Paintbrushes and Fire Extinguishers

TW: Alcoholism and Death Mention

The colors were chosen carefully. All of them. The flowers in their silver vase were shades of pastel pink. The table they sat on was an off-white and chipped at the corners. The glass jars before them were filled with these colors and a few extra for interpretation.

The room was filled with natural light thanks to floor to ceiling windows. The floors were covered in white sheets that had decades old paint splattered across it. Easels and canvases found a permanent home in the corners, while two closets were stocked full of all colors imaginable, smelling like paint and old wood.

One day, famous works would be made in that room, but not today, and not by the two girls painting. From afar, one of their paintings looked as if a child had taken their fingers to the canvas, and the other was still completely blank.

When Alex had inherited her grandmother’s winter home, it had come with this small cottage on the very edge of the property. Elleanor had moved in with Alex shortly after, vowing to split the bills with her. Alex had welcomed her best friend of five years. It was perfect for the two college students working on their master’s degrees.

Alex looked over at Elleanor. She held a clean brush in one hand and a half empty glass in the other.

It had been three months since Elleanor’s mother died. Three months since Elleanor had completely cut herself off from the rest of the world and had tried to excommunicate herself from her best friend. Too bad for her, Alex was in it for the long haul.

Alex had known that drinking had long been a problem for Elleanor’s family. It had been the same brown liquid in Elleanor’s cup that sent her father to the grave before she was even born. Alex had cut her friend an enormous amount of slack, but now being there for her felt more like enablement. Elleanor would open a new bottle almost every morning, and at night she would cry herself to sleep or scream until she passed out. Alex had to move to the other end of the mansion to keep her sanity; she knew in those moments Elleanor wouldn’t want Alex’s help. She had proved it on multiple occasions by throwing antique lamps at anyone who would open the door.

Both women had permanent dark shadows beneath their eyes and matching bloodshot gazes.

Alex didn’t know what to do anymore. Their other friends used to ask questions about her well-being, but Alex’s shrugs had finally gotten old, and they didn’t come by anymore. After a week of dropping hints and threatening to throw Elleanor out on the street, Alex had gotten her to agree to get out.

Alex dropped her brush into the dirty water. Her picture wasn’t going to get any better, but she liked it. The colors made her happy. That’s why she picked them.

Elleanor’s canvas remained blank.

“Are you going to start?” Alex asked.

Elleanor shrugged. “What’s the point?”

Alex rubbed her face with both hands and pushed them up through her hairline. Progress, she had thought. Now, with only a blank canvas to show for it, she wasn’t sure.

Alex had no idea how long it took someone to start feeling better after the immediate grief of death. She hadn’t ever lost someone close to her. Alex knew Elleanor blamed herself, but she had to start functioning again, if even a little at a time. An hour out of her room was better than none, half a sandwich instead of a whole, one cup of tea in place of a cup of alcohol, but Elleanor had no plans to change-she didn’t want to get better.

Alex picked up her brush and strode over to Elleanor’s painting. She quickly dipped it in bright yellow.

“What are you doing?” Elleanor turned to her. Alex swiped it fast and hard across the canvas. Straight through the middle. “Alex!”

“What? You weren’t going to do anything.”

Elleanor huffed. She threw her brush into the clear water in a flippant movement “Fine, I’m done.” She raised the glass in her other hand to her mouth.

A wild idea bolted through Alex’s body. Before Elleanor could take a sip, Alex snapped her hand out and hit the glass. It landed on the ground with a ‘clink’ but didn’t break. The white sheet started to turn brown.

Elleanor stood with her mouth open toward the ground. “How dare you,” she said slowly.

Yikes, too late to turn back now. Alex scooped a handful of dark blue paint and smeared it down the front of Elleanor’s white shirt. Elleanor gasped and pulled out a whole jar of grey paint, hurling it across Alex’s matching outfit.

“Why did you do that?” Elleanor yelled.

Alex reached for the water glass. “Because I’m tired of seeing you drunk.” She tipped the glass over her friend’s head.

“How dare you.” Elleanor pushed pink paint into Alex’s face. Alex didn’t stop her. “I need it!”

“No you don’t,” They were flinging any paint they could get their hands on at this point. Alex couldn’t tell which color she put down and which one was being thrown.

“Yes, I do!” Elleanor screamed. Alex backed up to her easel and grabbed her dirty water.

“Why? Why do you need it so bad?” All the exhaustion that she had felt drained into anger, frustration, and the need to get her hands on more paint.

“Because.” Elleanor threw a jar of pink at Alex’s head. Alex dodged. She might’ve wanted to think this through. “It makes the pain go away.” They were completely covered in colour, sticky and wet.

Alex ducked behind the easel and her hands grasped the silver vase. She spun on her heel, and water exploded from the top with the flowers helplessly following. Elleanor’s face disappeared behind the waterfall. Some of the flowers stuck to Elleanor’s hair and clothes, but most fell to the ground.

“But it doesn't, Elleanor, it doesn't,” Alex pleaded. Elleanor stood completely still. Water dripped from her body, running with the paint. “It’s just making the pain different.” Alex’s voice was soft. “I just want you to look back a few years from now knowing you made your mom proud.”

The only sounds were from paint dripping to the floor and birds outside the windows. She didn’t know how that would be received. She had been wanting to say it for weeks, and it felt good to get it off her chest.

Alex didn’t expect her to be completely better for months. She just wanted her to try, because two steps forward and one step back, is still better than standing still.

“I’m leaving,” Elleanor slurred.

“What?”

“I’m leaving!” Elleanor stormed out the door and let it slam behind her.

Alex didn’t move. Low crying came from behind the door. It drifted out of earshot minutes later. Alex didn’t move. What had she done? Did she push too far? Alex pondered what had happened as she spent the next few hours cleaning.

S

he didn’t know what to expect when she got home. What she didn’t expect was a bonfire in her backyard that consisted of flames taller than herself and broken glass covering the burning wood. Elleanor stood a respectable distance from it. On one side she had accumulated every bottle in the house, a stack of wood, and three fire extinguishers.

Alex slowly approached her and stopped on her other side. “How’s it going?” The heat from the fire made it feel like it was a day in July instead of early November.

“Scotch is a great fire starter.”

Alex nodded. “I think I’ve heard that.”

Elleanor took a long drink of water before going back to silently watching the flames with her friend, the flames dancing golden brown and red in her eyes.