1. The Arts; I read once that the Arts define who we are as a race and I couldn't agree more. Those who paint, draw, dance, play music, sing, write and all those who imagine and then share visions that bind us together do foster hope...
2. Kindness, in all of its forms: miniscule and enormous...
3. Love, all kinds; especially from the arms of a four year old...
4. Traditions; the passing on of ritual and rites to the next generation...
5. Friendship; often underrated, but always vital to my well being...
6. Learning; maybe formal education, but more than that, the desire to keep moving forward and to never stop growing...
7. Children; just looking at them makes one think of the endless possibilities...
8. The military; I am always in awe of those who continue to volunteer and who put themselves in harm's way to protect us.
9. Science; I think that regardless of what discoveries are made or what cures are not yet found, those who do research and who dedicate their lives to making a contribution deserve a profound amount of respect...
10. Because without hope, life really isn't worth living. And for what it's worth, God, in whatever shape or form or definition that takes...
For Ty Matthew Hawley, who finished preschool today and who moves on to the next chapter of his ever changing existence. For him, the future is limitless and for me, it is colored with hope as I watch him move forward...
Friday, June 24, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
Fitting in...
I think it's fascinating to sit and watch groups of children play in a social setting; it's not only a predictor for the future, but it also tells me more than I want to know about myself and social acceptance. As a socio-psychological "experiment" in and of itself, the sandbox at the park is as credible a place as any to get an idea of how and why human beings long to be accepted by their peers. The child who is ostracized or on the fringe of a group is the one that you do not want your child to be; at least, that has seemed to be the case more often than not. Of course, we want our children to express their individuality and to not necessarily conform to what others are doing, just for the sake of being accepted. But, more than that, we want them to have friends and to develop relationships and ultimately, to find their place in a world that thrives on the herd mentality. Whether I like it or not, whether I want it or not, I am a member of many social groups and those who make up those groups inadvertently dictate how I feel about myself and the world around me. The difference is, at least for me, as an adult, I have some control over which groups I choose to be a part of... most of the time.
I can be on a team or on a committee or part of social network of mothers with preschool age children. I can belong to a church or a gym or I can participate in a monthly book club. The list is endless, but the factor that is most important is the "who" factor; who are the people who I am involved with in a social way. Who are the people who I've chosen to share my life, my time, my energy with? And, it is this question that I consider as I watch the kids play because ultimately, when you are a child and especially when you are an adolescent, you, more often than not, don't have a choice. The hierarchy of popularity chooses for you and, albeit unfair or not what we would choose for our children, that's just the way it is. And when your child is on the fringe, the world becomes an entirely different place, for both of you...
Having friends is vital to our sanity and to our feelings of productivity and well being. I get that, I have that and, those people enrich my life. But it has taken years of observation and evaluation to realize that I don't need a network of people in my friendship circle. I don't have any desire to be friends with someone just for the sake of calling them a friend. So the circle remains small, but intact and these, mostly female, friends are a support system that carries me through difficult times, joyous occasions and sometimes just the daily grind. But thinking back to oh, fifth grade and seventh grade and the days when I worked in the cafeteria and often got teased or made fun of, or the times that I was called names or mocked because I wasn't wearing the right clothes or shoes or whatever insignificant thing was significant in the world of teenagedom at the time; I realize that sometimes, it is just about surviving those years and, if you can survive them intact, psychologically and you maybe have 1 or 2 people who helped you get there, then you've come out ahead of the game. Because, sadly, it seems as though there are less opportunities to form those lifelong friendships due to many factors these days and yet, it is still blatantly evident on the playground that we, as social animals, still crave it and as long as we do, the schoolyard bully and the cool kids and the "nerds" will always exist... to our detriment I think.
When someone makes an effort to be a part of my life because they care about what happens to me, it changes something in the way I see the world. When someone tells me that what I've said or done has made them better, stronger, more able to succeed, it validates my efforts, my existence. When someone loves me, in whatever shape that takes, it reassures me that my life does have meaning and purpose. On the other side of that is this need to seek those people out. I want them and I need them, but I do not want to have to court them or prove to them that I am worth knowing. I want them to meet me, to know me and to then decide whether or not they want me as part of their social circle. And if they don't, when they don't, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it hurts, it really does hurt sometimes: my self-esteem, my ego, my psyche. But if I've learned anything and if I can somehow manage to detach myself from the situation, I usually realize that it was for the best. Coming back around to the mantra that "everything happens for a reason" sums it up; maybe we wouldn't have been good for each other, maybe, in fact, we would have hurt one another more than we would have helped one another. Then I shrug and tell myself that there will be many other opportunities and many other people and that the longer I think about this and the more I experience, that it is the same for my children too. The relationships that they foster with people of THEIR choosing are who will matter; not just making acquaintances who, may or may not turn on them day to day, just because they feel like it.
I get my feelings hurt, I'm sensitive and people matter to me very much. I take things to heart and while I may not always show it, I carry deep emotions and some scars that will always be there. Everyone does, that goes without saying I suppose. But what I've begun to learn, and I say begun because life is one big lesson and it is like the perpetual blackboard being written on over and over again, is that fitting in is nothing more than being accepted only by people who matter to you and by, yourself. I can't change you or make your life better because there is only so much that is my control. But what I can do, is make myself the best that I can be so that when our paths cross, when you need to find someone like me, that you and I will form that yin and yang, for both of our sakes. And as far as everyone else, I am no longer in need of acquaintances. I have passed that stage in my life when us knowing one another is enough to validate our knowing each other. I no longer have time for you. Don't take it personally, just remind yourself that life is short and that really, you don't have time for me either. And while it may seem as though I am being specific, I am speaking in generalities here. I no longer have time for those who want something from me only to give nothing in return and I especially no longer want anyone in my life who is not willing to accept that I have many, many flaws and that while you may want me in your life, that I may not always deliver; that more often than not, I will most likely disappoint you, but that ultimately, it is not a reflection of my lack of caring or focus. For, once we allow people to have too much control over any relationship in our lives, we abandon what we believe to be important and instead accept the mere "norm." And conformity aside, fitting in aside, I no longer think the "norm" is what makes life worth living.
Be daring and creative and accepting, but also be sure that your life is exactly what you want it to be and that you share it with whomever enriches that time. Relationships are very much like your skinny jeans, sometimes they never fit again and when you recognize that fact, you shop for new ones, but every once in awhile, you dip back into them and they slide on as if you'd been wearing them every single day. Wait, let me check my closet...
I can be on a team or on a committee or part of social network of mothers with preschool age children. I can belong to a church or a gym or I can participate in a monthly book club. The list is endless, but the factor that is most important is the "who" factor; who are the people who I am involved with in a social way. Who are the people who I've chosen to share my life, my time, my energy with? And, it is this question that I consider as I watch the kids play because ultimately, when you are a child and especially when you are an adolescent, you, more often than not, don't have a choice. The hierarchy of popularity chooses for you and, albeit unfair or not what we would choose for our children, that's just the way it is. And when your child is on the fringe, the world becomes an entirely different place, for both of you...
Having friends is vital to our sanity and to our feelings of productivity and well being. I get that, I have that and, those people enrich my life. But it has taken years of observation and evaluation to realize that I don't need a network of people in my friendship circle. I don't have any desire to be friends with someone just for the sake of calling them a friend. So the circle remains small, but intact and these, mostly female, friends are a support system that carries me through difficult times, joyous occasions and sometimes just the daily grind. But thinking back to oh, fifth grade and seventh grade and the days when I worked in the cafeteria and often got teased or made fun of, or the times that I was called names or mocked because I wasn't wearing the right clothes or shoes or whatever insignificant thing was significant in the world of teenagedom at the time; I realize that sometimes, it is just about surviving those years and, if you can survive them intact, psychologically and you maybe have 1 or 2 people who helped you get there, then you've come out ahead of the game. Because, sadly, it seems as though there are less opportunities to form those lifelong friendships due to many factors these days and yet, it is still blatantly evident on the playground that we, as social animals, still crave it and as long as we do, the schoolyard bully and the cool kids and the "nerds" will always exist... to our detriment I think.
When someone makes an effort to be a part of my life because they care about what happens to me, it changes something in the way I see the world. When someone tells me that what I've said or done has made them better, stronger, more able to succeed, it validates my efforts, my existence. When someone loves me, in whatever shape that takes, it reassures me that my life does have meaning and purpose. On the other side of that is this need to seek those people out. I want them and I need them, but I do not want to have to court them or prove to them that I am worth knowing. I want them to meet me, to know me and to then decide whether or not they want me as part of their social circle. And if they don't, when they don't, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it hurts, it really does hurt sometimes: my self-esteem, my ego, my psyche. But if I've learned anything and if I can somehow manage to detach myself from the situation, I usually realize that it was for the best. Coming back around to the mantra that "everything happens for a reason" sums it up; maybe we wouldn't have been good for each other, maybe, in fact, we would have hurt one another more than we would have helped one another. Then I shrug and tell myself that there will be many other opportunities and many other people and that the longer I think about this and the more I experience, that it is the same for my children too. The relationships that they foster with people of THEIR choosing are who will matter; not just making acquaintances who, may or may not turn on them day to day, just because they feel like it.
I get my feelings hurt, I'm sensitive and people matter to me very much. I take things to heart and while I may not always show it, I carry deep emotions and some scars that will always be there. Everyone does, that goes without saying I suppose. But what I've begun to learn, and I say begun because life is one big lesson and it is like the perpetual blackboard being written on over and over again, is that fitting in is nothing more than being accepted only by people who matter to you and by, yourself. I can't change you or make your life better because there is only so much that is my control. But what I can do, is make myself the best that I can be so that when our paths cross, when you need to find someone like me, that you and I will form that yin and yang, for both of our sakes. And as far as everyone else, I am no longer in need of acquaintances. I have passed that stage in my life when us knowing one another is enough to validate our knowing each other. I no longer have time for you. Don't take it personally, just remind yourself that life is short and that really, you don't have time for me either. And while it may seem as though I am being specific, I am speaking in generalities here. I no longer have time for those who want something from me only to give nothing in return and I especially no longer want anyone in my life who is not willing to accept that I have many, many flaws and that while you may want me in your life, that I may not always deliver; that more often than not, I will most likely disappoint you, but that ultimately, it is not a reflection of my lack of caring or focus. For, once we allow people to have too much control over any relationship in our lives, we abandon what we believe to be important and instead accept the mere "norm." And conformity aside, fitting in aside, I no longer think the "norm" is what makes life worth living.
Be daring and creative and accepting, but also be sure that your life is exactly what you want it to be and that you share it with whomever enriches that time. Relationships are very much like your skinny jeans, sometimes they never fit again and when you recognize that fact, you shop for new ones, but every once in awhile, you dip back into them and they slide on as if you'd been wearing them every single day. Wait, let me check my closet...
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Tell me a story...
