Picture Imperfect

Jordan was one of the most successful young artists of her time. She’d always been an artist. Always making random pieces to express herself. Whether they were paintings or sculptures, or collages. Her art teacher in high school had said that she’d never make it. Her friends said that her portraits were ugly and her sculptures misshapen. Her mother said her art was good. But she’d also said her brother’s soccer skills were good, and he lost every game. But none of it kept Jordan down. She didn’t care what they thought.

But here, where the story begins, Jordan hadn’t had much luck with success.

***

At the coffee shop where I work, the owner—who I'm friends with— let me hang one of my paintings on the wall. Meg (The owner) has a thing for collecting things people think are ugly and decorating the shop with them.

One day an older woman wearing a pant suit and a frown comes into the shop and orders a latte.

“Did you want your latte hot or iced miss?”

The woman looks in the other direction seemingly distracted, before she answers. “Iced.”

She wanders off, while I pour the espresso into her cup. As I add the air to the milk, I try to see what the woman is looking at, but can’t tell.

The woman comes back a few minutes later, the frown lost from her face.

“Here’s your drink.” I say, as I pop the top on her cup. “Have a lovely day.”

“Miss?” I hear the woman say, as I go over to wipe down the counter.

I turn around. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Who made that painting?” The woman points to my painting of my dog Alfie.

“I did.”

The woman’s eyes widen. “You?”

I nod.

“What’s your name?”

“Jordan Neilson.”

“I’m Mrs. Collins and I’m the lead curator at the Christian Burris Museum of the arts. And I need that painting in my museum.”

***

ONE YEAR LATER…

Jordan’s success the past year had shocked her. The museum was so pleased with her art exhibit that they never took her painting off the wall. The art exhibit had such an overwhelming response, that Jordan’s art Instagram posts went viral and many wealthy people wanted Jordan to paint customized paintings for them.

***

I pet Alfie—my golden retriever—and the most famous boy in Milburn Wisconsin.

I think he can sense my nervousness about the date.

“Come on now Jordan, you’re gonna be late!” My brother says from the kitchen table.

“I don’t know, Luke. What if this guy turns out like the last one?”

“Oh, he won’t. How many weirdos go on dates with girls just so they can say they dated a celebrity? I mean you’re not even famous. Most people don’t even connect you to the paintings in their heads.”

“You’re right. I’m just being crazy.” I bend over and slowly tie my converse. Alfie deciding to rest his chin on my shoes and slowing the process even further.

“JORDAN.” Luke says.

“What?”

“You’re stalling.”

***

I walk up to the museum, a hot cup of tea in my hand. (An attempt to calm my nerves?)

The afternoon sun is hot and my feet are a bit too warm in my converse. Not the perfect decision for this summer weather. But at least my knee length, dress is breezy. And cute. The perfect shade of olive to go with my pink lip gloss.

And on top of everything this guy insisted on going to THIS museum for our date.

I spot Aiden in the sculpture area of the museum, peering curiously at an exhibit of a young child holding a flower.

“Hi.” Is all I manage to say.

He’s kinda cute, pretty cute actually. Which makes my hands shake even more. And I take another sip of my tea.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here.” He winks at me and I just stand there.

Was that like a pick-up line, on a date? What am I supposed to say? “Haha yeahhh…”

Aiden pushes his swoosh of dark brown hair out of his eyes. “So what do you like to do for fun? Like do you have any hobbies?”

Ummm…. I don’t know why I don’t wanna let anyone find out about my paintings and success. I guess it was that one guy who makes me paranoid still.

“I like dogs.” I blurt.

Aiden’s dark eyes widen. “Cool! Me tooooo. I don’t have one though. My roommate is allergic.”

“That sucks.” I say.

“It’s ok,” Aiden stops at a canvas that looks like it’s torn back, revealing a road leading into the wilderness. “This one’s cool.”

“So what else do you like to do?” He asks a minute later.

“Draw. And paint. And sculpt. Pretty much all art. Cause I like literature and music. And dance as well.” I ramble.

“Oh wow that’s awesome. I wish I had time for all that.”

I laugh. “Oh I don’t have time for all that either. That’s why I’m such a mess.”

Aiden chuckles. “Hey, same here. Between college and…life. I’ve been stretched pretty thin.”

“What’re you going for?”

“Well technically it’s a trade school, but yeah I’ve been taking culinary classes. I’m gonna be a Chef.”

We walk down a hallway laced with canvases spewing different colors in the theme.

“Wow, Jordan look at this one!” He says, pointing to a large canvas with a familiar smiling dog peering out at us.

