“It was a rhetorical question. So was, look at yourself. I just mean take care before you collapse again.”
“When I need to paint, I paint. What if suddenly it wasn’t there anymore? Before I even reach thirty, it’s gone? I couldn’t take it. The rest of my life would be empty. I’ve got to keep going.”
“Keep the fire burning, huh?”
“Yeah, keep it burning so it doesn’t go out.”
“Lew, it’ll never go out. Not yours.”
“You don’t know.”
“I’m damned near positive. What I think is that you’ve got to worry about living long enough so you can get it all out. If you die, all that stuff is left inside you. Unfinished. Forgotten. Never seen by anyone. You’ve got to live long enough to paint it all.”
Lewis clapped. “Nice little speech.”
“Really, Lew, take a break. Promise me.”
“What?”
“Promise me you’ll slow down.”
“I’m not going to promise.”
“Please.”
“We’re not kids.”
“So, promise me.”
“Good God, Jeff.”
“Well.”
“Fine. All right. I promise.”
“Start today. Tonight.”
“I’ve got to work tonight. Start that painting.”
“Don’t you know what you’re going to do with it?”
“Sure I do.”
“Then start tomorrow. You have a promise to keep.”
“I didn’t say I’d start right away.”
“You promised though, and you can wait for this painting. You said so yourself. Besides, Brittany needs you to be strong when she gets home.”
Lewis shook his head back and forth. “All right, stop badgering me. I’ll begin painting tomorrow.” Lewis raised a finger, “At daybreak. Right away in the morning.”
“Deal, just get a good eight hours tonight.”
“Bargain. Then you’ll stop bugging me?”
“Promise,” Jeff said raising one hand and placing the other over his heart. “Now, you want another beer?”
“Sure.” The refrigerator light blinked on, then off as Jeff got two more beers. Lewis glimpsed the light, caught it before and after it went on, could see all the food inside on the shelves, square boxes, packages, bottles, yellows, browns, dark, light.
“Here,” Jeff handed him a bottle. “When’s this series going to be done?”
“Why, you sold it already?”
“Hey, this is a part time thing for me until I finish up with school. I transferred closer to home, what more do you want? When I’m finished, I’ll become you’re personal agent, okay?”
“Sure. Who better than you? That way you can pretend to be me. I won’t have to deal with all those snivelers.”
“God, Lew, they’re not all snivelers, you know. Some of them are pretty decent, others are just doing their job. You can’t blame them, anyway. It’s more of a compliment. They want to see you, talk to you, learn about how you work.”
“See what makes me tick like some lab animal is more like it.”
“That’s not true. Besides, have you thought about the girls wanting to fawn all over the great artist.”
“I have Brit.”
“I didn’t say fuck everybody, I said take it as a compliment. It’s flattering. You could probably use some attention too, get your head out of the woods.”
“For my work, I need to keep my head in-the-woods.”
“Where all your inspiration is.”
Lew looked at his watch.
“Getting late,” Jeff said.
“Not yet, but soon. If I’m going to put in eight hours and still get up by the time the sun does.”
“Don’t forget Brit. They’ll probably release her tomorrow afternoon, too. You’ll need to pick her up.”
“I don’t think I’ll forget my own wife.”
Jeff looked a little embarrassed. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”
“You think I’m totally out of it, don’t you?”
“No, just absent minded sometimes.”
“I’m not bad. I function pretty well.”
“Alone.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing if you’re single. And don’t have kids.”
“I don’t yet.”
“But you will.”
“I’ll change.”
“And if you don’t?”
“Uncle Jeff will be here.” Lew laughed.
“That’s not funny.”
“You worry too much. Brit and I have talked about it. In a normal family, ours for instance, the kids don’t get to see their dads that often. We didn’t see Mom much either, remember? They both worked most of our lives. We made it.”
“But you’re in the loft a lot more time than Dad or Mom was at work.”
“But Brit won’t be. She’ll be right here.”
