A Gift of Art Therapy

 

A Gift of Art Therapy

Jane Lane opened the door to find her best friend's annoying sister, Quinn there. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

 

"Um, I need to use your phone," Quinn answered.

 

"What's wrong with your phone?" Jane asked.

 

"Nothing. Can I spend the night?"

 

"Are you kidding?"

 

"My mother says I can't stay home alone," Quinn added.

 

" I won't say a word. I'll even spring for the keg, but you have to pay for the dry cleaning," Jane quipped.

 

"It's too last-minute to throw a party."

 

"Then just talk on the phone all night," Jane said. "Ask your friends, if they could be a nail polish, what color they would be and why."

 

"I'm sick of that game."

 

You're afraid to go home," Jane realised.

 

"I am not!"

 

"Sorry, no vacancies."

 

"All right, I'm afraid!" Quinn admitted "There's mass serial puppy killers and stuff. Come on. Please?"

 

"I'm going to regret this," Jane said as she let Quinn in. "Never mind, I already do."

 

 

Quinn looked around as Jane lead her to the stairs. The house looked a little messy. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see more of it. She then climbed up the stairs carefully, keeping her hand on the side rail.

 

 

Jane turned around and saw Quinn come up to the top of the stairs. "Why are your eyes closed?"

 

"I have decided I don't need to see the mess to have company," Quinn answered as she stepped into the hallway and turned towards Jane's voice.

 

"I guess so," Jane said, not sure what to make of Quinn's decision. She took her hand and lead her to her room.

 

 

Quinn sat on Jane's bed, her eyes still closed. She thought about the situation.

 

 

Jane listened to Quinn talk about what various people at school did as she painted.

 

 

Soon, Trent entered the room. "Hey, Janie. You got any money?"

 

A red haired girl about Janie's age jumped a little. He noticed that her eyes were closed. "Who are you?"

 

"Quinn."

 

"You know, Daria's sister," Jane said.

 

"Oh, yes, Daria's sister."

 

"Excuse me, I have a name."

 

"Oh yes, Daria's sister. Why are your eyes closed?"

 

"I didn't want to see the mess and now I'm thinking about stuff." Quinn answered.

 

"I see," Trent responded. "Like you were deep in thought?"

 

"Something like that," Quinn answered.

 

"I see," he said. He turned to Jane.

 

"I have some. Enough for three pizzas," Jane said.

 

"Can I have cheeseless?" Quinn asked.

 

"Of course," Jane answered. She gave Trent the money.

 

 

"We can do something while we wait," Quinn said after she heard Trent's footsteps get quieter outside the room.

 

"What."

 

"Can I paint like this?"

 

"If you want to," Jane said with a chuckle. "I'll set up the canvas."

 

 

It didn't take Jane long. "It's ready."

 

 

Quinn took the brush and dipped it in the space where Jane said was blue, and so she started painting.

 

Jane watched as Quinn painted. First she covered the canvas in a calm blue.

 

'What's next?' Quinn thought when she was sure she had covered the canvas in the calm blue. 'Some green,' she thought, remembering that Jane said the green was next to the blue. She then painted the green in the middle. She then thought about earlier, when Sandi had pushed her from her home. 'What color would be for that?' She thought for a moment before choosing red.

 

Jane watched as Quinn painted red stripes aggressively. She was clearly venting her frustration at something. "What is this?" she asked.

 

"Sandi threw me out," Quinn explained. "And so did Tiffany," she added as she painted another red stripe.

 

"That's not good," Jane responded.

 

"No it isn't," Quinn said turning towards Jane, her eyes still closed. "But painting has been... helpful."

 

"That it is," Jane said, in a supportive tone. "it certainly helps me after a stressful day."

 

 

Quinn turned back to the painting and thought about what happened with Stacy. That Stacy did something creepy, that made her anxious and fearful. "Orange," she said.

 

"Something else happened didn't it?" Jane asked.

 

"I left Stacy's after she started copying me and wanted me to color her hair the same as mine," Quinn responded as she started adding the orange to the canvas as spots.

 

"That's not right. I'm sorry that happened, at all. But on top of what else happened."

 

"Yeah. That's why I came here. I couldn't be alone," Quinn said as a tear escaped one of her closed eyelids and she continued adding the orange splotches.

 

 

After a short while, Quinn calmed down and added yellow stripes, contrasting with the angry red ones. "Yellow for here, calm."

 

After the yellow stripes, she added some purple swirls for flair.

 

 

"Done," Quinn said with a smile, eyes still closed, as she turned to Jane.

 

Jane looked at the finished painting. She saw the raw emotions that Quinn had poured out. "You've been through a lot," she commented. "But I see this has been good for you."

