Painted with Love: Romance Eludes Time and Death

by Karen Diana Montee

  “You really shouldn’t make decisions right now Dee. You’re compromised. I’ve known you for two years. Let me decide what’s best for you right now.”

  “No way, I’m in charge of my life. I can manage just fine!” I replied raising my head and my voice.

  “Dee, this is not a time to be stubborn. I can take care of you. I did for the past two months. Please don’t forget that? I declared my love for you. Does that not count for anything? Are you interested in another guy, Andre or Paul? Is that it? I’m the best thing you got. I know you and love you.” He paused and put his head in his hands. “I need some time to think. I want to hear it from the doctor. Maybe there’s some hope that I can have the old Dee back.” Brian paced the room with his head down.

  I talked through the drug induced drowsiness, using all my strength to reply. “This is it. I’m a blind woman now! I should have died in that accident. Why didn’t you let me die Andre? I don’t want to be Dee. I don’t want to be blind.”

  “My name is not Andre, it’s Brian here! Don’t give up, Dee. You’re stronger than this.”

  “Right now I need rest and quiet. I don’t need to argue with you.”

  The room started to become part of a dream, including Brian’s reply. “I’m not going home, Dee. We are going to talk about this later. Just get better baby. It’s all going to be fine. We will get your eyes fixed. I will get you a new doctor. The next surgery will go better. This guy is the wrong doctor.” Brian looked at my face in silence, but I couldn’t make out his expression. Then he spoke. “I’m your man, Dee. Remember that. Nothin’s changed.”

  His last remarks stirred me from my dreamy state and I forced out the words that popped into my head, “The whole world is different as I see it. Nothing is the same…is more accurate for me.”

  “We’ll see.” Brian kissed my hand and walked out. I fell into blissful unawareness, while I wished that my life wasn’t real.

  ***

  Chapter Eighteen: Relativity

  San Francisco December 2005

  The next morning Brian spoke to Doctor Bryant. He argued with the doctor that my eye sight was not acceptable and he wanted a new neurologist to fix what Doctor Bryant couldn’t. The doctor was patient with Brian and explained that I had permanent damage where oxygen was deprived from an area of my brain for too long. I heard him say that there was a slight chance that new neural pathways could form and my eye sight could improve more over time, perhaps years. Once reality hit Brian, he walked around like a lost puppy. He stewed for an hour or two, then stood beside by my bed. “It doesn’t matter to me that you’re blind. You need me more than ever now. You can’t live without me.”

  “Andre please, I need time to absorb all that has happened.”

  “Damn it, Dee. Who the hell is Andre? Have you lost your mind too?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I have. Thanks for reminding me. I almost forgot I had memory loss and brain damage!” Brain paced around the room not sure what to do. It looked like there were three or six silhouettes of him walking back and forth. I could hardly keep track of the real Brian that stood in the middle of his repeated profiles. At the same time I could see his energy in a new way. I could see his mood as moving color, patterns and waves of light in silhouettes of Brian. It allowed me to watch in awe and not be upset by his mood.

  “This is just a bit stressful for you, which makes you more guarded. You always keep me at a distance. You have done it since we met. You’re so independent and won’t allow a man to love you. You’re going to live your life alone and lonely unless you let me in. Let me in, Dee, please? How will you date other men if you can’t see?”

  “Thanks Brian for the lecture. How much do I owe you?”

  “You’re cute even when you’re so stubborn.” He chuckled a little. “Hum, why I put up with you?” I could tell he was smiling and sensed that he wasn’t giving up on me.

  For the next ten days, life was a daily routine of conversations with Brian, eye tests, physical therapy and quiet crying. The most tolerable part of my hospital stay was when my youngest and oldest daughters flew down to see me. My middle daughter stayed in Seattle because she didn’t want to travel with her new baby.

  I spent hours with my girls, talking and trying to remember the past. I heard all about their lives, which gave me a glimmer of desire to live.