Once upon a time, there was a shy little boy who didn't really know anyone in his neighborhood, but that was by choice. Nicolas was the kind of boy who didn't really feel the need to play with the other children or to have to do anything that they were doing because fitting in just wasn't a need in the hierarchy of important things to him. So, day after day, he sat by the window in his room, watching the other children climb trees, hide in the stalks of Mrs. Kotske's sunflowers, ride their bikes, all the while swerving to avoid each other on the narrowest part of the street; Nicolas watched and he captured it all, in his eyes, in his brain and eventually, through his hands.
The paper was expensive, but the oils were even moreso. Jeannie, his mother, would do without that new sweater that she desperately needed even with winter looming and Dan, his father, would have to make do by rotating the tires yet again and by praying that the treads would hold through until January. Christmas would be sparse, maybe they'd even have to go without a tree that year, but as they sat together and ate dinner that night and after, when Jeannie pulled the bag of art supplies out from the lower kitchen cupboard, she looked at Dan, who looked at Nik's face and the feelings of sacrifice that they had felt suddenly dissipated, and all was right with the world.
Nicolas adored his parents and he considered them to be his only real friends; the only people who really understood him and what mattered. He tried, often, to capture his love for them on paper, but he could never get it quite right. Either the colors blended too much or not enough and he just couldn't find the right blend of background and foreground to truly show the intensity of his feelings and his gratitude for all that they gave up for him and his art. He knew; he'd always known...
As he stroked the lines of green, he thought about how his mother had wept in the laundry room behind the closed door, thinking that no one could hear her and how his father had pushed through it to get to her. He remembered how his father had wrapped her up in his arms and how they'd both sunk to the floor, him whispering over and over, "We can try again Jean. It's going to be alright." He closed his eyes and felt the love that they had for one another wash over him and eventually, through the brush. Green seemed appropriate; green seemed perfect...
And then one day, he was staring down at the green of the grass and of the stalks of the flowers that adorned the plot and he tried not to remember the rich forest green of the dress that someone, who he didn't know, a distant relative had chosen for his mother to wear as she was lowered into the ground that day. Nicolas would have cried; he wanted to. But in the end, he was only exhausted and he longed to go home, to sit next to the picture window, to look outside as he had just last week, before everything, before his whole world had changed. Now, he grasped the hand of an aunt and stared blankly as the coffin was swallowed by the hole that even Nicolas found to be too deep for his mother to stay in by herself. But then he glanced to the right and saw that once it was filled in, it didn't look nearly as lonely. And, besides, now, like always, they had each other... The aunt tugged on his hand and he allowed himself to be pulled along, silently wishing that by the time he returned home that everything would be back to the way it was and that both his parents would be sitting at the kitchen table, smiling at one another across a cup of coffee and that they would turn to him simultaneously and say, "Hey Nik, where have you been?"
But, even at 8 years old, he knew that wasn't the way the world worked...
Sadness brings about creativity, maybe just as powerfully as hope or love or, as grief. Now, in his eighteenth year, Nicolas still hadn't found the balance that he so desperately needed between letting go of the past and of how to manage his future. But as he painted, when he painted, it was the only time that he broke free of the manacles of depression and despair that he still felt, even ten years later. Only now, his paintings wore shades of gray and jet black, really, mostly black and he never used green...
Another few years passed and although the grief subsided, it never fully disappeared. Rather, it hung on the edges of his days like a layer of dust that gently rests itself atop a picture frame. There were days when he felt whole and there were days when he felt nothing, and on those days especially, he tried very hard to remember, to identify a purpose in his life. Now 25, he desperately wanted to figure it all out.
He loved to sit on the edge of the lake that was near his Aunt's house, mainly because it was quiet. The cul de sac at the far end of the street prevented most cars from making the turn and although there had been many children in the neighborhood years ago; there were very few now. And for Nik, silence was never oppressive, rather, it was enriching. He sat very still and tried to sketch a white duck that was sunning itself nearby, but the duck kept flinching and turning its head. Soon, he gave up and just sketched the background and the duck's webbed feet, laughing to himself at how gangly they looked against the sharp, dark, wet rock. He sketched and he was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the splash until the duck jumped from the ripples of the water. He turned his head sharply only to see what looked like a little boy flailing his arms in the farthest end of the water. Not more than 30 yards from where he sat, Nik watched in semi horror as the boy dipped beneath the surface again, only to somehow push himself back up to gasp for more air.
He moved in that instant, diving into the water, taking the longest strokes that he could, pulling himself down when he got closer... eyes opened, he was struggling to hold in what little air he had left, but he saw the corner of the boy's flannel shirt and he aimed his fingertips toward the material. Grasping the corner as hard as he could, Nik pulled and wrapped his arms around the boy's chest, tugging him toward the surface, kicking with all of his strength, his lungs about to explode. He arched back with the boy in tow as he broke the line of the water, gasping, but still dragging the boy toward shore. When they fell up onto the sand, the boy began to cough and sputter and he rolled over onto his stomach, only to crawl to his knees less than a minute later, vomiting out the water and what little food he had left in his stomach. Nicolas automatically patted the boy's back, asking him if he was alright. When the boy had calmed down, he turned to look Nik in the face and he muttered softly,
"Thank you"
Nik couldn't help himself, he smiled and sat up, saying nothing, just brushing off the event as if nothing had happened. The boy turned and sat down on his haunches, shoving the hair out of his eyes; he couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 Nik thought, Where the hell were his parents?
"What's your name Bud?" Nik asked and the little boy sighed,
"Mark"
"Well Mark, who is supposed to be watching you? I mean, you can't swim and you're out on the lake alone?"
"I can swim!" Mark suddenly said indignantly, "I just kind of got stuck, I mean, my foot got stuck on something and I couldn't get loose"
Nik nodded, "Oh, right" he answered, biting back a smile
"Besides, I was only trying to find my baseball, I didn't even want to go in the lake"
Nik looked around, but there was no sign of the ball,
"Well, if I see it, I'll get it back to you" Nik stood up and asked Mark,
"Are you sure you're alright? Do you want me to call somebody?"
Mark just put his head down and said softly, "No. I'm fine." He stood up and kind of brushed himself off which was somewhat amusing as he was still soaking wet. Then he turned to Nik, held out his hand and said,
"Nice to meet you um"
"Nik"
"Nik" Nik extended his hand and shook Mark's, biting back another smile. He had the feeling that Mark and he might have been good friends, had they been the same age.
"I'll see ya" Mark said and pulled his hand back.
"See ya" Nik replied, wondering if he would ever see the kid again. He watched him walk all the way to the corner and then disappear. For just a second, Nik thought that he should have probably followed him or at the very least told someone what had happened. He rubbed his chin for a second and then shrugged; as long as the kid was okay, that was all that mattered...
"Mr. Stevens?" Nik gripped the phone tightly
"Yes?" his voice wavered a bit as he listened to the serious tone coming through the line. Much bad news was delivered by phone. He closed his eyes and squeezed his hand so tightly against the receiver that his knuckles went white...
The line of blue was almost imperceptible, but as he touched the canvas with the soft hairs of the paintbrush, he knew the color was necessary to the overall impression of the piece. He lost himself in the painting and he didn't realize that someone had been watching him the entire time...
When Nik finally looked up, Mark smiled from across the lake and waved a short, timid wave. Nik laughed and waved back motioning for Mark to come over and without pause, the little boy was sprinting around the water.
"Hi Nik!" Mark plopped down right next to him and Nik laughed again,
"Hey buddy, how are you? Feeling better?" Mark smiled,
"Yeah, hey, that's really cool" Mark pointed to the painting and Nik smiled,
"Yeah, I wanted to get the sky just right, but it's taking some time"
Mark thought about that for a second,
"Why don't you use the reflection of the sky on the water?" Mark kind of tilted his head at his own suggestion. Nik raised one of his eyebrows in thought,
"Good idea little man" Mark smiled automatically at Nik's assessment of his suggestion. Nik had the urge to reach over and tousle the kid's hair, but thought that this expression might be a little too much. Instead, he held up his hand, palm out flat; the universal symbol for thanking a kid. Mark laughed and slapped Nik five.
"Okay, well, I've gotta get going. Hey, thanks for letting me watch you paint." Mark stood up quickly and was already walking away before Nik could say anything. He jumped to his feet too and yelled out, cupping his mouth as Mark was already halfway around the lake,
"Hey Mark!" Mark turned and looked,
"I come out here every Friday morning, why don't you meet me next week and maybe I could show you how to paint something?" Mark couldn't contain his smile. Children were so easy to please, Nik laughed as Mark nodded his head up and down vigorously. He lifted his hand in a wave,
"See you next week!"
"I don't know how I'm going to finish all of this in time!" Nik shouted out to himself as he moved about the house, knocking into the corner of his dining room table which housed his latest sculpture.
"Dammit" he shouted louder, righting the table and staring at the dozen unfinished pieces that had to be completed before the end of the month. He ran his hand through his hair, hoping that he could get it all done; after all, his future depended on it.
"Yes sir" Nik had hung up the phone in a kind of surrealistic trance. He was one of ten students selected to win a possible fellowship in graphic art at the University and he knew that the selection committee would be made up of some of the finest and most cutting edge artists. He had to select five pieces to show and he also had to compose introductions for each of them. It was everything that he had hoped for and his only brief tinge of regret was that his parents weren't there to see it happen.
He put his hands on his hips and went to work...
Something was scratching, it sounded like scratching he thought. He opened one eye only to look around the room, not seeing anything. It was still dark outside.
"What the fuck?" Nik glanced over at the alarm clock and rubbed his eyes harshly. Now the sound was louder, accompanied by a knock. He threw off his sheet and stumbled out of bed. When he got to the front door, he opened the door so quickly that it took the visitor a second to realize what had just happened. Frightened, Mark stepped back while Nik thought he was hallucinating,
"Mark? What are you doing here?" Nik's voice was scratchy and full of sleep; not to mention the five beers that he'd had earlier that night,
"Hi Nik" Mark looked down, knowing that he shouldn't be there, but hoping that Nik could help him anyway. Nik stared at the top of Mark's head for another second before he grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him inside,
"Well don't just stand out there" and before Mark knew it, he was sitting on the couch, drinking a Coke, telling an almost complete stranger his life story...
By the time that Mark finished telling his story, the sun was coming up and Nik was in awe of all that the boy had had to endure. He empathized with everything that Mark told him and he was shocked that in a few short months that Mark too would be without a parent. Mark yawned then and put his head back on the couch, clearly not used to being up most of the night and into the morning.
"Why don't you pass out here for a little while and then I'll take you home" Nik said, already moving to get a blanket,
"K" Mark was already half asleep and as he shifted positions on the couch, Nik covered him with the throw,
"Night Mark"
"Night" his voice was so soft, almost a whisper.
Nik sat on the porch, sipping his coffee, watching the sunrise and wondering why he didn't make an effort to get up earlier to paint. The colors in the sky alone were enough to fuel several paintings. He thought about Mark's mother, everything that the boy had shared, the illness. He thought and considered and then, he moved inside to draw it.
Mark rubbed his eyes and threw the blanket over the arm of the couch. Feeling disoriented, he looked around and then, remembering where he was, he called out,
"Nik? Hey Nik?"
"In here Mark" his voice was coming from the back bedroom. Mark stood up slowly and stretched his arms over his head, yawning again. He had to go home, but he wanted to see what Nik was doing before he left. He walked toward where the voice came from.