 

Quinn nodded.

 

 

Trent re-entered Jane's room. "Pizza's are here," he said. He saw that Quinn had painted something, although her eyes were still closed.

 

 

"Cool," Jane said. She turned to Quinn. "You want to look at the painting?"

 

"I'll open my eyes when I'm ready to," Quinn responded. "But for now, let's eat and talk," she added with a slight giggle. She extended her hand in Jane's direction.

 

“Sure,” Jane said. She slowly lead Quinn down to the kitchen.

 

 

Quinn smelled the pizza’s as soon as she got off the stairs and Jane was leading her to through the loungeroom. “They smell good.”

 

“They certainly do.”

 

 

“Here is the Cheeseless, Quinn,” Jane said as she pushed that pizza in front of the other girl where she was seated.

 

“Thanks, Jane,” Quinn said with a smile.

 

“So, do a lot of painting?” Trent asked.

 

“Not much,” Quinn admitted. “Mostly with Ms. Defoe.”

 

“Of course,” Jane said. “Go on.”

 

“But I mostly draw when I do art. I thought I was doing it for Fashion, but maybe it’s more that I like designing things,” Quinn added.

 

“That’s great, Quinn,” Jane said. “It seems that creativity is a Morgendorffer trait.”

 

“I know Daria writes, but I don’t know about Mom and Dad.”

 

“You never know,” Trent said. “They might be hiding it.”

 

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Quinn said with a giggle.

 

 

“So, where do you get your inspiration?” Quinn asked as she took another bite and savored the taste. It seemed that she was paying more attention to her tastebuds.

 

“There a lot of things that inspire my work,” Jane answered. “They’re too many to list. But some of them are what I read, what I see everyday in Lawndale, what Daria says and the absurdity of High School life.”

 

“That sounds interesting,” Quinn commented. “And you, Trent?”

 

“A lot things too,” Trent answered. “Emotions. Are lot of what I write for Mystik Spiral are about what I feel. Not only about myself and those around me, but also the world.”

 

“That sounds interesting,” Quinn said, as her closed eyelids twitched.

 

“But Spiral’s music is an acquired sound,” Jane said.

 

“What do you mean?” Quinn asked.

 

“We usually play grunge,” Trent answered.

 

“Oh. I haven’t heard much of that. I mostly like pop music, although some classical can be soothing.”

 

“I agree,” Trent said. “I know Spiral’s music isn’t for everybody.”

 

“That’s an understatement,” Jane said. Quinn knew she was leaning towards her from the sound of her voice.

 

She giggled. “I’d like to hear something though.”

 

“I can play something when we finish,” Trent suggested.

 

“Sure.”

 

 

They continued eating the pizzas and talking about inspirations and possibilities for Quinn’s designing. Her eyes still closed, Quinn helped clean up the boxes. Jane wondered when she would be ready to open them. ‘I shouldn’t worry.’

 

 

Trent got his guitar and played Icebox Woman.

 

“Was that an ex-girlfriend?” Quinn asked, when he had finished.

 

“More like, on again, off again girlfriend. We we’re off when I wrote it,” Trent answered. “You’re quite perceptive.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“It’s still quite early, what do you say to a B movie? It’s something Daria and I do, sometimes.”

 

“She has told us about it. You can describe it too me.”

 

“Cool.”

 

 

Jane didn’t press Quinn about her eyes. She guessed that Quinn was enjoying the mystery as well as thinking about things. Back up in her room, she put in a movie she and Daria had watched recently. They then watched it, with Jane explaining what was happening and Quinn commenting on the dialogue and music, as well as both of them eating popcorn that Trent had found.

 

 

“It was interesting, but now I’m beat,” Quinn said over the end credit music.

 

“Well, it is after ten,” Jane said. “I’ll get the guest room ready.”

 

“Sure,” Quinn said. She listened to Jane leave into the hallway. ‘Hours with eyes closed. I know it isn’t the mess. Is it just what the Fashion Club did? Or something else? I’m not sure.’ But she knew she would figure it out. But the time spent with Jane and Trent had been very helpful, on top of the painting.

 

 

Jane returned to her room to see Quinn walking to the door with her hands out. “It has been a good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“They will get back into Lawndale from Grove Hills about 8:30,” Quinn said.

 

“Then I’ll try to be up by 7:30. I’m not a morning person. Trent even less so.”

 

“That’s OK.”

 

“Here is the guest room, the pjs are on the bed.”

 

“Thanks, goodnight.”

 

 

Quinn closed the door behind her, got changed and slipped into the bed. “I wonder what tomorrow will bring?” she thought as she slipped off to sleep.