“She’s not going back to work?”
“She doesn’t want to, and I don’t care. I’d just as soon she were around. There’s plenty to do. She goes shopping, to her mother’s, her friends’, cooks, cleans.”
“Sounds like you guys have talked it over.”
“I’m not absent all the time, just a lot of the time. I work slowly. Van Gogh could whip out a painting, I can’t.”
“Yours are better,” Jeff said.
I felt a twinge of something inside Lewis. He took great pride in his brother’s praise, and that had been a boost to whatever he thought of himself as well as what he felt his brother thought of him. “They’re not that good,” Lew said, still feeling proud, and genuinely satisfied with Jeff’s appraisal.
“You must know they are, Lew, deep inside somewhere, you must.”
“Not really, but I’m glad you think so. I’m glad something I do for the outside world works. I know I don’t work too well out there.”
“So that’s the part of you we get?”
“I’m just lucky you like it, people like it, it could be my only existence in the outside world and be hated.”
“Never, Lew,” Jeff said. “I just think it’d be great if you could bring out more of yourself.”
“I will be soon.”
“I don’t mean in the paintings.”
“I know, I know.”
Jeff slapped his hand to the table. “After the baby’s born, me and Marsha will baby-sit and let you and Brit go out. You can use a night or two together, just the two of you.”
“Brittany say that?”
“Hinted at it.”
“You don’t think Marsha would mind?”
“Naw, you know Marsha.”
“Not really.” Lew looked at his watch again. “I know you’ve been dating her a long time, but you don’t talk about her much.”
“Yeah, we’re always sort of preoccupied aren’t we?”
“If by that you mean the conversation is always aimed at my paintings, yes. There is quite a focus on my work when we talk. It makes me uncomfortable a lot of the time.”
“Does it?”
“Yeah, but that’s okay.”
“Well, Marsha’s a great girl. Like you said, we’ve been dating, off and on, mostly on, for quite a while now. She’s real easy going. Nice personality, smart, I think you know that.”
“Yeah, she probably thinks I’m dumb.”
“No, she takes you as you are. Artistic. You’re not dumb by any means, you just choose not to learn certain things.”
“Right,” Lew sat back and laughed.
“Anyway, she’s perfect for me and I love her a lot.”
“Oh, do I hear wedding bells?”
“Maybe, we’re both careful.”
“Practical.”
“That, too. We’ll wait ‘til we’re out of college, then tie the proverbial, nuptial knot.”
“You guys will be great together.”
Jeff stood up and put his empty beer bottle on the counter. “I’m gonna go so you can sleep. You pro
mised, remember?”
“I remember.”
“It’s a relief Brit’s all right.”
“I know. It scared me when I saw the note. I got pretty upset and worried. All kinds of things went through my head.”
They walked out to the door together where Lew put his hand on Jeff’s shoulder, something he rarely did. They seldom touched at all. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a good father. I won’t let you down.”
“Just don’t let Brit down. She loves you a lot.”
“I hardly know why.”
“That’s not important.”
Lew slapped Jeff’s shoulder once and smiled, “I guess you’re right.”
After the door closed and Jeff was in his car letting it warm up, Lewis went back to the bedroom and got ready for bed. The hum of the car pushed past the closed windows, and eventually the crunch of tires over hard earth distanced and faded. It was a relatively short walk, but Jeffrey always chose to drive. This time the choice had paid off.
Lewis lay back in bed on top of the blankets. The room was chilly and he let the cold touch his body. All was quiet. He remembered back to when he sat against my trunk and called on the Indian. For a time he had gone into common thought, where he imagined the forest and the animals to be slightly askew from the real world. That place where the pointing Indian resided.
How wrong he was. Common thought was the real world, only the Indian was false, possibly in a realm of its own, an imaginative one. In common thought, Lewis could actually see more, hear and smell and taste more. The Indian was a figment, and I was associated with that figment. It was attached to me. He was beginning to mix all his worlds together into one.
