'd remain just the same. How on earth had he perfected the art of impassiveness?
"Hope I'm not being much of a bother, just wanted a chance to talk to my friend." Gene pouted and River looked up from his book for a second and gave me a look that suggested he was just as confused as I was.
"Of course not," I replied, proceeding to take a seat across from Fabian, who was playing some game on his Nintendo.
"Don't look too disappointed to see me." Fabian bantered and I gave him an apologetic smile.
"I don't know why she hates me." I huffed,
"Geneviève hates everyone," Fabian assured me, his thumbs tapping away,
"Not River," I muttered to myself.
"How could anyoneever?" Fabian retorted sarcastically,
"Don't be like that Fabes." I exasperated,
"I'm sorry for earlier, at the library." He apologised, closing his Nintendo, "I was a total dick."
"Yeah you were, but that's okay," I assured him, not wanting to avoid him anymore.
"No it wasn't, I was just sick of seeing you get hurt and I guess I kind of lashed out," Fabian admitted shifting his gaze, “It wasn’t my place to approach River.”
"Apology accepted." I smiled, "In one of the coldest cities in the world, everyone needs a friend like you to keep them in warm company."
"You're the only one in all of Paris who thinks that." Fabian protested, he was blushing, just a little.
Just then the train came to a halt and the conductor announced that we'd arrived in Geneva, Switzerland and everyone who'd fallen asleep began to wake up and gather their belongings. I got up and grabbed my bag and reached for Fabian's hand.
"No, now I'm the only person in Geneva who knows that." I encouraged and he reluctantly took my hand and I pulled him up to his feet.
We'd arrived at the train station and it was much fancier and crowded. A kind man took our luggage and offered to call a cab for us. We thanked him and River tipped him quite generously before he helped load our belongings into the back of the cab. It was being driven by an elderly gentleman by the name of Maurice who wore a bright yellow straw hat and spoke very highly of his grandchildren.
River was in the front seat while the rest of us all had to squeeze at the back with Keomi on Fabian's lap, neither of them seemed to mind that.
"If you move your hands anywhere down south I'm going to strangle you with my scarf." Keomi threatened and Fabian dropped his hands,
"I was only trying to be your human seatbelt but whatever floats your boat." Fabian excused and Keomi laughed, swatting at him with the end of her frilly pink scarf.