"Hey, how'd you sleep?" Nik smiled at the kid,
"Good, I was so tired" Nik hesitated, stilling the brush in his hand,
"Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"How old are you? I mean, I should have asked, but"
"I'm 8" he said, shrugging as if this was an obvious answer
"Okay, just wondering"
Mark looked over at the canvas,
"What are you doing?"
Nik half smiled,
"I'm painting your story"
Mark was confused, he didn't have a clue what that meant,
"My, um, story?"
Nik nodded, "Yep, yours and your moms"
"Can I see it?" Mark asked, suddenly eager as to what Nik was going to come up with
"Well, how about I finish it first and then you can see it and take it home with you"
Mark's eyes got wider, "Really, cool"
Nik laughed, some expressions said it all.
They looked at each other for a minute,
"Hey, maybe you better go check in, your mom is probably starting to worry"
Mark looked at his watch then and nodded,
"Yeah, she'll be getting up now"
He paused,
"Nik, thank you"
He didn't say what for, but they both understood why he said it,
"Anytime Mark"
Mark turned and when he got to the doorjamb, he looked back and waved. Nik kind of half saluted him and then he got back to work.
He still didn't use green. He couldn't bring himself to color anything, even grass, the color of what used to stand for hope in his life, for love, for everything that meant anything. Even his mother's eyes had been green. As he moved the brush, he thought about her warm eyes, how they enveloped him, small crinkles in the corners and how they had lit up when she was happy, especialy when his father had come home from work. They had been very much in love. Nik's hand seemed to move of its own volition as he thought about Mark and his mother, the diagnosis, the finality of it all. He was lost in how Mark was dealing with it and ironically, how well adjusted the little boy seemed to be, much more than he'd ever been. He took his right index finger and smudged a bit of red in the corner of one of the trees that he was painting and as he wiped his hand on his old shirt, he wondered what was going to happen to Mark when his mother died. It wasn't a conversation that he was prepared to have, especially not with an 8 year old boy...
"Are the pieces almost finished?" the voice on the line was intent and focused,
"Yes Sir, next Friday I'll be bringing them in to your office" Nik looked around his workspace and he could suddenly feel his heart trying to escape out of his chest,
"Very well then, Friday,the 9th, 10 am"
"Thank you sir" that was it, Nik heard a click on the other end and as he put the receiver down, once more looking around the room, he knew he was in deep shit.
Mark was banging on his front door, "Nik, Nik, I found my baseball, come and play catch with me"
His hands were dripping with clay and wet with water,
"Mark, come in, I'm in the studio"
Nik heard the door slammed open and little feet pounding closer to where he was. A week had gone by since he'd seen Mark and heard the story and although he was caught up in his own deadline, he was worried about him. Mark came flying around the corner,
"Nik, hi!"
Nik couldn't help it, he had to smile at Mark's vivacity,
"Hey man, what's going on? What's all the yelling?"
"Look, I found my baseball!" He produced the worn out piece of twine and leather from behind his back and grinned from ear to ear. He's going to need braces Nik thought,
"That's great, where was it?" Nik kept moving his fingers so that the clay wouldn't set just yet,
"It was under my bed"
"Oh" Nik chuckled thinking about Mark's excuse for being near the lake that day,
"So come on, you want to play catch with me? I've got two gloves"
Nik looked up and saw the hope in Mark's eyes and he hated to deny him, hated the idea that he'd put work before something that would be just as fun for him as it would for Mark, but he had to; right then, he had to. He sat back up and looked down at the boy. He frowned just slightly, why hadn't he noticed that Mark had green eyes,
"Um Nik? Nik..." Mark waved his hand in front of Nik's face,
"Oh" Nik shook his head to snap himself out of it,
"Yeah, listen Mark, I've got to finish this piece right now. I've got a deadline, but if you come back this afternoon, I can play with you then?" he tried to interject a note of hope in his tone and Mark, in all of his 8 year old maturity, tried not to sound disappointed,
"Oh, okay, yeah, that'd be good. I'll come back later." He turned to go and Nik felt something pierce through him, although at first he didn't recognize what it was. He stood up and reached for the nearest towel,
"Hey Mark?"
The boy turned back, a question in his eyes,
"Give me 10 minutes"
Nik's reward for that statement was a grin so large that Nik could see the gaping space at the back of Mark's mouth where he'd lost his first molar. Mark bolted back outside,
"I'll be by the big red tree" he yelled and Nik laughed. He sighed and went to wash his hands.
Friday came and went and Nik delivered; he delivered it all. Mr. Perry was so impressed that he didn't even read the introductions to the pieces that Nik had brought; instead, he just listened to the story behind each piece and he was amazed at the quality of the work that Nik had produced in such a short amount of time. When Nik's presentation was over, Mr. Perry grinned so widely that it reminded Nik of Mark's face the week before. And when he'd left Mr. Perry's office that afternoon, he imagined that his smile rivaled theirs.
Two days later and Nicolas got the call that he'd been waiting for; the scholarship was his and come the next term, he was going back East to Art school. When he hung up the phone that day, he felt both relieved and somewhat terrified, but the more he thought about it that night, he realized that the fear wasn't really fear, it was simply, excitement.
"Mark, hey Mark" Nik was yelling around the park, hoping that the kid would show up since he still didn't know where he lived. Five days had passed and he was wondering how Mark was and at the same time, he was thinking that he'd get a phone number or something so that he could keep tabs on the kid. No response. Nik walked around the North side of the lake in the general direction of where he'd seen Mark come from on several occasions and as he crossed the street, he felt guilty for not having made the trek sooner. He walked past several houses in serious states of disrepair and as he moved East, he realized that he was going to cross into a neighborhood that he'd never even seen. Despite living with his Aunt for 10 years there, he'd never made the foray out past his initial street. How odd he thought to himself, but then again, he'd spent his early childhood staring down at life from a picture window; not all that surprising that he would have stayed close to home. He came to the first cross street and looked both ways, not sure which way to go when he suddenly saw Mark come out of a house to his immediate left and just as the kid began to run, he called out his name. Mark stopped, turned and when he saw who it was, the blood sort of drained from his face. He froze there so Nik had no choice but to walk over and greet the boy,
"Hey man, I've been looking for you"
Mark looked scared, really scared,
"Oh yeah, how come?"
Nik furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding why the kid was so nervous,
"Are you okay Mark? Is everything okay? How's your mom?"
Mark swallowed hard,
"Um fine, she's fine, I'm fine. I've just been busy, you know, my mom worries so sometimes I just hang around the house"
This sounded so ridiculous to Nik that he almost laughed and he probably would have except that Mark still had such fear in his face,
"Well" Nik ran a hand through his hair,
"I finished your painting and I thought you might like to see it"
Some of the color returned to Mark's face then and Nik could tell that the boy desperately wanted to see it,
"So, why don't you come by when you have a minute? No worries, whenever"
Mark sighed, wishing that he could tell Nik what he'd been doing, wishing that his friend, his only friend knew how much trouble he was in,
"Yeah I, well, maybe I could come by tomorrow, after school?"
Nik's face broke into a smile, "Great" he turned to go,
"I'll see you tomorrow then?"
Mark nodded, "Yeah"
"You sure you're okay?" Nik asked again,
"Oh sure, I'm good. I'll see you tomorrow Nik"
"Okay then, tomorrow" and he was rounding the corner before Mark could say anything else. Mark watched him go and he hoped that he would get to see Nik again...
Nik was in the midst of a creative frenzy. He was sculpting and focused and he couldn't allow himself the opportunity to get distracted. Mark entered his mind for a split second, but, a little guiltily, he pushed the thought aside. He had 24 hours to finish the last two pieces and he was going to finish, no matter what else had to be sacrificed.
"Okay Mark, ready?" his mother smiled down at him and Mark tried to smile back for her sake, but his heart was racing and his palms were beginning to sweat.
"It won't take long honey, I promise." His mother's voice was always soothing in moments like this so, he closed his eyes and breathed before opening them again and he tried to focus on how much he loved her and how much he was going to miss her.
"Well Mr. Stevens" the curator held out his hand as he finished perusing the last piece, Mark's painting, Nik had entitled it. He hadn't planned on including it, but there was something special about the finished piece, just like there was something about the kid.
"You are certainly talented on many levels. I especially love the Dracula piece" Nik smiled inwardly, it was his favorite of them all: dark, full of shadows and again, black and white.
"Thank you sir" he let go of the curator's hand and then he listened as Mr. Stevens explained how the pieces would be put on display for eventual purchase and that Nik indeed had been selected to receive a scholarship. He tried to contain his excitement, but he knew his eyes were giving him away as Mr. Stevens laughed and said,
"Congratulations young man, your future is going to be very bright."
"Thank you again Mr. Stevens" that was all that Nik could say right then because inside, he was screaming.
Inside he was screaming; it was more painful than anything he'd ever experienced. He tried to focus on her face, but images were blurred and the constant vomiting and lack of sleep made it difficult for him to think of anything other than the constant pain,
"Mommy" he cried out as the tears rolled down her face. He hadn't called her mommy in over three years,
"It's okay baby, I'm here. It's okay."
She lifted his hand and put it to her lips, "It's going to be okay" but deep down, she knew what was coming and she dreaded telling him; she dreaded what was coming next...
Nik looked at his watch and then out at the lake. It had been over 2 weeks and still, no Mark. That's it, he thought and he grabbed his coat and headed over to the street where he'd last seen Mark. He only got halfway down the sidewalk when he nearly collided with a woman who looked about his age, maybe a few years older. He sucked in his breath when she lifted her eyes to his because her face; she looked just like,
"Excuse me Nicolas?" her voice was quiet and unsure. Nik shook his head,
"Um, yes?" he rubbed the back of his neck, completely confused at this point. She smiled gently,
"My name is Nora, Brayden. I'm Mark's mother." He must have looked confused because she asked,
"Are you alright?" He felt like an idiot and shook his head again,
"Oh yeah, I'm just, well, I'm confused. Mark told me that you were in the hospital; that you were dying, brain cancer. I just didn't expect... hey, wait, Nora?" the blood seemed to instantly drain from her face and while she felt like she was going to faint, she didn't want to do it in front of a total stranger and especially not in front of the guy, the friend who Mark needed now more than ever. Nik put out his hand to steady her,
"Hey, I live right there, do you want to come inside and talk?"
She nodded, still too stunned to say anything else just yet. He kept his hand on her arm as they walked up the path and he only let go when he held the door open for her. He gestured to the living room and she moved quickly to sit down.
An hour later and he watched her walk away, only this time, he was the one who felt faint. Mark, he thought.