  My eye sight improved slightly after a few days, but double vision still came often and details were not clear. I couldn’t read, or identify my pants from my shirt hanging in the closet, except by color or touch. I couldn’t see my shoe laces to tie them. I learned to do a lot by feel. I didn’t express it aloud, but I feared dependence more than death.

  It was a Tuesday. I had permission from the doctor to do light activity, which meant I could go for a walk outside and have lunch in the cafeteria with my daughters. We sat and talked about the upcoming wedding and what was happening in their lives. I wished I could see their faces better.

  We returned to my room smiling to find a man waiting inside. I assumed it was Brian from first glance. “Whatcha doing...?” I started to say. As I got closer I realized that it wasn’t Brian. It was someone I didn’t know. I could see that his shape and the energy around him appeared far different from Brian’s. I held my breath and felt a warm wave pass through me.

  “Hello, Dee.” He walked towards me and extended his hand.

  I could see his blurry arm and I reached for his hand, looking down to help my weak vision. “Hello. To whom am I speaking?”

  “Paul Brown.”

  A lump rose up and into my throat. “Oh.” I swallowed. “Hello Paul.” I looked at his face to make out his features. We had spoken on the phone many times and exchanged several emails, but I hadn’t met him in person. He stared at me for a few moments without a word. “Excuse me,” I said. “This is my daughter Jessica and my daughter Clair.” Paul and my daughters exchanged greetings. “I need to speak to them in the hallway. I will be right back,” I said to Paul.

  The girls and I stepped into the hall and shut the door. “How do I look girls?” I asked.

  “You look great mom. We fixed you up before we left your room, remember?” Jessica said.

  “Do I have food in my teeth or lip stick smeared?” I asked.

  “No,” Clair chuckled. “Who is the guy? Why are you so nervous?”

  “I don’t know why I am nervous. We spoke several times about my work. I don’t know why he is here. He was always flirtatious. I just… Never mind, I am being silly.” I said, although my body was reacting in ways I couldn’t control. I rubbed my lips together and smoothed my hair. I took a deep breath and tried to look relaxed.

  “Sounds like you need to talk with him and see what is going on between you. We will go for a walk, Mom, unless you want us to stay?”

  “I’m fine girls. Go get some fresh air. But nothing is going on…”

  My daughters walked away and I opened the door to my room. Paul stood as I entered. “Have a seat, Paul,” I said as casually as I could. He sat back in the chair and I sat on the bed. “What brings you to see me?”

  “Oh, yes,” he began before a long pause. “Forgive me for staring; you just look incredibly…familiar.”

  His words seemed to have some significance as my body felt a sense of relief as he spoke. I shook off the feeling and replied, “Perhaps from my website photo?”

  “Ahhh…never mind.” He closed his eyes and shook his head before he continued, “I waited for a phone call from you to say that you were feeling better and ready to have dinner with me. When I didn’t receive a call, I thought perhaps something was wrong. I hesitated to come uninvited, but I had to know if you were okay.”

  “Oh yes. I’m sorry that I didn’t call, Paul. The surgery didn’t go as well as I had hoped.” I paused as I took in that statement realizing the weight of its meaning. “I am still recovering physically, as well as mentally and emotionally. But I’m glad you are here. Your visit gives me a reason to smile.”
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  “You look fantastic. What problems are you experiencing,” he asked.

  There was that question. I knew I would have to answer it many times over the coming months and years. Why did I have to answer it first with a handsome, flirtatious, successful art dealer? If I didn’t tell Paul I was blind, perhaps he would continue to find me attractive and we could flirt on the phone as if everything was normal. As soon as he knew I couldn’t see, certainly I would lose my appeal in his eyes. But he was right before me now. I couldn’t lie to him. I took a deep breath and let it out. “The surgery intended to repair my eyesight.” I wondered if my hat was covering my shaved head completely and if my clothes were flattering my figure. I adjusted my pose on the bed to look relaxed and feminine. I sat up and leaned back against the raised bed and crossed my legs.

  Paul didn’t respond for several seconds. “Your eyesight? Wow, I’m sorry, Dee. I had no idea.”

