Repeat After Me

Chapter 4

Two days later, I sent Asten a message. 'Hi, it's Ivy ... I saw your message ...'

He texted straight back. 'Hi Ivy. I was hoping you'd see my message. Wanna come over to the studio? I'll keep my social distance.'

'Where is it?'

'Richmond.'

I could take a tram.

'Sure,' I said and got the address.

I told mum I was going for a walk. She was off to Bunnings to see if a delivery of seedlings had come in. I could possibly be gone for a couple of hours unnoticed.

The tram was almost empty. 'He's just a boy,' I reminded myself, trying to get rid of that flappy feeling.

When I arrived, he let me in to the studio under a big metal roller door.

'I'd give you a hug for coming all this way,' Asten said, 'but it'd be illegal.'

'Yeah,' I said. Industrial lights hung from the ceiling. I could see him properly for the first time and I regretted how attractive I found him. He had gravitational Asiatic eyes, tanned skin, a superhero chin and three-day stubble. He was wearing a black beanie, a dark grey hoodie with yellow paint around the sleeve, dark green cargo pants and black trainers. This was the zero point of attraction. From nothing, the creation of feeling was born.

'Um, sorry about the mess around here. None of us are tidy.' I took my eyes off him and looked around the space. The floor was concrete and splattered in paint. There were canvases and boards, half-painted, resting against the brick wall. 'That's Gee's work, he's an old school tagger,' Asten said. The works were painted in bright primary colours with letters I couldn't decipher.

'I'll show you what I'm working on.' Asten took me over to a table at the back of the studio and switched on an overhead light. He was creating a series of pasteups of people from different cultures, with the words 'Where do you come from?' in black paint written across their faces. 'My parents are from Taipai in Taiwan,' he said 'I was born here in Australia. I get asked fifty thousand times a week "where do you come from?" It's insensitive bullshit. We are all on stolen land.'

I felt quiet.

'Take a seat,' he said. 'I'll get you a drink. What's your poison?'

I had no poison.

'Vodka? Gin?'

'I don't know,' I said. 'Gin?' When the girls at school talked about their weekends, it was as if alcohol was the holy water of teenagedom.

'So I've been thinking, the boys and I are trying to get this Abandoned Spaces show up and running. You know, when the lockdown is over. It's an exhibition in an unused space. You should do a work there. Something big. Let your imagination go wild. It'll be the hugest wall you've ever painted on. You keen?' But before I could even respond, he started on something else, 'Like, you live with your mum and dad or something? How do you get out?'

'My dad works as a physio for the Geelong football club.'

'Get the hell out.'

'Nah.'

'You met any of them?'

'Yeah, we can meet them whenever. My brother Josh goes to the games all the time. Well, I mean, used to. Dad's been stood down until games start up again. Anyway, my mum and Josh usually go interstate with dad when they're playing interstate, so during winter they're away every second weekend. And Josh plays competition tennis in summer, so they're always travelling for that too. I took up the painting as a way of keeping myself occupied when they're away.'

'How come they don't take you?'

'I'm not into it,' I said. 'It's boring. All you see is the airport, hotel, football stadium and change rooms. I'm not into footy. I don't get it.'

'I'm not into it either. I prefer soccer. Also cancelled. I'm calling it Covoid. Nothing's happening. It's the best time for us though, hey? Like no one is on the streets. You can paint anywhere you like. I was out last night and it was bliss. I painted three big pieces in an area that's usually swarming with people. I couldn't have even hoped for a better situation.'

I took a sip of the gin and shifted my position on the couch.

'What's happening with school?'

'We're starting remote learning on Monday,' I said.

'It'll change education forever, this. It'll change everything,' he said. 'You okay? You're kind of quiet. Hope I'm not making you nervous or anything?'

'Nah,' I said, looking deeper into the glass I was holding, wondering what I was even doing there. He definitely wasn't keeping his distance on the couch, he was only a ruler length away.

'Your work is gutsy,' he said. 'I hadn't expected you to be like you are. Like you're different to your work. More sensitive.'

His words weren't keeping a distance either, they were caressing the corners of my heart.

He reached out and took my hand. 'Don't worry, I haven't been seeing many people,' he said. 'I'm not contagious.' His smile was a third degree burn to my emotional being. He stroked his thumb across my fingers. My heart felt like a foreign body stuck in my body. 'I'm glad I came across you painting the other night. It was a real thrill.' A drawstring of affection was being pulled tighter, my breath became lighter, my face became flushed.

Just then his phone beeped. He pulled it out of his pocket and read a message. He took a sip of his gin and placed the phone on the couch beside him.

'Where was I? Oh yeah, we did an Abandoned Spaces show in an old wedding reception venue last year. Over two hundred people came to the opening. It started at midnight. Everyone held candles and looked at the works in candlelight. There was a band playing music. You should've seen it. It was magical. Like nothin' you could even imagine. This year'll be even better. Escape's found an old tram factory that's gonna be destroyed. We think we'll have two weeks to paint this time. The show will be bigger and better than before. Your work will be awesome in there. You done anything big before?'

'Not really,' I said, casting my eyes down. I was limited by materials and what I could hide under my bed. I'd never been about making a big statement. It was the little treasures people discover that can be the most meaningful, like spotting a furry caterpillar on a skyscraper.

'How'd you get started, like?' he asked.

'I don't know. I was just walking in the city one day and I didn't have a piece of paper to draw on, but I was struck with an idea. And there was a wall. I drew on it in biro. And I liked it. I liked the way my drawing looked different on the wall. The cracked paint, peeling off the red bricks, gave my work texture, if you know what I mean. So then, I started carrying around a bottle of ink and a brush and painting little things when I felt like it.'

'What's your work about? What are you trying to say with it?'

I took a deep breath. I'd been revealed as a lightweight. I had no message. No agenda to push. 'I don't know really ... I just like the idea that I paint these little pictures and people see them. Or they don't see them. But they're there.' I paused, disclosure an untied shoelace. 'I'm not changing the world with my paintings, I'm changing one little wall. Maybe it's only temporary, it may only last a day or a week or a year. But for a little while I've made my mark there. I can't explain myself. It's just this thing I do.'

His phone beeped again. I looked at the time on my own phone. It would take at least half an hour to get home. It would be hard to explain why I'd taken such a long walk, when there wasn't anywhere we were actually allowed to go these days.

'I have to go,' I said.

'How'd you get here?'

'By tram.'

'I'll walk you to the tram stop,' he said.

'Nah, that's okay.' I stood up, pulling my cardigan around me. 'Thanks for the drink and all.'

'I'll message you,' he said as I was ducking under the roller door.