"So, the doctors want him to continue with the chemo and the radiation, but I don't want him to suffer any more and, you know, Mark doesn't want to be in a hospital bed. He wants to be out running around, playing, seeing you" Nora had smiled when she said this and in that moment, Nik realized how much he had missed having the kid around,
"How long Nora?" Nik asked somberly,
"The largest tumor is spreading quickly and although they aren't sure, the doctors say a few months at most" she breathed deeply not wanting to cry, not wanting to dwell on, once again, what she couldn't change. Nik put his face in his hands and then pulled then down his cheeks as he lifted his head back up. He tried to think of the right words to say, tried to think of something to make it easier for her, but only one thing came to mind,
"Nora"
she looked up, unshed tears threatening to spill,
"I was Mark's age when both of my parents were killed in a car accident" the words sounded strange coming out of his mouth because it had been years since he'd told anyone. He hadn't even told Mark that. Nora's expression changed and the tears did fall then,
"I'm so sorry for you" she said with sincerity,
"Thanks, thank you. I, I wish there was something that I could say" she held up her hand and cut him off,
"You just did; you understand the pain, you do" she sighed,
"If I could take it, I would. Some days I wake up and I think it would be better if it just happened instead of having to wait and to watch him go through it" Nik understood that,
"But then" and here she wiped the tears away before continuing,
"I feel grateful, thankful really, that I get to spend another day with him, another week, maybe another month."
"Yeah"
They looked at each other for another minute before Nora stood and said,
"Nik, he's going to have to stay inside for another week or so, could you, will you come and see him?" Nik smiled, she didn't even need to ask,
"Just tell me when" he said quickly and she breathed easier. Mark had been asking for his friend non-stop and she knew that by just seeing Nik that Mark's spirits would be lifted,
"Thank you"
"Of course" and as he walked her to the door, he wondered just what he was going to say to a little boy, his friend, who was most likely going to die before his ninth birthday,
"Thank you for coming Nora and for telling me"
"I'll see you soon" she said and then, she was walking away, back to the reality that she couldn't escape.
Nik stayed up all night, painting, inspired by Mark's story and when the sun came up, he thought about his parents and once again, the sadness enveloped him.
"Hi Nik"
"Nora" Nik smiled and walked through the screen door as she held it open. He had a small package in his hand and a medium sized canvas that he planned on setting up in Mark's room. She pointed to the door at the end of the hall,
"He's waiting for you; he hasn't stopped talking all morning" she laughed and Nik couldn't help himself, he did too. He walked toward the door and took a deep breath, just a bit anxious, but when he got the doorframe and Mark saw him, the yell that Mark let out cracked Nik up and within a minute, they were both laughing and throwing high fives,
"Hey little man"
"Hey Nik" Nik grabbed the chair closest to Mark's bed and sat down.
"Hey check this out" and Mark pulled his cap off of his head only to reveal a perfectly shaped dome which was now devoid of any hair,
"I'm like an old man" and Nik chuckled, reaching over to rub Mark's head,
"And you're happy about that?" Mark sat back up and pulled the cap down,
"Yeah, well, not happy, but how many guys my age lose all their hair at once, check it out, even my eyebrows are MIA" Nik couldn't contain the joy that he felt when he sat with Mark. He wondered how many 8 year olds would have such a a good attitude about being bald,
"And it's only hair, it'll grow back" Mark shrugged,
"Yes it will" Nik said,
"Hey, what's in the box?" just like a kid Nik thought, on to the next thing,
"Oh, it's for you" he handed it to Mark who ripped right into it,
"Whoa" he breathed as he looked at the expensive oils that were inside of a mahogany box. Mark lifted the lid and looked at Nik,
"They're for you so you can start painting. After I'm gone, you can use these to draw whatever you want, whenever..." he saw Mark's expression change then,
"Where are you going?"
Nik rolled his lips thinking that he should have prepped the kid first, but since he'd brought it up, he knew that he had to continue,
"Well, remember those pieces that I had to finish, that I was working on before?"
Mark nodded,
"This man from a school, an Art school back East came to see them and he decided that I was good enough to be allowed to go to the school"
"Back East? Where is that?"
"New York" Nik said carefully and Mark let that sink in,
"Oh, when, when are you going?" Nik could hear the disappointment in the boy's voice,
"The program starts next month so I'll be heading out in a couple of weeks"
Something registered on Mark's face then and Nik couldn't be sure if it was anger or fear or maybe a combination of the two,
"Well, that's good right? You want to go to school. I always liked school." his voice cracked when he said that,
"Mark?" Mark looked up at him,
"Want to learn a really cool trick for painting the horizon?" At the thought of learning something new related to something that Nik liked, Mark perked up,
"Sure"
Nik stood up to take off his coat,
"Nik?"
"Yeah?"
"What's the horizon?" and Nik couldn't help himself; he reached over and rubbed the top of Mark's fuzzy cap and laughed. He really had missed him.
"I'll see you in a couple of days okay? Get some rest. If you feel up to it why don't I take you down to the reservoir and we can skateboard or ride bikes?" Mark's face really lit up then,
"Really?"
"Sure"
"Okay Nik and, thanks for coming over"
"Anytime buddy" and he held his hand out for Mark to smack it,
"I'll see you" he walked out of the room then, feeling both exhilerated and exhausted and he couldn't wait to see Mark again.
"Hi Nik" Nora's voice called out from the kitchen
"Hey Nora, how's it going?" when she didn't say anything, he walked over to the dining room table, snatching a cookie that was on it. She had her back turned to him and she wasn't moving much,
"Nora?" he moved to her side and when she looked up, her face was blotchy and red; she'd been crying for some time,
"What is it? Where's Mark?" Nik started to move,
"He's not here Nik" that stopped him,
"Where is he?"
"His grandmother took him to the zoo today; he really wanted to see the new meerkat habitat"
Nik breathed a sigh of relief,
"Okay, well, what's going on?" he pulled up next to her again,
She looked at him,
"We went back to the oncologist yesterday"
"And?"
"Best case scenario, 3 months" Nik felt his knees buckle,
"Nora"
"And the doctors think that the last of that time, he'll be in a coma or so drugged up that he won't know what's going on anyway"
She turned and he put his arms around her as she began to sob. Three months; in 2 weeks, he'd be in New York, starting his new life and before the sememster ended, Mark would be... he held Nora for a long time until she was ready to regroup and not long after, Mark came running through the door, holding a stuffed meerkat, screaming wildly and suddenly the bad news was overwhelmed by the absolute joy of the spirit of a little boy who wouldn't be squelched, not for anything.
Nik went home that night, his heart a little heavier, but his soul a little lighter. Nora had decided not to tell Mark how much time he had left. They couldn't change it so he didn't need to know. As Nik walked, he thought of the past two weeks; the fishing, the ollies and the trip to LACMA. Nik smiled when he remembered how Mark's eyes had gotten really wide when he looked at some of the surrealist paintings, how the boy had tilted his head and how he had tried very hard to make some sense of what he was looking at. Nik thought about Mark's first attempt at painting; a landscape that had inadvertently turned into what coincidentally resembled a large meerkat. He walked slowly, glancing at the lake, thinking about how Mark had almost drowned that day. He thought about how hard it had been to come to grips with the loss of his parents and he wondered how much harder it was going to be to deal with the passing of a little boy who had become his best friend. He shoved his hands in his pockets, sighing, thinking that he only had 4 days left before he had to go.
"Hey Nik, why don't we play Monopoly?" Mark's voice was high pitched and his eyes blinked rapidly. Nora had explained that it was the medicine; it dried out his eyes,
"You sure you're up for it?" Nik asked, already moving to grab the box from the top shelf. It was his last night in Los Angeles and they both were reluctant to see it come to an end,
"Game on" Mark laughed and fell down on the floor. Nik sat down Indian style and pulled off the box top. Let it be a long game he thought to himself as he began to take out the money,
"I'm banker this time" Mark giggled, "You cheated last time"
Nik half smiled; he had cheated indeed.
Nora watched from the doorway and when it got to be almost midnight, she cleared her throat. Nik was painting a background on the canvas which he'd left for Mark and that now clearly looked like two meerkats. Mark was sound asleep on the floor, two 100 dollar monopoly bills clenched in his left fist,
"Hey" she said softly and Nik looked up,
"I just wanted to finish it for him"
She smiled, moving to put Mark in bed,
"Here, let me" Nik said, standing up and walking to where Mark lay silently on the floor. They both hesitated for a second before he bent down to lift the boy into his arms. He wasn't heavy at all, not nearly what he should be. He walked over to Mark's bed, but before he put him down he held him for just another minute and he hoped that Mark would hear him when he whispered,
"Goodbye little man"
Nora moved to pull up Mark's covers, but before she could turn to thank Nik, she heard the front door slam. As Nik ran down the sidewalk, he let the hurt come, let it wash over him like the water surrounding him the day that he'd saved Mark. Saved Mark. He'd done it once and he wished, against all odds, that he could somehow do it again.
"And so, I think you'll find that the Life Drawing class and the Digital Sketching Seminar will fulfill the requirements for your first semester..." Nik was listening, but he was only half listening. He was looking around, thinking, reading over the note that Mark had sent to him, wishing him luck and asking him to come back over Christmas, if he could. Christmas... 5 months from then. Nik stood up then, slowly,
"Mr. Stevens, somewhere you'd rather be?" the professor asked and Nik smiled,
"Actually, there is" he said and moved as quickly as he could.
He had been in New York almost a month and it had been everything he'd hoped, but in that moment, sitting in class, he realized that he was getting the chance that he'd never gotten with his parents; a real chance to say goodbye, the only chance that he was ever going to get to help Mark really live. He threw his clothes in his suitcase and then, he reached for the phone.
"And so the meerkats huddle together in hopes of staying warm for the winter" Nora's voice faded out slowly as Mark's eyes began to close. She leaned down to kiss her son and as she brushed her fingertips across his forehead, she suddenly felt exhausted. She stood up and walked to the bedroom door, switching off his light, staring at his outline in the dark, wishing, always wishing for just a little more time.
"Hey Mom?"
"Yes honey"
"You know you have to draw the line of the horizon up higher to make it look further away..."
"I didn't know that" she said as she kept reading her book. Sitting out by the lake, she'd pushed Mark's wheelchair slowly so that he could look around and ask as many questions as he wanted and because it had been 2 days since he was outside,
"Yeah, Nik taught me that... Nik, Nik, Nik!"
Nora looked up as Mark tried to yell, but it came out more as a fierce growl. Nik smiled and walked toward where they sat,
"Nik, hey Nik" Mark's entire face lit up as Nik approached him,holding out his hand in their typical greeting and as Mark slapped it, Nik sighed,
"I missed you little man" and the smiled that washed over Mark's face was worth the decision that Nik had made.
"Me too" Mark said softly.
Nik sat that night, looking out at the darkness, watching the wind gently push the water in the lake. As he walked down to the water's edge, he let the last 6 weeks wash over him, the moments of pure love and happiness that he'd shared with Mark, the thrill of seeing the boy every day and not having to wait until it was too late to tell him how much he'd meant to him. He cherished the moment when Nora held Mark, right before he shut his eyes for the last time, the sound of her crying and the tender words that she'd whispered as she held him against her chest. As he walked around the lake, he heard Mark's laughter and felt the grip of his hand in Nik's palm, he thought of the way that Mark had turned to Nora and told her not to worry, that it was going to be okay and not to miss him too much because it would make more lines on her face. And he thought of how the night before Mark died how the boy had put his frail arms around Nik and told him that he loved him and how he would miss him. As Nik walked, he played it all like the movie of his life and he let himself feel it all and finally, he let the tears come.
