Cotton Candy, Croissants and France

May 19, 2014.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve written in this thing, huh? Not since seventh grade, wow. I must have been consistent back then! I guess it’s only reasonable I give an update to you. I’ll be going to college in September. I applied last week and I got accepted. It’s really nothing special, just a community college. I also applied for Ecole Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. I didn’t tell Max yet. I know he would never approve of me leaving California for my passion. Mom would though, after all, she had been a prestigious student of that school. The staff there were looking forward to meeting me because of Mom. I wonder if Max supports my passion for art at all. Aren’t boyfriends supposed to support your hobbies? Still, I hope I get in. If I do, the two things I love will be combined! I’d be under the cotton-candy coloured skies, eating a croissant while sketching the Eiffel Tower. Kind of like what I do at home, just this time, instead of using a reference, I’ll get to see the actual Eiffel Tower!

Anyways, Mom said I could go for my very first tarot card reading when I was eighteen, which will be tomorrow. I wonder why eighteen. Maybe because I’ll be an adult by then? I’ll never know, Mom always keeps her secrets well. Growing up, Mom always believed in fortune-telling and astrology, that much she didn’t keep a secret. I think she mentioned once she was trying to align her pregnancy with a Taurus horoscope for me. Probably because a Taurus was a more subtle sign. She always said she wanted a quiet, independent child. For whatever reason? I have no idea. As I said, she keeps her secrets well. She wasn’t exactly thrilled when she met Max, I guess that’s as big of a lead as I’ll ever get. Anyways, aligning her pregnancy kind of worked? I was born on the cusp of Taurus-Gemini. I still think of myself as more of a Taurus though, Geminis are so outgoing and extroverted. 

May 20, 2014.

 I woke up early this morning, around six. I didn’t see Max anywhere, which was strange. Out of the two of us, he usually slept in. I assumed he was getting his plans for my birthday in order, which I was very wrong about. He had come home drunk, collapsing in the doorway of our tiny apartment. His breath reeked of vodka. So much for a birthday plan. His pockets though, were full of money. That’s probably the only good thing that happened today since we needed more money desperately. 

 The tarot card reading wasn’t much better than Max coming home drunk. Madame Dorothea was a petite woman, with long white hair. She was very old and had wrinkles framing her face. To be honest, when I first entered her condo, she gave me chills. Her apartment was just a bit bigger than ours and decorated with shelves of books of the languages Latin and Greek, posters around every bare wall and in the middle of it all was a table, with a crystal ball. I thought only movies had crystal balls. Anyways, she snapped me out of it and told me if I wanted a crystal ball reading, I’d have to pay more. 

  The card I chose was called the Ten of Swords. It was a gruesome card. A man was lying on the floor, with his back facing the sky. In his back, were ten swords, impaling him. It definitely wasn’t a card of choice. Madame Dorothea had confirmed my suspicions. This was a card of betrayal. Thinking back on it, this tarot card reading wasn’t worth the hard-earned fifty dollars. Who could possibly betray me? I only let in a few people to my life. Specifically, two. Mom and Max, who both loved me dearly.

May 26, 2014.

 Maybe the hard-earned fifty dollars were worth it after all. I mean, I got my hopes up for nothing. I suppose that’s close enough to betrayal.

Ecole Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts rejected my application. So much for wanting to meet the daughter of Esther Beaumont. I’ll be stuck in California for now. Eating croissants under the cotton-candy coloured sky in front of the Eiffel Tower will remain a fantasy. I think I’m going to go back to sleep, clear my mind a bit, maybe dream of getting an acceptance letter.

May 27, 2014.

 I finished painting the Eiffel Tower, using references. Some strokes are uneven and some are thicker than others. I really just wanted to get that done. Honestly, it looks depressing, but that’s alright. It matches my mood. The skies of my painting used to be like the cotton-candy ones I dreamed of, but I changed them to look more grey and crestfallen. I’m still thinking of a spot to put this painting. Maybe Mom will want it. Anyways, it’s late. I should go to bed if I want to wake up tomorrow.

May 28, 2014.

 Max isn’t home. I think he might have told me he was going to spend today with his friends while I was painting yesterday. I really don’t remember. He left pretty early though. When I woke up, I couldn’t find my painting, which was a shame. I didn’t even sign it off yesterday, I was still waiting for the acrylic paint to dry up. I’ll ask Max if he’d seen it. Maybe I should invest my time doing home DIYs. Regardless, I think I’ll take a break from painting for now.