CHAPTER 14
A CHILD WAS BORN, Christopher Stewart Marshal, on January the third. Months later, the season folded over from winter to spring. The white and gray turned to yellow and green. Birds returned, chipmunks and squirrels played in the morning sunlight. April produced showers which brought the flowers in May, just as it should be.
Lewis stuck close to Brittany and Christopher those first months. He took a morning walk and an evening walk to think and meditate. He worked a scheduled six-hour day and produced the earthbound paintings he had become more and more well known for. He worked at being the ideal husband and father, changing diapers, washing, cleaning. He still stayed up late and got up early. For days at a time he appeared as though he hadn’t slept at all, though I know he had slept a few, light hours.
As far as his paintings were concerned, they became softer, more nurturing, during that period. Quieter, was the word he used to describe them to Jeffrey, and in turn was the word Jeffrey related to whomever was interested, most importantly gallery owners and magazine editors.
Lewis was an attentive, caring father those first months. Neither dirty diapers, nor vomit bothered him. In fact, Lewis was more able to take care of Christopher than Brittany, in those messier categories. But she knew how to dress Christopher, and shopped often just to fulfill that all important function of making sure he was presentable whenever someone visited, and whenever she had people over.
The parties, “Finally,” she had told Lewis, had begun late that first spring after Christopher’s birth. For Lewis, it suddenly became a time of retreat. Brittany wanted to show off their child, and Lewis “...could stay and talk or go to the loft, or take a long walk,” whatever he chose. Brittany could handle Christopher during parties until he went to bed, at which time Lewis could sneak back to the boy’s room and rock him or just sit with him until he chose to go to bed, or work, himself. Many nights Lewis fell off to sleep in the bedroom chair, Christopher holding onto his finger, the loud party noise winding down in the small living room.
Occasionally, Lewis visited the party, more by the insistence of Jeffrey than Brittany. Jeffrey realized the marketing importance of a visit now and again. He knew that if the mysterious Lewis wandered through the room a little worn for the event, all the better. And on one occasion, Lewis’ appearance was even more of a blessing to Jeffrey. Having been asked question after question about his recent abstracts, and after dodging those questions like flying tennis balls aimed at his head, Lewis announced, formally, that it was Jeffrey they should talk with. Lewis actually hailed the room first, “Hey, hey, everybody,” his arms high in the air, his hands waving inwardly, motioning them closer. “I have something to say.”
Brittany’s face had a surprised look on it. Jeffrey’s looked more like he was in shock to see his shy brother so boisterous, and in front of so many people. Neither knew what Lewis was doing, there was no warning what-so-ever. “Get closer, dammit!” The small crowd tucked in, a few elbows got bumped, but no real drink spillage happened. “I’ve been asked a lot of questions tonight, as I often am at these little events. I have very little to say to them. Why this, and how that, doesn’t even register with me when I’m asked. It isn’t until later, at some odd time: in the woods, at night in bed, at the dinner table, when answers to these questions finally hit me.” He waited. Jeffrey shook his head back and forth slowly in bewilderment. “That’s when I call my twin brother, Jeffrey. I tell him everything, and with this information, he translates the unusual and twisted thoughts I have into something useful and coherent to the rest of the world. He interprets not only with his common sense, but with the other half of my mind, that twin-connection you’ve all heard about. He knows the answers. He knows how I think and what I think.” Lewis pointed at Jeffrey and everyone turned to stare. “Only he can answer your questions.” And that was all. It was over. While everyone at the party was just beginning to relax again, and talk to one another, Lewis left the room and walked up the stairs to the loft. He had set things straight, he had hoped, and Jeffrey was now in charge, fully, of Lewis’ destiny. Jeffrey thanked him for it later, but Lewis ignored him. The job was done. Lewis had done it for himself, for his own sanity, not for Jeffrey.