He sat out by the lake until the sun came up and then he walked home and into his studio. He tried to remember where he'd put it. Rubbing his chin, he honestly didn't know; he didn't even know if he still had any. He grabbed a stepstool and moved it underneath the top cabinet. Opening the door, he glanced inside and saw an old case. He grabbed it and stepped down, opening it up immediately. Looking at the tubes, he found the one he wanted and he smiled. Moving toward the window, he grabbed some paper, placed it on the easel and as he squirted the paint onto the small pallet, he thought about hope and faith and love, he thought about the enduring power of friendship and how, if you allow it to, one experience can change you forever, good, bad, difficult. He dipped the brush into the paint, swirling the paste into a thinner, more manageable texture. He thought about his parents and how the time that he'd been given with Mark had allowed him to grieve, finally, on his own terms, in his own way. He thought about how grateful he was to have been sitting on the lake that day and how, no matter what happened in his life from then on, that he would live every day to the fullest.
He touched the tip of the brush to the paper and sighed. The richness of the green was better than he'd remembered...
The paper was expensive, but the oils were even moreso. Jeannie, his mother, would do without that new sweater that she desperately needed even with winter looming and Dan, his father, would have to make do by rotating the tires yet again and by praying that the treads would hold through until January. Christmas would be sparse, maybe they'd even have to go without a tree that year, but as they sat together and ate dinner that night and after, when Jeannie pulled the bag of art supplies out from the lower kitchen cupboard, she looked at Dan, who looked at Nik's face and the feelings of sacrifice that they had felt suddenly dissipated, and all was right with the world.
Nicolas adored his parents and he considered them to be his only real friends; the only people who really understood him and what mattered. He tried, often, to capture his love for them on paper, but he could never get it quite right. Either the colors blended too much or not enough and he just couldn't find the right blend of background and foreground to truly show the intensity of his feelings and his gratitude for all that they gave up for him and his art. He knew; he'd always known...
As he stroked the lines of green, he thought about how his mother had wept in the laundry room behind the closed door, thinking that no one could hear her and how his father had pushed through it to get to her. He remembered how his father had wrapped her up in his arms and how they'd both sunk to the floor, him whispering over and over, "We can try again Jean. It's going to be alright." He closed his eyes and felt the love that they had for one another wash over him and eventually, through the brush. Green seemed appropriate; green seemed perfect...
And then one day, he was staring down at the green of the grass and of the stalks of the flowers that adorned the plot and he tried not to remember the rich forest green of the dress that someone, who he didn't know, a distant relative had chosen for his mother to wear as she was lowered into the ground that day. Nicolas would have cried; he wanted to. But in the end, he was only exhausted and he longed to go home, to sit next to the picture window, to look outside as he had just last week, before everything, before his whole world had changed. Now, he grasped the hand of an aunt and stared blankly as the coffin was swallowed by the hole that even Nicolas found to be too deep for his mother to stay in by herself. But then he glanced to the right and saw that once it was filled in, it didn't look nearly as lonely. And, besides, now, like always, they had each other... The aunt tugged on his hand and he allowed himself to be pulled along, silently wishing that by the time he returned home that everything would be back to the way it was and that both his parents would be sitting at the kitchen table, smiling at one another across a cup of coffee and that they would turn to him simultaneously and say, "Hey Nik, where have you been?"
But, even at 8 years old, he knew that wasn't the way the world worked...
Sadness brings about creativity, maybe just as powerfully as hope or love or, as grief. Now, in his eighteenth year, Nicolas still hadn't found the balance that he so desperately needed between letting go of the past and of how to manage his future. But as he painted, when he painted, it was the only time that he broke free of the manacles of depression and despair that he still felt, even ten years later. Only now, his paintings wore shades of gray and jet black, really, mostly black and he never used green...
Another few years passed and although the grief subsided, it never fully disappeared. Rather, it hung on the edges of his days like a layer of dust that gently rests itself atop a picture frame. There were days when he felt whole and there were days when he felt nothing, and on those days especially, he tried very hard to remember, to identify a purpose in his life. Now 25, he desperately wanted to figure it all out.
He loved to sit on the edge of the lake that was near his Aunt's house, mainly because it was quiet. The cul de sac at the far end of the street prevented most cars from making the turn and although there had been many children in the neighborhood years ago; there were very few now. And for Nik, silence was never oppressive, rather, it was enriching. He sat very still and tried to sketch a white duck that was sunning itself nearby, but the duck kept flinching and turning its head. Soon, he gave up and just sketched the background and the duck's webbed feet, laughing to himself at how gangly they looked against the sharp, dark, wet rock. He sketched and he was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the splash until the duck jumped from the ripples of the water. He turned his head sharply only to see what looked like a little boy flailing his arms in the farthest end of the water. Not more than 30 yards from where he sat, Nik watched in semi horror as the boy dipped beneath the surface again, only to somehow push himself back up to gasp for more air.
He moved in that instant, diving into the water, taking the longest strokes that he could, pulling himself down when he got closer... eyes opened, he was struggling to hold in what little air he had left, but he saw the corner of the boy's flannel shirt and he aimed his fingertips toward the material. Grasping the corner as hard as he could, Nik pulled and wrapped his arms around the boy's chest, tugging him toward the surface, kicking with all of his strength, his lungs about to explode. He arched back with the boy in tow as he broke the line of the water, gasping, but still dragging the boy toward shore. When they fell up onto the sand, the boy began to cough and sputter and he rolled over onto his stomach, only to crawl to his knees less than a minute later, vomiting out the water and what little food he had left in his stomach. Nicolas automatically patted the boy's back, asking him if he was alright. When the boy had calmed down, he turned to look Nik in the face and he muttered softly,
"Thank you"
Nik couldn't help himself, he smiled and sat up, saying nothing, just brushing off the event as if nothing had happened. The boy turned and sat down on his haunches, shoving the hair out of his eyes; he couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 Nik thought, Where the hell were his parents?
"What's your name Bud?" Nik asked and the little boy sighed,
"Mark"
"Well Mark, who is supposed to be watching you? I mean, you can't swim and you're out on the lake alone?"
"I can swim!" Mark suddenly said indignantly, "I just kind of got stuck, I mean, my foot got stuck on something and I couldn't get loose"
Nik nodded, "Oh, right" he answered, biting back a smile
"Besides, I was only trying to find my baseball, I didn't even want to go in the lake"
Nik looked around, but there was no sign of the ball,
"Well, if I see it, I'll get it back to you" Nik stood up and asked Mark,
"Are you sure you're alright? Do you want me to call somebody?"
Mark just put his head down and said softly, "No. I'm fine." He stood up and kind of brushed himself off which was somewhat amusing as he was still soaking wet. Then he turned to Nik, held out his hand and said,
"Nice to meet you um"
"Nik"
"Nik" Nik extended his hand and shook Mark's, biting back another smile. He had the feeling that Mark and he might have been good friends, had they been the same age.
"I'll see ya" Mark said and pulled his hand back.
"See ya" Nik replied, wondering if he would ever see the kid again. He watched him walk all the way to the corner and then disappear. For just a second, Nik thought that he should have probably followed him or at the very least told someone what had happened. He rubbed his chin for a second and then shrugged; as long as the kid was okay, that was all that mattered...
"Mr. Stevens?" Nik gripped the phone tightly
"Yes?" his voice wavered a bit as he listened to the serious tone coming through the line. Much bad news was delivered by phone. He closed his eyes and squeezed his hand so tightly against the receiver that his knuckles went white...
The line of blue was almost imperceptible, but as he touched the canvas with the soft hairs of the paintbrush, he knew the color was necessary to the overall impression of the piece. He lost himself in the painting and he didn't realize that someone had been watching him the entire time...
When Nik finally looked up, Mark smiled from across the lake and waved a short, timid wave. Nik laughed and waved back motioning for Mark to come over and without pause, the little boy was sprinting around the water.
"Hi Nik!" Mark plopped down right next to him and Nik laughed again,
"Hey buddy, how are you? Feeling better?" Mark smiled,
"Yeah, hey, that's really cool" Mark pointed to the painting and Nik smiled,
"Yeah, I wanted to get the sky just right, but it's taking some time"
Mark thought about that for a second,
"Why don't you use the reflection of the sky on the water?" Mark kind of tilted his head at his own suggestion. Nik raised one of his eyebrows in thought,
"Good idea little man" Mark smiled automatically at Nik's assessment of his suggestion. Nik had the urge to reach over and tousle the kid's hair, but thought that this expression might be a little too much. Instead, he held up his hand, palm out flat; the universal symbol for thanking a kid. Mark laughed and slapped Nik five.
"Okay, well, I've gotta get going. Hey, thanks for letting me watch you paint." Mark stood up quickly and was already walking away before Nik could say anything. He jumped to his feet too and yelled out, cupping his mouth as Mark was already halfway around the lake,
"Hey Mark!" Mark turned and looked,
"I come out here every Friday morning, why don't you meet me next week and maybe I could show you how to paint something?" Mark couldn't contain his smile. Children were so easy to please, Nik laughed as Mark nodded his head up and down vigorously. He lifted his hand in a wave,
"See you next week!"
"I don't know how I'm going to finish all of this in time!" Nik shouted out to himself as he moved about the house, knocking into the corner of his dining room table which housed his latest sculpture.
"Dammit" he shouted louder, righting the table and staring at the dozen unfinished pieces that had to be completed before the end of the month. He ran his hand through his hair, hoping that he could get it all done; after all, his future depended on it.
"Yes sir" Nik had hung up the phone in a kind of surrealistic trance. He was one of ten students selected to win a possible fellowship in graphic art at the University and he knew that the selection committee would be made up of some of the finest and most cutting edge artists. He had to select five pieces to show and he also had to compose introductions for each of them. It was everything that he had hoped for and his only brief tinge of regret was that his parents weren't there to see it happen.
He put his hands on his hips and went to work...
Something was scratching, it sounded like scratching he thought. He opened one eye only to look around the room, not seeing anything. It was still dark outside.
"What the fuck?" Nik glanced over at the alarm clock and rubbed his eyes harshly. Now the sound was louder, accompanied by a knock. He threw off his sheet and stumbled out of bed. When he got to the front door, he opened the door so quickly that it took the visitor a second to realize what had just happened. Frightened, Mark stepped back while Nik thought he was hallucinating,
"Mark? What are you doing here?" Nik's voice was scratchy and full of sleep; not to mention the five beers that he'd had earlier that night,
"Hi Nik" Mark looked down, knowing that he shouldn't be there, but hoping that Nik could help him anyway. Nik stared at the top of Mark's head for another second before he grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him inside,
"Well don't just stand out there" and before Mark knew it, he was sitting on the couch, drinking a Coke, telling an almost complete stranger his life story...
By the time that Mark finished telling his story, the sun was coming up and Nik was in awe of all that the boy had had to endure. He empathized with everything that Mark told him and he was shocked that in a few short months that Mark too would be without a parent. Mark yawned then and put his head back on the couch, clearly not used to being up most of the night and into the morning.