You won’t believe what I found on Instagram! My painting. Well, kind of my painting? There’s a signature, just not mine. I am definitely not mistaken. The uneven brush strokes were certainly mine. Max was the only one who came to the apartment since yesterday, I’m sure of it. I’ll ask him about it tonight.

 Max admitted to selling my paintings. I’m not mad since he did it for a good cause. He saw how I drew the Eiffel Tower, Cathédrale Notre-Dame, Palace of Versailles, and wanted to take me to Paris to see it all in real life. Tell me, how could I possibly be mad at him for doing that? He said he’s really close to buying tickets for us and maybe we’ll get to go by summer!

May 29, 2014.

 Okay, maybe I am mad at Max. Last night, I woke up to a soft murmur, which of course, belonged to Max. He was on the phone and he went to the living room. Of course, the apartment isn’t that big and the walls are paper-thin, so I could still hear him. He probably left the room so he wouldn’t wake me and risk having me hear his conversation. He should know how easily audible he was inside the apartment. He said something about almost reaching enough money to buy a designer bag for his ex. Maybe this was the betrayal Madame Dorothea was talking about. Anyways, I plan on confronting him tomorrow, when I have enough energy to put up a fight.

May 30, 2014.

I didn’t even have to wait until today to confront him. Max didn’t bother lying. All he told me was he thought I was asleep. Then he started packing up his things. He was gone in thirty minutes, not a penny of the money he made selling my paintings left for me. He didn’t even apologize. May couldn’t get any worse.

I think I realized why Mom told me I should get my first tarot card reading at eighteen. If I had drawn the ten of swords at any age under eighteen and had something similar happen to me, I would have died inside. Heck, I'm barely handling this burden at eighteen. Mom probably would have thought I’d be mature enough to handle such a burden. Well, Mom, you were very, very wrong.

I think I’ll stop writing in this for now. Seventh grade me was smart to not waste her time on this journal. I’ll work on getting my life back into shape. It honestly feels like a thousand-piece puzzle right now.

May 17, 2015.

 I just thought I’d tell you I’m applying for Ecole Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts again. My art took a bit more of a depressing toll. I think that the Eiffel Tower painting I did a year ago was the start of my new style. Maybe the school will like it better and accept me. I’m not sure.

 Mom’s also been feeling a little under the weather lately. I’m worried for her sake.

May 21, 2015.

 I was declined again. I’ll keep trying until I get in, for mom. Just know that every year, I’ll continue trying. I’ll write in this once something big happens. Hopefully that something big is my acceptance letter.

August 1, 2018.

  I’ll keep this one short. Mom died. It was so sudden. In the afternoon, I got a call from the hospital telling me Mom was in a better place. She was still so young. I have no one left. Dad’s who knows where, Mom’s gone and Max is probably begging his ex to see him once more.

May 20, 2019.

  Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me... It’s been five years since my first tarot card reading. I think I’ll go again. Mom would have if she were in my shoes. She would have wanted to have a warning of the next bad thing that would happen to her. Mom was brave, I’ll try to be more like Mom.

 I went to Madame Dorothea’s again. The place hadn’t changed one bit. At least something was still familiar. She asked if I was there because I finally got enough money for a crystal ball reading, but I barely had enough money for a tarot card reading, so I shook my head. There was one card, I was very, very attracted to. The ace of cups. It already sounded painfully terrible to me. Madame Dorothea assured me it was good. She said I might receive a gift from someone and opportunities were coming. That seemed highly unlikely.

May 27, 2019.

 Madame Dorothea was right about one thing. I had gotten a gift from someone. In France, Darren, my mother’s executor had said Mom wanted me to take her journal and read through every last page of it. I wonder why Mom had chosen Darren as her executor. I know he’s the son of Mom’s best friend, but I could have been the executor. I was after all, above eighteen. Then Darren told me something else. There was a catch. I had to make it into Ecole Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. All good things come with a cost.

May 29, 2019.

  YOU WON’T BELIEVE IT! I haven’t felt this happy in years. Years. I made it into Ecole Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts! The exact same one Mom went to years ago! I’ll be leaving for France soon! I might sit in front of the Eiffel Tower, under the cotton-candy skies while eating a croissant for real this time!

July 3, 2019.

 I made it to France safely. I met Darren. He was a few years older than me and shockingly handsome. He had hazel hair and pale green eyes, which were paler when he took his glasses off. He handed me Mom’s journal and asked if I wanted to hit the cafe around the corner. My first French Cafe. With Darren. Ironically, the sky was painted in a mixture of pinks and blues. Like cotton candy.