Shoot. It’s my painting.

“It’s so unique and it really looks like the artist just doesn’t care about anyone’s opinions. The edges are so bold and imperfect, man…”

“Oh yeahhhh. That one...” I mutter.

“Who’s the artist?” Aiden leans towards the little plaque with my name on it and I take a step in front of him.

“Hey, are you alright, Jordan?” Aiden asks. “You look a little red.”

“I’m fine.” I say, and back up too much.

My elbow hits the corner of my canvas which bumps it off the wall.

The sequences that follow are unfortunate.

One: I drop my tea.

And two: My painting falls on top of me ripping around my head, completely destroying it.

“Fudgesicles!” I exclaim.

“Shoot, are you alright?!” Aiden gasps, pulling the canvas off me.

Then he finally sees the plaque. “Jordan Neilson?”

I can feel my face flush. Great. I made a giant fool of myself, broke my own valuable art, and he still found out.

“I have to leave.” I state.

“Um, ok.” Lines form on his forehead. He looks hurt, and confused. “I’ll see you around I guess.”

***

I’m sitting at my desk in my room, which serves as my art studio. Staring blankly at an empty canvas.

So I ruined my date, my painting and who knows what else. But I have to fix it. At least painting wise. The museum is having some kind of event in two weeks. Mrs. Collins said that it’s a very big deal, and that mostly, everyone was coming to see my painting. But she said that I can just paint a new one.

So that's exactly what I'm gonna do. I'll just paint another picture of Alfie and everything will be fixed.

***

“What?!” I’m hysterical.

Luke is tapping his foot (his nervous tic) as he tells me.

“How did this even happen Luke?” I wipe away a tear. “Is he ok?”

Luke looks down. “I don’t know. It seemed like the car only hit him a little.”

I run out to the porch and see Alfie laying on his side. “Oh Alfie! It’s going to be okay.”

***

My parents said Alfie has an injured hip, but they don’t have the money for the vet bills. And Luke certainly doesn’t. At fourteen he’s not even old enough to get a real job. The unfortunate thing is, it would cost about five thousand dollars to pay for his surgery. And I only got five hundred dollars in artist fees from the museum. I have to whip up some money somehow. And very quickly.

***

Meg at the coffee shop gives me as many hours as she can, but by the end of the week I realize it’s still not enough.

Suddenly I remember all the hundreds of offers I got from people who wanted me to paint portraits of their pets. I didn’t have enough time to paint them all. But I decided to message them back anyway.

Before no time I have hundreds of pictures of dogs saved to my gallery in my phone.

I run to Walmart and buy some more canvases and paint.

When I get to the checkout the cashier has a surprised look on her face.

“You’re going to buy all of these? You know it’s going to add up to be one hundred and fifty dollars.”

I pull out five different Walmart gift cards that I have gotten from extended family for Christmas and birthdays. And the cashier sighs.

That night I stay up all night painting. I run into some trouble around three am, when I’m painting a parakeet. The reference is a cute lil green bird in a cage. But I repaint the face three times. And every time it ends up looking like a raven’s face.

On my fifth attempt I crumple up my paper coffee cup and throw it at the wall.

“Why do you have to be such a screw up Jordan? You have to do this for Alfie.” I mutter to myself, starting to feel my last screw come loose.

“Jordan, you need to go to sleep honey.”

I jump at the sound of a voice. It’s my mum.

“I can’t. I have to finish this painting so I can make the money for Alfie.”

“It’s not gonna do you any good killing yourself over this. And me and your father actually found some savings that we forgot about for your college that you never used. It’s around a thousand.”

My eyes widen. With that, what I have already, and what I’ll make selling just a few more paintings this will actually be enough!

I hug my mum. “Thank you.”

I call the vet right away and confirm to start surgery. I make the first payment.

***

In the morning I grab a banana and a monster drink. (A very balanced breakfast. I know.)

I look that parakeet in the face. Today I’ll finish it properly.

I start out by adding flowers around the bird instead of a cage and then I focus in on the face. This time (my sixth attempt) it actually looks good.

Right as I set my brush in the rinse water my alarm goes off and I hurry to get ready for work. I can’t believe that the weekend is over already! I’m not gonna have as much time for painting as I thought.

“Wow, look what the cat dragged in.” Meg says from atop a chair as she’s screwing in a light bulb.

“Shut up Meg. I haven’t slept.” I say.

“You don’t have to tell me, hon. The bags under your eyes already have.”

Meg hops off the chair and get’s me a coffee. “Drink this and brush your hair before you clock in. I can’t have you scaring the customers.”