"Why don't you pass out here for a little while and then I'll take you home" Nik said, already moving to get a blanket,
"K" Mark was already half asleep and as he shifted positions on the couch, Nik covered him with the throw,
"Night Mark"
"Night" his voice was so soft, almost a whisper.
Nik sat on the porch, sipping his coffee, watching the sunrise and wondering why he didn't make an effort to get up earlier to paint. The colors in the sky alone were enough to fuel several paintings. He thought about Mark's mother, everything that the boy had shared, the illness. He thought and considered and then, he moved inside to draw it.
Mark rubbed his eyes and threw the blanket over the arm of the couch. Feeling disoriented, he looked around and then, remembering where he was, he called out,
"Nik? Hey Nik?"
"In here Mark" his voice was coming from the back bedroom. Mark stood up slowly and stretched his arms over his head, yawning again. He had to go home, but he wanted to see what Nik was doing before he left. He walked toward where the voice came from.
"Hey, how'd you sleep?" Nik smiled at the kid,
"Good, I was so tired" Nik hesitated, stilling the brush in his hand,
"Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"How old are you? I mean, I should have asked, but"
"I'm 8" he said, shrugging as if this was an obvious answer
"Okay, just wondering"
Mark looked over at the canvas,
"What are you doing?"
Nik half smiled,
"I'm painting your story"
Mark was confused, he didn't have a clue what that meant,
"My, um, story?"
Nik nodded, "Yep, yours and your moms"
"Can I see it?" Mark asked, suddenly eager as to what Nik was going to come up with
"Well, how about I finish it first and then you can see it and take it home with you"
Mark's eyes got wider, "Really, cool"
Nik laughed, some expressions said it all.
They looked at each other for a minute,
"Hey, maybe you better go check in, your mom is probably starting to worry"
Mark looked at his watch then and nodded,
"Yeah, she'll be getting up now"
He paused,
"Nik, thank you"
He didn't say what for, but they both understood why he said it,
"Anytime Mark"
Mark turned and when he got to the doorjamb, he looked back and waved. Nik kind of half saluted him and then he got back to work.
He still didn't use green. He couldn't bring himself to color anything, even grass, the color of what used to stand for hope in his life, for love, for everything that meant anything. Even his mother's eyes had been green. As he moved the brush, he thought about her warm eyes, how they enveloped him, small crinkles in the corners and how they had lit up when she was happy, especialy when his father had come home from work. They had been very much in love. Nik's hand seemed to move of its own volition as he thought about Mark and his mother, the diagnosis, the finality of it all. He was lost in how Mark was dealing with it and ironically, how well adjusted the little boy seemed to be, much more than he'd ever been. He took his right index finger and smudged a bit of red in the corner of one of the trees that he was painting and as he wiped his hand on his old shirt, he wondered what was going to happen to Mark when his mother died. It wasn't a conversation that he was prepared to have, especially not with an 8 year old boy...
"Are the pieces almost finished?" the voice on the line was intent and focused,
"Yes Sir, next Friday I'll be bringing them in to your office" Nik looked around his workspace and he could suddenly feel his heart trying to escape out of his chest,
"Very well then, Friday,the 9th, 10 am"
"Thank you sir" that was it, Nik heard a click on the other end and as he put the receiver down, once more looking around the room, he knew he was in deep shit.
Mark was banging on his front door, "Nik, Nik, I found my baseball, come and play catch with me"
His hands were dripping with clay and wet with water,
"Mark, come in, I'm in the studio"
Nik heard the door slammed open and little feet pounding closer to where he was. A week had gone by since he'd seen Mark and heard the story and although he was caught up in his own deadline, he was worried about him. Mark came flying around the corner,
"Nik, hi!"
Nik couldn't help it, he had to smile at Mark's vivacity,
"Hey man, what's going on? What's all the yelling?"
"Look, I found my baseball!" He produced the worn out piece of twine and leather from behind his back and grinned from ear to ear. He's going to need braces Nik thought,
"That's great, where was it?" Nik kept moving his fingers so that the clay wouldn't set just yet,
"It was under my bed"
"Oh" Nik chuckled thinking about Mark's excuse for being near the lake that day,
"So come on, you want to play catch with me? I've got two gloves"
Nik looked up and saw the hope in Mark's eyes and he hated to deny him, hated the idea that he'd put work before something that would be just as fun for him as it would for Mark, but he had to; right then, he had to. He sat back up and looked down at the boy. He frowned just slightly, why hadn't he noticed that Mark had green eyes,
"Um Nik? Nik..." Mark waved his hand in front of Nik's face,
"Oh" Nik shook his head to snap himself out of it,
"Yeah, listen Mark, I've got to finish this piece right now. I've got a deadline, but if you come back this afternoon, I can play with you then?" he tried to interject a note of hope in his tone and Mark, in all of his 8 year old maturity, tried not to sound disappointed,
"Oh, okay, yeah, that'd be good. I'll come back later." He turned to go and Nik felt something pierce through him, although at first he didn't recognize what it was. He stood up and reached for the nearest towel,
"Hey Mark?"
The boy turned back, a question in his eyes,
"Give me 10 minutes"
Nik's reward for that statement was a grin so large that Nik could see the gaping space at the back of Mark's mouth where he'd lost his first molar. Mark bolted back outside,
"I'll be by the big red tree" he yelled and Nik laughed. He sighed and went to wash his hands.
Friday came and went and Nik delivered; he delivered it all. Mr. Perry was so impressed that he didn't even read the introductions to the pieces that Nik had brought; instead, he just listened to the story behind each piece and he was amazed at the quality of the work that Nik had produced in such a short amount of time. When Nik's presentation was over, Mr. Perry grinned so widely that it reminded Nik of Mark's face the week before. And when he'd left Mr. Perry's office that afternoon, he imagined that his smile rivaled theirs.
Two days later and Nicolas got the call that he'd been waiting for; the scholarship was his and come the next term, he was going back East to Art school. When he hung up the phone that day, he felt both relieved and somewhat terrified, but the more he thought about it that night, he realized that the fear wasn't really fear, it was simply, excitement.
"Mark, hey Mark" Nik was yelling around the park, hoping that the kid would show up since he still didn't know where he lived. Five days had passed and he was wondering how Mark was and at the same time, he was thinking that he'd get a phone number or something so that he could keep tabs on the kid. No response. Nik walked around the North side of the lake in the general direction of where he'd seen Mark come from on several occasions and as he crossed the street, he felt guilty for not having made the trek sooner. He walked past several houses in serious states of disrepair and as he moved East, he realized that he was going to cross into a neighborhood that he'd never even seen. Despite living with his Aunt for 10 years there, he'd never made the foray out past his initial street. How odd he thought to himself, but then again, he'd spent his early childhood staring down at life from a picture window; not all that surprising that he would have stayed close to home. He came to the first cross street and looked both ways, not sure which way to go when he suddenly saw Mark come out of a house to his immediate left and just as the kid began to run, he called out his name. Mark stopped, turned and when he saw who it was, the blood sort of drained from his face. He froze there so Nik had no choice but to walk over and greet the boy,
"Hey man, I've been looking for you"
Mark looked scared, really scared,
"Oh yeah, how come?"
Nik furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding why the kid was so nervous,
"Are you okay Mark? Is everything okay? How's your mom?"
Mark swallowed hard,
"Um fine, she's fine, I'm fine. I've just been busy, you know, my mom worries so sometimes I just hang around the house"
This sounded so ridiculous to Nik that he almost laughed and he probably would have except that Mark still had such fear in his face,
"Well" Nik ran a hand through his hair,
"I finished your painting and I thought you might like to see it"
Some of the color returned to Mark's face then and Nik could tell that the boy desperately wanted to see it,
"So, why don't you come by when you have a minute? No worries, whenever"
Mark sighed, wishing that he could tell Nik what he'd been doing, wishing that his friend, his only friend knew how much trouble he was in,
"Yeah I, well, maybe I could come by tomorrow, after school?"
Nik's face broke into a smile, "Great" he turned to go,
"I'll see you tomorrow then?"
Mark nodded, "Yeah"
"You sure you're okay?" Nik asked again,
"Oh sure, I'm good. I'll see you tomorrow Nik"
"Okay then, tomorrow" and he was rounding the corner before Mark could say anything else. Mark watched him go and he hoped that he would get to see Nik again...
Nik was in the midst of a creative frenzy. He was sculpting and focused and he couldn't allow himself the opportunity to get distracted. Mark entered his mind for a split second, but, a little guiltily, he pushed the thought aside. He had 24 hours to finish the last two pieces and he was going to finish, no matter what else had to be sacrificed.
"Okay Mark, ready?" his mother smiled down at him and Mark tried to smile back for her sake, but his heart was racing and his palms were beginning to sweat.
"It won't take long honey, I promise." His mother's voice was always soothing in moments like this so, he closed his eyes and breathed before opening them again and he tried to focus on how much he loved her and how much he was going to miss her.
"Well Mr. Stevens" the curator held out his hand as he finished perusing the last piece, Mark's painting, Nik had entitled it. He hadn't planned on including it, but there was something special about the finished piece, just like there was something about the kid.
"You are certainly talented on many levels. I especially love the Dracula piece" Nik smiled inwardly, it was his favorite of them all: dark, full of shadows and again, black and white.
"Thank you sir" he let go of the curator's hand and then he listened as Mr. Stevens explained how the pieces would be put on display for eventual purchase and that Nik indeed had been selected to receive a scholarship. He tried to contain his excitement, but he knew his eyes were giving him away as Mr. Stevens laughed and said,
"Congratulations young man, your future is going to be very bright."
"Thank you again Mr. Stevens" that was all that Nik could say right then because inside, he was screaming.
Inside he was screaming; it was more painful than anything he'd ever experienced. He tried to focus on her face, but images were blurred and the constant vomiting and lack of sleep made it difficult for him to think of anything other than the constant pain,
"Mommy" he cried out as the tears rolled down her face. He hadn't called her mommy in over three years,
"It's okay baby, I'm here. It's okay."
She lifted his hand and put it to her lips, "It's going to be okay" but deep down, she knew what was coming and she dreaded telling him; she dreaded what was coming next...
Nik looked at his watch and then out at the lake. It had been over 2 weeks and still, no Mark. That's it, he thought and he grabbed his coat and headed over to the street where he'd last seen Mark. He only got halfway down the sidewalk when he nearly collided with a woman who looked about his age, maybe a few years older. He sucked in his breath when she lifted her eyes to his because her face; she looked just like,
"Excuse me Nicolas?" her voice was quiet and unsure. Nik shook his head,
"Um, yes?" he rubbed the back of his neck, completely confused at this point. She smiled gently,
"My name is Nora, Brayden. I'm Mark's mother." He must have looked confused because she asked,
"Are you alright?" He felt like an idiot and shook his head again,
"Oh yeah, I'm just, well, I'm confused. Mark told me that you were in the hospital; that you were dying, brain cancer. I just didn't expect... hey, wait, Nora?" the blood seemed to instantly drain from her face and while she felt like she was going to faint, she didn't want to do it in front of a total stranger and especially not in front of the guy, the friend who Mark needed now more than ever. Nik put out his hand to steady her,
"Hey, I live right there, do you want to come inside and talk?"
