Isa returns to continue exploring the mystery around the strange paint she was gifted by a friend. She spends the day painting to test her theory about the paint and its potential. Diptych is being released in serial form and should be read in order. To read other issues of Diptych, click the links below.
Image Description: An assortment of paintbrushes of various sizes are covered in splotches of paint. They are lined up along a piece of heavily painted stone.
Credit: Yannis Papanastasopoulos / Unsplash via Webador
Isa didn’t trust her theory. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more certain she was that the brain fog was making her sift information incorrectly, but the thought that something was seriously odd about the paint she had been gifted. Isa sat before two easels, with two palettes filled with paint. She held a brush between her fingers and glanced out the window for inspiration. Dark clouds filled the sky and threatened rain. I want the sun to come out, she thought. Holding the thought at the forefront of her mind, she charged up a large brush with pale blue paint from her new collection and covered one of the canvasses with large, sweeping brushstrokes. At the bottom, she created the impression of the front steps of the house she and Lenna shared. Yes, this was the kind of day she wanted to see. Isa leaned sideways to get a good look out the window. Gray nimbus clouds hung overhead.
She sat back a little disappointed. Maybe the strange occurrences really were just matters of coincidence. Determined to continue her experiment, Isa pulled the clean canvas closer and switched to her usual set of acrylic paint and brushes. I want the TV to turn on so I don’t have to get up and find the remote, she tried, painting a boxy rendition of a flat screen that emitted the soft glow of artificial light. Nothing happened but Isa wasn’t surprised. This was her regular set of paints after all.
Isa stretched and shook out her hands. Even painting simple images without a whole lot of worry about making mistakes, she was growing tired. Painting was more physical than people might think. The painter jumped at a light brush across her ankles.
“You hungry?” Isa asked the cat – Popcorn – sitting at her feet. Popcorn’s jaws opened into a massive yawn and her little body shook with force. “No, you want to snuggle, don’t you?” Isa reached down and scratched behind the feline’s ears with the back of her paintbrush. Popcorn leaned into the scratch. “Sorry Bubba, I’m still working.” The cat meowed loudly when Isa sat back up. “Aw, sorry girl,” crooned Isa, “just give me a little more time. I’ll need a break soon.” Another yawn cut short Popcorn’s next yawn. Isa felt her eyes water as she tried not to do the same. “What I really need is a coffee.” An iced java on her mind, Isa pulled the dry canvas with the blue sky close and outlined the image of an iced coffee cup on the railing of the porch.
The doorbell rang just as she added a thin green line to indicate the straw.
Isa set down her brush and palette and wiped the paint from her hands onto her apron. Leaning on her cane, she cracked open the door leading to the hallway she and Lenna shared with their neighbors. A man with tight curls and a wide smile stood on the other side of the door. He offered a friendly wave.
“I was just running out to the store,” Kevin said. “Can I get you any—?”
“—An iced coffee,” Isa said in a rush. “Milk, no sugar.”
Kevin raised his eyebrows in surprise. “It’s like you knew I was coming,” he laughed.
Isa stared at him in response, then remembered what she had been doing before he had rung the doorbell. “Right,” she laughed breathily. “I was just waiting by the door to give you my order,” she joked.
Isa closed the door as he left, shocked by her luck. Had a neighbor really just randomly come to her door offering to add her wishes to his errands? Belatedly, she realized she should have asked him to pick up milk and eggs rather than fulfilling her craving for coffee. She stood in front of her easels and reached out to touch the freshly painted canvas. A bit of mocha colored paint wiped off the painting of the coffee cup and onto her finger. A dizzy spell that reminded Isa of drunkenness overtook her. Again, the bell rang. A few moments later, an iced coffee cup was in her hands, condensation leaking between her fingers and dampening the label on the side of the plastic cup. The dizziness subsided as she took her first sip. A high followed like the relief of cool water soothing a burn.
I needed that. Isa sighed contentedly and set down the drink. With her other hand, she picked up a paintbrush. I can’t believe that worked, she thought. Unless it was just coincidence. Kevin’s a nice guy after all. She would have to continue the experiment. Isa fiddled with the paintbrush, trying to think of another thing to manifest. She caught a glimpse of her thumb. Interesting. The brown paint that had been on her finger was gone. She shrugged it off and got to work.
Isa sat on the couch, using her arms to help ease both of her legs onto the footrest in front of her. She settled her head against the back of the sofa and tried to ignore the uncomfortable ache that had spread throughout her body. Tremors had started in the right side of her body, and it was time to rest. Around her, a collection of groceries, home goods and other odd items had amassed around her. Some had been delivered by neighbors who said they had been “thinking of her.” Others had arrived at random without explanation. A few more items simply belonged in other parts of the house, but happened to appear exactly where she needed them. She didn’t know what she was going to tell Lenna, but she was starting to believe there was something quite unusual about the paint she was using.
Isa closed her eyes. An hour nap was exactly what she needed before Lenna came home. Just as Isa was nodding off, a brightness cut through the protection of her eyelids. She opened her eyes in confusion. The television had switched on, and the menu screen lit the room with its purplish glow. Isa sat up, remembering the painting she had made earlier that day. Was this a fluke? Or had she busted her own hypothesis? She looked around the room.
The fading light of a summer evening came through the windows. New paint, check.
An empty coffee cup. New paint, check.
Milk and eggs. New paint, check. Isa thought she really ought to put those in the fridge, but the task would have to wait until her legs decided to cooperate.
An emery board. Hm. She checked the canvases by the window. That had come from her old paints.
A raincoat. This also came from her old paints.
French bread. New paints.
The vacuum cleaner. Old paints.
Her favorite fleece blanket. Old paints.
And, now, the TV screen, which had been painted using her old paints as well. Yet, all of these things had come to her at her request – well, following an artistic rendering. But every time she had sat on the couch and wished these things would just appear in front of her, nothing had happened. Her hypothesis had been wrong. Isa was missing something, and she was determined to find out what.
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