  “I know you didn’t. I didn’t mention that my sight was affected because I didn’t even want to say the words out loud.”

  “I understand.” Paul paused for a moment. He looked down at the floor with his right fist pressing against his forehead. “I wish I knew how to help you.”

  I smiled with tight closed lips and nodded my head. I sighed and then placed another pillow behind my back and adjusted my position on the bed.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “That depends on your definition of okay. I will live.”

  “Are you going to be able to keep taking pictures?”

  “No.” I shook my head with a tiny side-to-side movement.

  “Dee? That’s terrible. You’re so good.”

  I choked back my tears and nodded. I swallowed hard, but couldn’t reply. I cleared my throat and reached for the water bottle. Instead of grabbing the bottle I knocked it over. Quickly I stood it upright, stumbling with my awkward hand-eye coordination. Embarrassed for displaying my handicap, I opted to play it off. “Darn bottle nearly escaped. Good thing I’m so quick on the draw.”

  Paul seemed to not notice. “Your eyes…they look incredibly beautiful. You’re looking at me as if you can see me.”

  “I can see you, just not the details.” I stared at Paul while we were both silent. I noticed that I could see, or feel, a sense about him. Without visual minutiae distracting me, I was more aware of his posture, which felt very safe, almost familiar. His tone of voice was more apparent to me, and seemed both playful and caring. Suddenly I recalled shaking hands with Paul moments ago, and the warmth that traveled from his palm into my body.

  Paul broke the silence in a lighthearted tone, “Details are not as good on me as they were a few years ago. You’re better off not seeing them.”

  I smiled, understanding well how the years had worn my fair skin.

  “When will you be released?”

  “Soon, I hope.”

  “I would love to take you to dinner and discuss an exhibition of your work, if you will allow me another chance to show off your talent.”

  “Yes! That sounds great.” I wanted to burst into tears. At least my previous work could be shown, even if I never took another photo. “I would love to see your gallery sometime,” I replied. Paul didn’t respond, so I added. “I can see shadows and get a feel for the space. Objects come into a little bit of focus occasionally. I just can’t hold a focus for very long. I see a lot of double and triple vision too.”

  “I would be honored to give you a tour of the gallery. Will your eyesight improve with time?”

  “Not likely,” I said with a tight mouth.

  “Humm, perhaps your world will become more beautiful without the minutiae. You could see as Monet did, with a broader stroke.” He paused again for a minute and my mind raced to a dream with a fiance named Andre Monet.

  “When would you like to see the gallery?”

  His words interrupted my maddening thoughts which were running in five directions at once to find the meaning of this strange juxtaposition of names. Claude Monet was the right age to be a father or uncle to the Andre Monet of my dream. I snapped back quickly as if I hadn’t left this world for another time and place.

  “I’m on strict orders to rest. No jumping on trampolines, running marathons or water polo games for at least a month.” I smiled wide and adjusted my position again. I scratched my head which itched wildly from healing skin and hair beginning to grow back around my incision.

  “I can imagine. I will take it easy on you.” Paul smiled, then stood and walked towards me. I rose from the bed and walked to the foot of it. “I could pick you up when the doctor gives the okay, and take you on a short tour before dinner. I would have you back resting in three hours. You tell me when.”

  “I can’t turn down an offer to go somewhere other than this hospital. I will call you at the gallery when I get the okay.”

  “Here’s my cell phone number. I’m not always at the gallery. Call me direct,” Paul said stepping in very closely as he passed me his business card. I could feel his breath on my face and could smell his salty, spicy scent. I breathed in his exhalation and aroma, allowing it to excite me and calm me all at once.

  “Thank you, Paul. I look forward a personal tour.”

  “I can’t think of a lovelier way to spend an afternoon.”

  “I will call you soon.”

  Paul stared at me again, without a word. Then he added softly, “Please do.”