She nodded, still too stunned to say anything else just yet. He kept his hand on her arm as they walked up the path and he only let go when he held the door open for her. He gestured to the living room and she moved quickly to sit down.
An hour later and he watched her walk away, only this time, he was the one who felt faint. Mark, he thought.
"So, the doctors want him to continue with the chemo and the radiation, but I don't want him to suffer any more and, you know, Mark doesn't want to be in a hospital bed. He wants to be out running around, playing, seeing you" Nora had smiled when she said this and in that moment, Nik realized how much he had missed having the kid around,
"How long Nora?" Nik asked somberly,
"The largest tumor is spreading quickly and although they aren't sure, the doctors say a few months at most" she breathed deeply not wanting to cry, not wanting to dwell on, once again, what she couldn't change. Nik put his face in his hands and then pulled then down his cheeks as he lifted his head back up. He tried to think of the right words to say, tried to think of something to make it easier for her, but only one thing came to mind,
"Nora"
she looked up, unshed tears threatening to spill,
"I was Mark's age when both of my parents were killed in a car accident" the words sounded strange coming out of his mouth because it had been years since he'd told anyone. He hadn't even told Mark that. Nora's expression changed and the tears did fall then,
"I'm so sorry for you" she said with sincerity,
"Thanks, thank you. I, I wish there was something that I could say" she held up her hand and cut him off,
"You just did; you understand the pain, you do" she sighed,
"If I could take it, I would. Some days I wake up and I think it would be better if it just happened instead of having to wait and to watch him go through it" Nik understood that,
"But then" and here she wiped the tears away before continuing,
"I feel grateful, thankful really, that I get to spend another day with him, another week, maybe another month."
"Yeah"
They looked at each other for another minute before Nora stood and said,
"Nik, he's going to have to stay inside for another week or so, could you, will you come and see him?" Nik smiled, she didn't even need to ask,
"Just tell me when" he said quickly and she breathed easier. Mark had been asking for his friend non-stop and she knew that by just seeing Nik that Mark's spirits would be lifted,
"Thank you"
"Of course" and as he walked her to the door, he wondered just what he was going to say to a little boy, his friend, who was most likely going to die before his ninth birthday,
"Thank you for coming Nora and for telling me"
"I'll see you soon" she said and then, she was walking away, back to the reality that she couldn't escape.
Nik stayed up all night, painting, inspired by Mark's story and when the sun came up, he thought about his parents and once again, the sadness enveloped him.
"Hi Nik"
"Nora" Nik smiled and walked through the screen door as she held it open. He had a small package in his hand and a medium sized canvas that he planned on setting up in Mark's room. She pointed to the door at the end of the hall,
"He's waiting for you; he hasn't stopped talking all morning" she laughed and Nik couldn't help himself, he did too. He walked toward the door and took a deep breath, just a bit anxious, but when he got the doorframe and Mark saw him, the yell that Mark let out cracked Nik up and within a minute, they were both laughing and throwing high fives,
"Hey little man"
"Hey Nik" Nik grabbed the chair closest to Mark's bed and sat down.
"Hey check this out" and Mark pulled his cap off of his head only to reveal a perfectly shaped dome which was now devoid of any hair,
"I'm like an old man" and Nik chuckled, reaching over to rub Mark's head,
"And you're happy about that?" Mark sat back up and pulled the cap down,
"Yeah, well, not happy, but how many guys my age lose all their hair at once, check it out, even my eyebrows are MIA" Nik couldn't contain the joy that he felt when he sat with Mark. He wondered how many 8 year olds would have such a a good attitude about being bald,
"And it's only hair, it'll grow back" Mark shrugged,
"Yes it will" Nik said,
"Hey, what's in the box?" just like a kid Nik thought, on to the next thing,
"Oh, it's for you" he handed it to Mark who ripped right into it,
"Whoa" he breathed as he looked at the expensive oils that were inside of a mahogany box. Mark lifted the lid and looked at Nik,
"They're for you so you can start painting. After I'm gone, you can use these to draw whatever you want, whenever..." he saw Mark's expression change then,
"Where are you going?"
Nik rolled his lips thinking that he should have prepped the kid first, but since he'd brought it up, he knew that he had to continue,
"Well, remember those pieces that I had to finish, that I was working on before?"
Mark nodded,
"This man from a school, an Art school back East came to see them and he decided that I was good enough to be allowed to go to the school"
"Back East? Where is that?"
"New York" Nik said carefully and Mark let that sink in,
"Oh, when, when are you going?" Nik could hear the disappointment in the boy's voice,
"The program starts next month so I'll be heading out in a couple of weeks"
Something registered on Mark's face then and Nik couldn't be sure if it was anger or fear or maybe a combination of the two,
"Well, that's good right? You want to go to school. I always liked school." his voice cracked when he said that,
"Mark?" Mark looked up at him,
"Want to learn a really cool trick for painting the horizon?" At the thought of learning something new related to something that Nik liked, Mark perked up,
"Sure"
Nik stood up to take off his coat,
"Nik?"
"Yeah?"
"What's the horizon?" and Nik couldn't help himself; he reached over and rubbed the top of Mark's fuzzy cap and laughed. He really had missed him.
"I'll see you in a couple of days okay? Get some rest. If you feel up to it why don't I take you down to the reservoir and we can skateboard or ride bikes?" Mark's face really lit up then,
"Really?"
"Sure"
"Okay Nik and, thanks for coming over"
"Anytime buddy" and he held his hand out for Mark to smack it,
"I'll see you" he walked out of the room then, feeling both exhilerated and exhausted and he couldn't wait to see Mark again.
"Hi Nik" Nora's voice called out from the kitchen
"Hey Nora, how's it going?" when she didn't say anything, he walked over to the dining room table, snatching a cookie that was on it. She had her back turned to him and she wasn't moving much,
"Nora?" he moved to her side and when she looked up, her face was blotchy and red; she'd been crying for some time,
"What is it? Where's Mark?" Nik started to move,
"He's not here Nik" that stopped him,
"Where is he?"
"His grandmother took him to the zoo today; he really wanted to see the new meerkat habitat"
Nik breathed a sigh of relief,
"Okay, well, what's going on?" he pulled up next to her again,
She looked at him,
"We went back to the oncologist yesterday"
"And?"
"Best case scenario, 3 months" Nik felt his knees buckle,
"Nora"
"And the doctors think that the last of that time, he'll be in a coma or so drugged up that he won't know what's going on anyway"
She turned and he put his arms around her as she began to sob. Three months; in 2 weeks, he'd be in New York, starting his new life and before the sememster ended, Mark would be... he held Nora for a long time until she was ready to regroup and not long after, Mark came running through the door, holding a stuffed meerkat, screaming wildly and suddenly the bad news was overwhelmed by the absolute joy of the spirit of a little boy who wouldn't be squelched, not for anything.
Nik went home that night, his heart a little heavier, but his soul a little lighter. Nora had decided not to tell Mark how much time he had left. They couldn't change it so he didn't need to know. As Nik walked, he thought of the past two weeks; the fishing, the ollies and the trip to LACMA. Nik smiled when he remembered how Mark's eyes had gotten really wide when he looked at some of the surrealist paintings, how the boy had tilted his head and how he had tried very hard to make some sense of what he was looking at. Nik thought about Mark's first attempt at painting; a landscape that had inadvertently turned into what coincidentally resembled a large meerkat. He walked slowly, glancing at the lake, thinking about how Mark had almost drowned that day. He thought about how hard it had been to come to grips with the loss of his parents and he wondered how much harder it was going to be to deal with the passing of a little boy who had become his best friend. He shoved his hands in his pockets, sighing, thinking that he only had 4 days left before he had to go.
"Hey Nik, why don't we play Monopoly?" Mark's voice was high pitched and his eyes blinked rapidly. Nora had explained that it was the medicine; it dried out his eyes,
"You sure you're up for it?" Nik asked, already moving to grab the box from the top shelf. It was his last night in Los Angeles and they both were reluctant to see it come to an end,
"Game on" Mark laughed and fell down on the floor. Nik sat down Indian style and pulled off the box top. Let it be a long game he thought to himself as he began to take out the money,
"I'm banker this time" Mark giggled, "You cheated last time"
Nik half smiled; he had cheated indeed.
Nora watched from the doorway and when it got to be almost midnight, she cleared her throat. Nik was painting a background on the canvas which he'd left for Mark and that now clearly looked like two meerkats. Mark was sound asleep on the floor, two 100 dollar monopoly bills clenched in his left fist,
"Hey" she said softly and Nik looked up,
"I just wanted to finish it for him"
She smiled, moving to put Mark in bed,
"Here, let me" Nik said, standing up and walking to where Mark lay silently on the floor. They both hesitated for a second before he bent down to lift the boy into his arms. He wasn't heavy at all, not nearly what he should be. He walked over to Mark's bed, but before he put him down he held him for just another minute and he hoped that Mark would hear him when he whispered,
"Goodbye little man"
Nora moved to pull up Mark's covers, but before she could turn to thank Nik, she heard the front door slam. As Nik ran down the sidewalk, he let the hurt come, let it wash over him like the water surrounding him the day that he'd saved Mark. Saved Mark. He'd done it once and he wished, against all odds, that he could somehow do it again.
"And so, I think you'll find that the Life Drawing class and the Digital Sketching Seminar will fulfill the requirements for your first semester..." Nik was listening, but he was only half listening. He was looking around, thinking, reading over the note that Mark had sent to him, wishing him luck and asking him to come back over Christmas, if he could. Christmas... 5 months from then. Nik stood up then, slowly,
"Mr. Stevens, somewhere you'd rather be?" the professor asked and Nik smiled,
"Actually, there is" he said and moved as quickly as he could.
He had been in New York almost a month and it had been everything he'd hoped, but in that moment, sitting in class, he realized that he was getting the chance that he'd never gotten with his parents; a real chance to say goodbye, the only chance that he was ever going to get to help Mark really live. He threw his clothes in his suitcase and then, he reached for the phone.
"And so the meerkats huddle together in hopes of staying warm for the winter" Nora's voice faded out slowly as Mark's eyes began to close. She leaned down to kiss her son and as she brushed her fingertips across his forehead, she suddenly felt exhausted. She stood up and walked to the bedroom door, switching off his light, staring at his outline in the dark, wishing, always wishing for just a little more time.
"Hey Mom?"
"Yes honey"
"You know you have to draw the line of the horizon up higher to make it look further away..."
"I didn't know that" she said as she kept reading her book. Sitting out by the lake, she'd pushed Mark's wheelchair slowly so that he could look around and ask as many questions as he wanted and because it had been 2 days since he was outside,
"Yeah, Nik taught me that... Nik, Nik, Nik!"
Nora looked up as Mark tried to yell, but it came out more as a fierce growl. Nik smiled and walked toward where they sat,
"Nik, hey Nik" Mark's entire face lit up as Nik approached him,holding out his hand in their typical greeting and as Mark slapped it, Nik sighed,
"I missed you little man" and the smiled that washed over Mark's face was worth the decision that Nik had made.