That night, walking up the stairs, something clicked in Lewis’ head, maybe from the pressure build-up before his little speech, maybe from the pressure of the speech. Something clicked and Lewis saw the wall move, and the stairs shift right. He almost fell, but grabbed hold of the stair rail. He stumbled again near the top of the stairs and grabbed the doorknob to the loft. He swung open the door and fell onto the floor, rolling over onto his back and staring at the ceiling. He closed his eyes for a minute, but the room felt as though it was spinning like a top. When he released his eyelids, the ceiling burst into view through the faded light coming in the picture window at the front of the loft, the window that overlooked the field. A sliver of moon formed minimal light. The visible beams of the ceiling sagged like they were under a great weight. They twisted and creaked. Dust puffs escaped in odd spots along their lengths and Lewis threw his arms over his head to protect himself as they fell toward him. He turned over and scooted closer to the couch, which sprouted a hand and tried to touch him. Suddenly, the lights went on and Lewis screamed.
Jeffrey ran over to him, “Lew, Lew, what’s wrong? I heard you fall or something.”
“The roof, the roof.”
Jeffrey looked up. “What about it?”
“It’s caving in. Look.” Lew pointed.
“Where?”
“Where pieces are falling.”
“My God,” Jeffrey said. He put his arm over Lewis’ shoulder and helped him to the couch.
Lewis’ feet stepped, one, two, three little steps over to the right, then back left. “Tell it to stop moving.”
“It’s not.”
“It is, it is!” he yelled.
“Wait here.” Jeff put his hand on Lew’s knee. “You’ll be okay.”
“Quick, get something to hold the roof up.”
Jeffrey went downstairs and came back up only moments later.
Lewis was deep inside common thought on the one hand and deep inside himself on the other. All I could see inside him was what he conjured up himself from the chemicals mixing and turning inside his brain. Through his eyes, I could see real
ity, and I could see it through Jeffrey’s eyes, too, but it was more difficult to do so.
In a matter of moments, an ambulance came and took Lewis away.
It seems I’m always covering arrivals or departures, but those moments are the most vivid. His departure was quick. He was shivering from non-existent cold. His eyes jutted back and forth, fearful of things that were not there.
* * *
He was back in less than a week. His mind calm, sedated. Jeffrey and Brittany brought him home in Jeff’s car. Brit sat in the back seat with Lewis, holding his hand. Marsha watched little Christopher and waited for them, holding the door as the three walked into the cottage.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Lew waved away all the hands trying to help him into a recliner. The chair gave and creaked as he plopped down.
Lewis was clean-shaven and wore a cotton dress shirt and slacks Brittany had just bought him. On the outside he looked fine, better than fine; he looked like Jeffrey, except for the distance in his eyes. On the inside, he hung in limbo. A man hung by the shoulders from a high tree limb comes to mind, swaying in a light breeze. That’s how Lewis was, just swinging slowly, not on the ground or in the air, connected to reality by a rope and to free fall by the loosening of a knot. When he swung into common thought he wandered into the enchanted forest where he was first able to relax on the pine needle carpet, and when he swung back, he talked, not necessarily coherently. “It seems warm out today. Do we have any peanuts? I’m hungry? Thanks, Jeff.” The medication kept him slightly too relaxed and unable to concentrate.
Jeffrey, Marsha, and Brittany made small talk and rustled around the house. Brittany made lunch while Jeff and Marsha played with Christopher and kept an eye on Lewis.
At one point, Lewis got out of the chair and went to pick up Christopher, then suddenly, on the roller coaster of drugs, felt too loose even to stand up and tumbled to the floor. Jeff caught him before he landed on the baby. Lewis was already gone again, and Jeffrey placed him back in the chair as though he were cleaning up the house and the chair was where Lewis belonged.
“Tell Brit we’re staying the night,” he said to Marsha.
“Are you sure?”
“We can’t leave her alone to worry about both Lew and the baby, she’ll never sleep.”
Terry Persun's Magical Realism Collection Page 15