  I didn’t understand why I suddenly felt flustered. Perhaps it was his deep voice and the ocean breeze mixing with the fragrance flowing off his skin. Paul turned towards the door as Brian walked in. I couldn’t make out Brian’s expression, but the room suddenly felt tense.

  “Who are you?” Brian asked Paul.

  “Paul Brown. A pleasure to meet you.”

  “Oh you’re the gallery guy. Nice of you to stop by.”

  Paul seemed to stand taller to meet Brian’s subtle jealousy. “I will be showing Dee’s work at my gallery.” Paul said as he raised his chin towards Brian.

  “Her previous work you mean? She is not planning on taking more photos.” Brian stuck his chest forward and put both hands in his trouser pockets.

  “Any work she will let me show,” Paul said confidently.

  “That’s great. So, Dee is on medication right now. She needs lots of rest. I have been taking care of her for two and a half months. She can give you a call when she is feeling better.”

  “Excuse me,” I interrupted as I moved between the two men. “Talking about an exhibit is the most exciting thing that has happened to me since I woke from a coma. It’s enough to make me smile. Plus seeing my daughters,” I said.

  “What about me. Haven’t I given you a reason to smile?” Brian asked.

  I put my lips tightly together with compassion for Brian. “You’ve been awesome, Brian. Who else could put up with my sour disposition?”

  He appeared to smile. “Exactly. That’s why you need me. You should get some rest baby,” Brian said in a softer tone.

  “Brian, we are friends,” I relied firmly.

  He grabbed both of my shoulders and looked in my eyes. “But you are still in shock over your…stuff. You will come around. I know it,” Brian assured me. Brian turned to Paul. “If you want to show her photos, that’s great. She will call you.”

  Paul gave Brian a hard glare before turning to speak to me. “Call me when you want to see the gallery, Dee. I will exhibit your art and do everything I can to show your talent,” he said kindly.

  “Thank you, Paul. I will call you soon.”

  Paul left the room. When I heard the door close I spoke immediately to Brian. “Would you please go too?”

  “I was…”

  “Please?” I asked.

  Brian walked out and closed the door behind him.

  Two days later, Doctor Bryant gave the all clear for me to have an afternoon outing. He gave me a thorough check-up before I left with several instructions and symptoms to watch for.

  “If you ha
ve any symptoms, return to the hospital or call for an ambulance. I don’t expect any complications; otherwise, I wouldn’t let you leave.”

  Paul picked me up in a silver, convertible Mustang. As we drove the busy streets of San Francisco, I tried to see what I could. Sometimes when I stared at an object for several minutes, my brain registered it more clearly with greater focus. But as we flew by buildings, cars, a park and stop lights, I could often decipher what objects were, but missed any particulars.

  We arrived at his gallery and Paul lead me inside. The gallery was spacious with stark, white walls and concrete floors. It was neatly appointed with pieces of art and sculptures of large variety, although I could only make out details of the art if I starred and concentrated. When my double vision showed up, I enjoyed the art twice or more at the same moment. Paul gave me a tour, with a short description about each artist and why he chose to display them.

  “Why did you choose to show my work?” I asked.

  “That’s easy. I appreciate the way you capture emotions of people all over the world. We have so much wealth, and you show us the hardships of real people, and happy families with little or nothing; poverty, community, tradition, need and the stories of people thriving with so little. I feel like I step into their world. Your pictures stir a sense of guilt for not being more grateful. I like art that stirs such powerful feelings.”

  “Thank you. My purpose is to connect the world by helping people see that no matter where we live, or what we have, we all share the same emotions. We are all human and one race, the human race. My intention is not to make people feel guilty.”

  “Perhaps that is just me, feeling guilty that I don’t smile enough when I have so much.”

  After the tour Paul said, “I brought in a painting from my personal collection that I thought you might find interesting. It’s in this small viewing area, through here.” Paul led me to a small doorway that opened to another part of the gallery. As I entered the new space I felt immediately different; almost transformed as if I was visiting another era. A spot light shown-down on a rear wall that was blocked by a screen standing on the floor that may have been made of bamboo or wood. I couldn’t tell.