"Me too" Mark said softly.
Nik sat that night, looking out at the darkness, watching the wind gently push the water in the lake. As he walked down to the water's edge, he let the last 6 weeks wash over him, the moments of pure love and happiness that he'd shared with Mark, the thrill of seeing the boy every day and not having to wait until it was too late to tell him how much he'd meant to him. He cherished the moment when Nora held Mark, right before he shut his eyes for the last time, the sound of her crying and the tender words that she'd whispered as she held him against her chest. As he walked around the lake, he heard Mark's laughter and felt the grip of his hand in Nik's palm, he thought of the way that Mark had turned to Nora and told her not to worry, that it was going to be okay and not to miss him too much because it would make more lines on her face. And he thought of how the night before Mark died how the boy had put his frail arms around Nik and told him that he loved him and how he would miss him. As Nik walked, he played it all like the movie of his life and he let himself feel it all and finally, he let the tears come.
He sat out by the lake until the sun came up and then he walked home and into his studio. He tried to remember where he'd put it. Rubbing his chin, he honestly didn't know; he didn't even know if he still had any. He grabbed a stepstool and moved it underneath the top cabinet. Opening the door, he glanced inside and saw an old case. He grabbed it and stepped down, opening it up immediately. Looking at the tubes, he found the one he wanted and he smiled. Moving toward the window, he grabbed some paper, placed it on the easel and as he squirted the paint onto the small pallet, he thought about hope and faith and love, he thought about the enduring power of friendship and how, if you allow it to, one experience can change you forever, good, bad, difficult. He dipped the brush into the paint, swirling the paste into a thinner, more manageable texture. He thought about his parents and how the time that he'd been given with Mark had allowed him to grieve, finally, on his own terms, in his own way. He thought about how grateful he was to have been sitting on the lake that day and how, no matter what happened in his life from then on, that he would live every day to the fullest.
He touched the tip of the brush to the paper and sighed. The richness of the green was better than he'd remembered...
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Running, again
I haven't been writing. It's not that I haven't felt like it, but, it's really that I didn't have a whole lot to say. Well, that's not entirely true either, but I suppose I had to say something to account for the gaps in the time sequence, or, maybe not. Whatever the case, I've had a lot going through my mind and my heart, but not the desire to write it all down.
I was running this past Monday; another half marathon and I realized something kind of important as I was running and after I was finished. It was maybe the first time that it came to me and it was revelatory. Usually I play back a sequence in my head, some time after I finish a race and, as I haven't done that many, the sequence isn't anything interesting or unique at all. Rather, it's just a replay of the course I've just run, in stages. I think back to each mile and kind of piece it all together, thinking about how I felt and the people around me, what I saw go by; you know, kind of taking it all in, as a process. I like reliving it because sometimes when I'm running, well, frankly, every time I run, I am paying attention to my breathing and then to some kind of pain that erupts somewhere in my body. That's when the Advil comes in handy, but I digress. But today, when I tried to play back the miles in my head, I couldn't single them out. I mean, I remember the start and I remember some of the climbs, as there were many and I remember seeing Rosh and Salvador and the finish, but there were only pieces this time; no whole picture, no movie reel, nothing to play back and examine and it took me a little while to realize why...
I was 13 the first time I really kissed a boy. And by really, I mean the kind of kiss that makes you understand what it means to be kissed. That moment when one of you actually knows what the hell you are doing and it all kind of just meshes into one big dreamy, romantic, sexy moment. There is no music or anything in the background, but when he pulls his lips away, you definitely want more; that kind of a kiss. And then you go home and your head hits the pillow and you play back the whole hazy thing in your head, letting your face flush all over again and in that moment, it isn't that you are remembering which way your head tilted or where his hands were or who initiated it; instead, it's just a feeling, an overwhelming feeling of intensity and joy and heat and whatever else he made you feel in that moment... well, that is exactly what happened to me this time with this particular run; it became a haze, a feeling and it was the first time that I've ever come close to anything that might resemble a runner's high...
The course was difficult, hilly and continuous; it was hot and challenging and demanding and for the first 7 miles, I ran strong. I pushed myself and when I came in at mile 5 to see 51 minutes; I felt invincible. I knew I wasn't, but I felt really good, powerful even. I was out of my head then and for the next 2 1/2 miles too. I just ran, I listened to my body and I let it lead me. I cranked up the music and stopped wondering and worrying and griping. I just ran... until mile 8 and then it became a job, an obstacle to push past and the remaining 5 miles were a jealous bitch who wouldn't stop calling me, even when I'd changed my number.
Replaying it, I realized that at mile 8, or around there, I started thinking again; oh, almost at 10, not much longer, when is this fucking hill going to end? Whatever I was thinking started to slow me down and wear me out and every time another bend in the course came, I got a little more snarky and pissed and downright disgusted. And when I had to walk and I did here and there, especially when I had to walk right before the last hill, 1/2 mile before the finish line, I was mentally cursing everyone who has ever lived in Laguna Hills and especially the people who created the event... I've always, in every race, sped up the last mile and really tried to finish strong, giving it everything I had, but, not this time. This time I crossed and, it ended.
What I realize now, in retrospect, is that the mental aspect of my running is NOT thinking about my running; the mental aspect is just telling myself to go, to keep going, to not stop, no matter what; that quitting is NEVER an option. And by looking at it like that, that somehow I am freeing myself and my body and my soul to really push, to go faster or harder or stronger or whatever, but to not stop. Mental toughness is underrated in my opinion; you can have all of the talent in the universe, but if you second guess yourself or if you doubt yourself, you're done. The haze that surrounds this last race is good for me; it forces me to examine what I did well without pinpointing exact moments, without asking myself why I did this or why I didn't do that. It really has allowed me to get OUT of my head...
Running is a metaphor for life. How can it not be? Pain is temporary, but pride is forever... yes, very true. And it isn't about crossing the finish line. In life, death is the finish line for most of us; the end, the ultimate "crossing." But really, life is one big loop marathon that never really has us finish. And for those people who are out there, they really aren't there for the medal or the tshirt or the bananas at the end of the race; those things are just par for the course. Those people are out there because they believe that they are just one more step or one more mile from reaching their personal goals, their personal finish lines. And they push and cry and hobble and suffer right next to you, with you and then, they'll turn and pat you on the back, smile at you, tell you their story and you'll shake hands and hopefully see them at the next race.
Someone told me, a few weeks ago that the days are long but the years are short... if that doesn't sum up life and if that really doesn't sum up anything that you set out to do, I don't know what does. The miles are long, but the race is short or maybe it's the other way around? Either way, my race continues and I hope yours does as well, but maybe with less hills next time? Run like an animal...
I was running this past Monday; another half marathon and I realized something kind of important as I was running and after I was finished. It was maybe the first time that it came to me and it was revelatory. Usually I play back a sequence in my head, some time after I finish a race and, as I haven't done that many, the sequence isn't anything interesting or unique at all. Rather, it's just a replay of the course I've just run, in stages. I think back to each mile and kind of piece it all together, thinking about how I felt and the people around me, what I saw go by; you know, kind of taking it all in, as a process. I like reliving it because sometimes when I'm running, well, frankly, every time I run, I am paying attention to my breathing and then to some kind of pain that erupts somewhere in my body. That's when the Advil comes in handy, but I digress. But today, when I tried to play back the miles in my head, I couldn't single them out. I mean, I remember the start and I remember some of the climbs, as there were many and I remember seeing Rosh and Salvador and the finish, but there were only pieces this time; no whole picture, no movie reel, nothing to play back and examine and it took me a little while to realize why...
I was 13 the first time I really kissed a boy. And by really, I mean the kind of kiss that makes you understand what it means to be kissed. That moment when one of you actually knows what the hell you are doing and it all kind of just meshes into one big dreamy, romantic, sexy moment. There is no music or anything in the background, but when he pulls his lips away, you definitely want more; that kind of a kiss. And then you go home and your head hits the pillow and you play back the whole hazy thing in your head, letting your face flush all over again and in that moment, it isn't that you are remembering which way your head tilted or where his hands were or who initiated it; instead, it's just a feeling, an overwhelming feeling of intensity and joy and heat and whatever else he made you feel in that moment... well, that is exactly what happened to me this time with this particular run; it became a haze, a feeling and it was the first time that I've ever come close to anything that might resemble a runner's high...
The course was difficult, hilly and continuous; it was hot and challenging and demanding and for the first 7 miles, I ran strong. I pushed myself and when I came in at mile 5 to see 51 minutes; I felt invincible. I knew I wasn't, but I felt really good, powerful even. I was out of my head then and for the next 2 1/2 miles too. I just ran, I listened to my body and I let it lead me. I cranked up the music and stopped wondering and worrying and griping. I just ran... until mile 8 and then it became a job, an obstacle to push past and the remaining 5 miles were a jealous bitch who wouldn't stop calling me, even when I'd changed my number.
Replaying it, I realized that at mile 8, or around there, I started thinking again; oh, almost at 10, not much longer, when is this fucking hill going to end? Whatever I was thinking started to slow me down and wear me out and every time another bend in the course came, I got a little more snarky and pissed and downright disgusted. And when I had to walk and I did here and there, especially when I had to walk right before the last hill, 1/2 mile before the finish line, I was mentally cursing everyone who has ever lived in Laguna Hills and especially the people who created the event... I've always, in every race, sped up the last mile and really tried to finish strong, giving it everything I had, but, not this time. This time I crossed and, it ended.
What I realize now, in retrospect, is that the mental aspect of my running is NOT thinking about my running; the mental aspect is just telling myself to go, to keep going, to not stop, no matter what; that quitting is NEVER an option. And by looking at it like that, that somehow I am freeing myself and my body and my soul to really push, to go faster or harder or stronger or whatever, but to not stop. Mental toughness is underrated in my opinion; you can have all of the talent in the universe, but if you second guess yourself or if you doubt yourself, you're done. The haze that surrounds this last race is good for me; it forces me to examine what I did well without pinpointing exact moments, without asking myself why I did this or why I didn't do that. It really has allowed me to get OUT of my head...
Running is a metaphor for life. How can it not be? Pain is temporary, but pride is forever... yes, very true. And it isn't about crossing the finish line. In life, death is the finish line for most of us; the end, the ultimate "crossing." But really, life is one big loop marathon that never really has us finish. And for those people who are out there, they really aren't there for the medal or the tshirt or the bananas at the end of the race; those things are just par for the course. Those people are out there because they believe that they are just one more step or one more mile from reaching their personal goals, their personal finish lines. And they push and cry and hobble and suffer right next to you, with you and then, they'll turn and pat you on the back, smile at you, tell you their story and you'll shake hands and hopefully see them at the next race.
Someone told me, a few weeks ago that the days are long but the years are short... if that doesn't sum up life and if that really doesn't sum up anything that you set out to do, I don't know what does. The miles are long, but the race is short or maybe it's the other way around? Either way, my race continues and I hope yours does as well, but maybe with less hills next time? Run like an animal...
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