The One Who Stole the Sky

Watercolor Rabbit

Today, Max entered Charlie's studio with a confidence he never possessed before. He took longer strides, firmly planting his feet wherever he walked all while wearing a semipermanent scowl. He directed himself into her studio. There, he found her brainstorming her ideas onto papers scattered about the room. A creak in the dry, wooden floor alerted Charlie that her partner, 'master' if you will, was present and on time.

"Good morning." She greeted Max with a melting smile to provide him comfort in this new environment.

"Yes, Hello." Max was busy himself at the coat hook near the doorway. He stripped off his jacket and nestled his umbrella into the holder on the floor.

"So, Max, I was thinking of a black and white Mussolini print-"

"Stop. Charlie, stop." Abruptly, Charlie brought her large eyes up from the print she was focused on and stared at Max, waiting for an explanation. He made a slashing motion in the air; small droplets of rainwater leaped across the room and to the floor from the tips of his fingers (The doorknob to her studio outside was wet, and in the moment it took him to open the door, the lower half of his arm had been soaked in the torrential rain).

"I need to talk to you about your subject." They stared at each other wide-eyed, pupils zooming in and out, the whites expanding, bulging with anticipation.

"Go on." Charlie stood straight up, cleared her voice with an air of arrogance, in which she used to hold back anger.

"I don't think your subject matter is safe. There are anarchists that could take you and me and everything from us. I know what it's like to be stripped of an identity and of humanity. I know how it feels to be seen as an animal. My people died like sinners, and I'm not ready to follow their fate. For the safety of us, we must do something else. Anything else, please." Calm and concise, Max finished what needed to be said, and only waited for what Charlie had to say in return. He watched her. She rolled her eyes, pursed her lips, picked at the dry paint on the table, and fixed her glasses before reaching a decisions.

"Alright. I will think of something else." She slid the clippings away into the garbage can, signaling that she was certain of her choice. Blankly, Max stared at her. All it took was that to satisfy her? Just a simple lecture? All the while Max had been planning backup approaches in case she dismissed his warning, but obviously he could now let those thoughts crumble away.

"Are you that sure? There was no hesitation and you were so driven with your theme." Max froze at the other side of the table, his fiery brown eyes concerned, searched in the ones staring back for uncertainty.

"I understand you are uncomfortable with the idea. This is supposed to be our piece, not mine. We will think of something else, I'm sure of it." Charlie lowered the trash can back to the floor, now full of angry history.

"That is a relief. Thank you for taking into consideration my thoughts." Max warmly smiled to his apprentice, who now sprawled out a new canvas.

"Have you any thoughts?" Gingerly, Max laid his hand on the edge of the canvas, feeling it's rigid smoothness and becoming lost in the possibilities that could fill its space.

"I was thinking of a nature scene, perhaps a garden in the morning. An old, wooden garden in the rural lands of sometime different then now." Immediately lost in thought, Charlie pointed to areas on the plain white surface and described shapes with her hands.

"That could do. I assume you like to draw nature then?" Max cocked his bent head in Charlie's direction, hoping she had experience with such topics.

"Yes, very much. I think I'll put a rabbit in there too, very secretively, behind the radishes. The Tale of Peter Rabbit was my favorite book when I was little, and I think that may give me more motivation to select this route. What do you think?" Hands on her hips, Charlie looked up to Max with hopeful eyes. He looked down at the canvas.

"And what is this? Mr. McGregor's farm reimagined?" Max toyed as he motioned to the entirety of the painting. Charlie laughed timidly with a hand held to her mouth.

"What made you go from Communism to children's books?" Charlie began to faintly map out the landscape, the house, and the vegetables- oh, and the rabbit too.

"I just thought about the opposite of Communism: happiness. Happiness took me to my childhood where my mother would read me stories near the fireplace out in the countryside. That's where I grew up, around Emsland in fact." Her lines were large, as they had to be appropriately proportioned with the workspace.

"I feel as though this could be a warming, endearing piece, which is what we all need these days. What medium do you think you will choose?" Max observed over her shoulder, watching his student sloppily compile lines together to form lumpy shapes. Thank God she is not a drawer.

"Watercolor. It's soft, pastel, and playful, like happiness." Charlie itched her eyebrow and took a step back from the gray scribbles that encompassed her life for a decent amount of time.

"What about you, Max? Is there anything that makes you happy during these bleak times?" Charlie leaned over the table dramatically. She was now trying too hard. Max didn't have to think. An instinct, a sudden perfunctory revelation made him think of one word and one word only: Liesel.

"Liesel." Max blurts, expecting Charlie to understand and know exactly who he is talking about. She shoots him a confused look, which prompts him to elaborate on just who she was.

"Liesel makes me happy, she is my happiness. She moved in with me about two years ago, and ever since I have been changed for the better. She fixed me. She did so once before, during the war. Her family hid me, and that is how I became her closest. . .friend." Max hesitated towards the end. Just exactly who was he to her? Boyfriend, lover, companion, friend, brother, father-figure?

"So who is she to you? Is she your girlfriend?" Charlie played with her blonde hair, tossing it this way and that way. She even plastered a worried face over her own, which gave her large, sparkling eyes.

"No. Yes. I-I don't know, we never attacked that question directly. Our lives always naturally blended together since we were first introduced to one another. She made my life like that, she made it bleed into one chunk of timelessness. So, I don't know who she is to me." Charlie bent over the table more. One hand was held to her mouth where she placed her pointer finger against the side of her lip, as if she were biting a nail. The other twirled a watercolor pencil in a fluid motion.

"Hmmm." She answered to him. Slightly less interested now, she turned away from Max and took up her ordinary lead pencil. For now, Max thought up color schemes for the painting portion, and helped Charlie draw some smaller things, like the leaves on the vegetation. Max did not want to intrude on her vision, so for now, he merely drew a few clouds and consulted the color wheel for guidance. There was a long silence. Max wondered if it was because his student was concentrating or if it was her childish response to him potentially being in a relationship.

The storm outside shook the ground while drawing whitish-blue streaks across the sky. They hung there for only a blink of an eye before disappearing.

"What do you suppose you'll title the painting?" Breaking the somewhat easy silence,  Charlie looked up for the first time in awhile.

"I don't know yet. I'll have to see it done first." Charlie nodded as she spoke. The side of her hand turned completely gray from resting over the pencil markings.

"Here, take this scrap of paper and place it under your hand. That way you won't smear the lead and it won't get on you." Max took one of the hundreds of newspapers floating around the room and pawned it over to Charlie.

"Thank you." Charlie situated the paper under her hand where Mao Zedong could be seen next to her wrist. He stared up with a flat, emotionless face. She paid no mind to the image and continued to work.

"I must be going now." Max glanced at his watch then the one on the wall.

"Oh, alright. I will see you out." Charlie followed behind Max who was putting on his rain jacket as he descended down the stairs. He had his umbrella tucked under his chin on the way down, but now removed it and sprung it to life once the door had been opened.

"See you next time." Charlie waved lovingly to him. He smiled back and gave a quick nod.