When She Was by K.K. Quinn

When she was six, Alice received a paintbrush from her grandmother. It was beautiful. A dark brown handle, little swirls etched along it, and bristles the color of rainbows. Her grandmother told her it was very special, though Alice had no idea what that meant then. She just wanted to paint, never before overcome by such an urge in her short life.

She ran down the hallway to her small room, plopped down in front of the first blank piece of paper she found and put the bristles on the page. She didn’t question about paint. Something inside her already knew it wouldn’t need that to bring things to life. All she had to do was close her eyes, imagine something wonderful and put it on the paper. All Alice wanted was a friend. So she painted a silly mouse, named him Chedders, and asked him to be her best friend. He took her hand and pulled her towards the playground outside.

When she was ten, Alice’s dad left. It was horrible. Chedders did his best to comfort her, but Alice had outgrown him over the years. She grew older, as he never aged. She grew taller, but he stayed small. She grew wiser, while he remained ignorant. A bucket of water over his head was all it took to wash away his short life.

As she pulled out her grandmother’s paintbrush, she knew what she wanted to paint this time. The image was the same, but what was on the inside was what would matter. Alice wanted a new dad. So she painted one with a heart of gold and asked him to love her and mommy forever. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly.

When she was sixteen, Alice’s heart was broken. It was devastating. She loved the boy more than anything in the world, but he had rejected her in front of everyone. Alice’s dad tried to comfort her, but she couldn’t stand his papery touch anymore. She washed him down the shower drain, feeling no remorse.

The paintbrush was hidden underneath her mattress now. She slipped out of the house with it, leaving her mom to mourn alone, and headed to her school. Alice wanted a boyfriend. So she stole something from every boy she had ever had a crush on and painted them into the perfect boy. She asked him to be hers and he kissed her passionately.

When she was twenty-four, Alice tired of the perfect boy. It was lonesome. He did everything she asked, always following her like a loyal dog, but she had no time for herself. She wanted to live recklessly, enjoying life like her friends. She couldn’t stomach washing away the boy, so she decided to paint something different this time.

She pulled out the small chest holding the paintbrush from her nightstand. She truly understood what her grandmother had meant by it being special and imagined all the places she could go with its power. Alice wanted to be someone else. So she painted a better Alice and asked her to live her life. They didn’t look at each other when Alice left everything but the paintbrush behind, ready to begin again.

When she was thirty-two, Alice met a real boy. He was not perfect and that was wonderful. They loved each other despite their flaws, her heart swelling to twice its size. When he fell to one knee and held a ring towards her, she said yes.

On their wedding day, Alice wrapped her hair around the paintbrush, keeping the precious item close to her but not using it. When she walked down the aisle, she knew she had what she wanted. Nothing she painted would ever feel real to her again.

When she was forty-two, Alice’s daughter turned six. Alice often caught her daughter staring at the old paintbrush, locked away in a cabinet for display. For her daughter’s birthday, Alice had a set of paintbrushes made, in all different styles and sizes.

As Alice gave the present to her daughter, complete with a set of paints, she made a promise that her daughter would never feel the same loneliness she had. There would always be someone there for her, someone real. Alice felt a new kind of magic when she picked up one of the brushes and sat down to teach her daughter how to paint.