After I come out of the bathroom and walk up to the front counter I see a giant poster and a jar full of money.

“Meg, what’s this?”

“Well right before last weekend your mother came in here and told me everything that happened. So I put up this little poster so that people could donate if they wanted.”

“Wow.” I say.

Meg grabs the jar and counts the paper bills along with coins. “One sixty seven. Not too bad, but I think the one I posted online had a bit more success.” Meg pulls out her phone. “Oh yes this one has seven thousand twenty one. I should be like a professional fund raiser or something.”

She winks at me. The wrinkles by her eyes more and more obvious every day.

“Oh my god! Thank you so much!” I give Meg a big hug and she squirms uncomfortably.

“Ok, ok. Now get to work. We have a line.”

***

When Alfie gets back from the vet, he has a giant bandage on his lower half and he looks tired.

My dad struggles to carry him, but manages to carefully set him on his bed. Since we had so much money with everything total. We could afford to get Alfie a very large, fluffy dog bed that would be good for him to rest on while he heals.

I give Alfie a giant hug and a kiss on his head. “You’re a good boy.”

***

I bust out my big canvas and start painting. Every brush stroke is easy, and the colors are bold. I know this subject so well. Big brown eyes. Long golden fur. Big happy doggy smile on a slightly greying snout. Long fanning tail.

But this painting is different. Alfie is still wearing his goofy lil smile, but he’s also wearing a bandage.

And there’s an air of sadness and almost loss weaved into every layer, every shadow of the painting. But also maybe more hope shining in his eyes.

The other painting of Alfie that’s broken now was different. It was happy, but not as deep. The flowers were a little too yellow and the warm glow of the sun, just was a little more like a dream. Almost like a half story. Because without the sad, the happy is just a little less.

So I go ahead and add the finishing touches, even though the museum had emailed me saying that I had missed my chance to finish my painting. This painting wasn’t for the museum. Or anyone else. This painting is just for me and Alfie.

I pat Alfie on the head. I hope I captured the softness of his fur in my painting.

SIX MONTHS LATER..

I shove my hand deeper in my pocket to avoid the sharp winter air, as the snow crunches under mine and Alfie’s feet.

Alfie leads me down a trail that we don’t usually walk at this park. “Are you looking for squirrels silly boy?”

Alfie doesn’t respond. Probably cause he’s a dog.

I chuckle.

“Hey.” Someone says.

It’s a guy further up the trail who is walking a little Chihuahua. “Jordan is that you?”

Alfie pulls me over to him, and immediately starts smelling the little dog’s butt.

“Hey. How did you even recognize me?” I ask, surprised that Aiden even remembers me after our one bad date.

I take a good look at him for a minute. The cold making his cheeks a very attractive rosy color. And his dark hair cut a bit shorter now, which really highlights the sharpness of his cheek bones. Talk about something good to paint.

Aiden smiles. “To be honest I recognized Alfie first. Your dog—and paintings of him—are literally all over this town and the internet. You know, I tried to forget about that weird little artist girl who really, really didn’t want a second date, but you’re fame made it pretty hard.”

My eyes widen. “Really? But I did want to go on a second date with you’.”

“I just figured since you ran out on the first one and never responded to my message asking if you wanted to go out again.” Aiden rubs his hands together in an attempt to warm them.

“You never sent a message?” I say, confused. And I show him our text conversation.

Aiden scrunches up his eyebrows.

“Yeah I did.” Aiden pulls out his phone to show me, but mutters. “Shoot! It says ‘no service, switch to SMS.”

I laugh. “Stupid technology.”

“Right. I mean if it won’t send on MMS then of course I want to switch it to SMS or whatever. That stuff should be automatic!”

“Well, maybe we could get coffee or something sometime.” I smile to myself. “I actually know this really good coffee shop.”

“For sure. I love coffee.”

“Oh and hey, when did you get a dog?”

“Funny story actually. My roommate moved in with his girlfriend and my new roommate has a dog. He lets me walk her all the time. I really found out what I was missing this whole time.”

“That’s great,” I say. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“I’ll look forward too it.” Aiden waves goodbye as he walks off, but his dog won’t move from Alfie’s side. “Come on Candy we gotta go!”

As me and Alfie walk towards home, I notice how good his golden fur looks against the icy backdrop.

“So Alfie, I’m thinking for my next painting you should be in the snow. What do you think?”

Alfie doesn’t say anything, he just looks at me with his big round puppy dog eyes. He’s probably wanting me to give him some kibble.

Edited and Co-written by Kelly S.