“You’re right.” Marsha got up and went into the kitchen. In a moment, the two of them walked into the living room, Brittany carrying a tray of sandwiches, Marsha holding three glasses of lemonade. “You really don’t have to hang around here all day and night, Jeff,” Brittany said. “I do appreciate it, but I’ll be all right with Lew.”
“Did she tell you what he almost did?”
“Yes, but if you weren’t here, I’d have had Chris in the kitchen with me.”
“Still, I’d feel better.”
Brit sat the tray down on the coffee table. “Well, look, stay as long as you like. If you feel comfortable in leaving later, then do that, but really, I’m not worried.”
“That’s fair,” Jeff said.
“If we stay, I need to get us some clothes,” Marsha said.
“That can wait. I think you’ll see everything’s okay,” Brit said.
Jeffrey watched Lewis as he ate. The recliner was leaned back perfect for sleeping, and soon Lewis’ eyes closed and he became still. “What happened in the womb that made him a genius and not me?”
“You’re just different people, that’s all,” Marsha said. “I know I wouldn’t want you like that anyway.”
Brittany looked over.
“I don’t mean anything by it, Brit. But, you’ve got to admit, living with Lew’s got to be a challenge.”
“Not usually. Probably no more than anyone else. He has his moments because he’s around a lot more than most men. Still, he’s fairly preoccupied. He pays attention to us, takes care of us just fine.”
“You insinuated to me that things, well, weren’t going very well,” Jeff said.
“When was that?”
“Right before the baby.”
“Things got better.”
Jeff looked over at Lew, passed out in the recliner. “Have they?”
“Don’t be like that! It’s not his fault he’s like this.”
“It’s no one’s fault,” Jeff said. “It just is. But how can you live like this? How do you survive? I’m not suggesting you divorce my brother, I love him and know that you do, too, and he loves you, but maybe you should think about help. God knows you can afford it. It might ease your mind. You wouldn’t have to worry so much.”
“I don’t worry now, you do!”
“Don’t get mad, Brit, we’re only trying to help.”
Brittany turned her head, avoiding eye contact. Looking over at Lewis, she said, “It’s only the drugs right now, that’s what has him like this. We’re reacting to his present state, not his real self.”
“He had a breakdown for Christ’s sake,” Jeff said. “People like that have relapses. Don’t you know that sort of thing doesn’t just go away easily? Do you know how long he’s been this way? Do you, in your carefree, ah, ah, mode of life? You know how you are.”
“Superficial?” Brit said.
Marsha’s hand moved over to Jeff’s knee to stop him, or calm him down, but he continued. “Not just superficial, but you don’t seem to notice what is going on inside him. He’s your husband.”
“He needs to be left alone.”
“Does he?”
“Maybe I know better than you.”
“Do you know about the Indian pointing?”
“Yes.”
Marsha looked puzzled, her face positioned, as to say what or who the hell?
“Do you know,” Jeff continued a little louder, “that he takes walks in the woods to meet this, this spirit? That he talks to him about his paintings, about what he should paint, how, what to include?”
“No,” Brit said quietly. “I thought that was over with.”
“A temporary illusion?”
“Yes.”
“Well it wasn’t. It isn’t. It’s part of his everyday life. Every day!” Jeffrey emphasized by pounding a finger into the carpet.
Brittany put her hand on her husband’s knee. “Why didn’t he tell me? Why do you know?”
“I’m sorry,” Jeff said. “I went too far. I didn’t mean to bring it up. Shouldn’t have. Please don’t tell him or he’ll never trust me again.”
“Doesn’t he trust me?”
“It’s not that, I’m sure.”
“No?”
“This started long ago, when we were kids. The trees started to have lives of their own. A raccoon spoke to him.”
“A raccoon,” Brittany began to cry. She got up and went into the kitchen.
Marsha stood and followed, but not before she turned to Jeff and said, “This is getting weird.”
Christopher slept on the carpet next to Jeff. Jeff turned him over and picked him up. Christopher began to cry.
Brittany came out and took Christopher from him. “You can stay for as long as you like,” she said, holding Christopher up to her shoulder. “I need to put him down for a nap.” She left the room.
Marsha stood inside the kitchen doorway staring at Jeff. Thousands of questions must have been running through her mind. Her brows were creased tightly, her eyes inquisitive.
“We’ll talk later,” Jeff said. “I’m sorry this happened.”
“Me, too.”
“I didn’t mean to get you involved, Hun.”
“Too late.”
“God, don’t get pissed at me now, I’m in enough hot water.”
“I tried to stop you.”
“I know, I know.” He paused and sighed, looked at Lewis peacefully asleep in the recliner. “I hope I can sort things out with him.”
“You always seem to.”
“It may look that way, but that’s not the case. Besides, if he finds out I said anything, told everything, he may stop confiding in me. Then who will he talk to? How will he let it out? I think the last thing he needs is to hold everything in. That might just make it worse.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, but it makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” Marsha said, “I’m not his psychologist.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
Lewis moaned and twisted in the chair. Jeff looked over and began to stand, then sat back down on the floor where he was. He hadn’t eaten any of his lunch.
“I don’t want to be right, I want Lew to be okay,” Marsha said.
“So do I,” Jeff said rudely, shocked that Marsha would insinuate otherwise.
“Then maybe you should tell his psychologist about all this.”
“She’s probably right,” Brittany said from the hallway. When she appeared, her tears were dry and her face fresh. She had cleaned up: combed her hair and fixed her makeup while she was gone. “Dr. Slater should know all this.”
“Do you think Lew told him?”
“In his condition?” Brit said.
Jeff looked at the floor in response. “Who should tell him?”
“You seem to know everything,” Brit said.
Marsha shook her head when Jeff looked at her for support. “Sorry, Honey, but she’s right. You have all the information.”
“But, if the doctor wanted to know, wouldn’t he ask us?”
“He asked me,” Brit said, “but all I told him was about the Indian spirit, and that it happened a long time ago. I didn’t know about all this other stuff, or about his continual contact with his, his illusion.” She appeared as though she were going to begin to cry again, so Marsha went over to her and held her hand. They walked into the living room together and sat on the couch.
Jeff was quiet. He didn’t seem as sure about what they were proposing he do as they apparently were. “I’m still not sure if it’ll help,” he said.
“It really isn’t up to you to make that decision,” Brit said.
A breeze came through the house and blew across Jeff’s face. It was a cool breeze, filled with the scents of the forest and field. He visibly relaxed. “I’ll do it,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sure that Dr. Slater won’t bring it up to Lewis point-blank. He’ll probably try to get Lew to let
it out a little at a time.”
“I’m sure he’ll do what’s best,” Marsha assured him.
Brittany smiled and patted Marsha’s hands with her free hand. Marsha still held onto Brittany.
The wife and brother, like veins in a leaf, felt equally responsible for Lewis, but each saw things moving in different directions. Brittany thought that complete exposure of Lewis’ thoughts, feelings, and illusions, would save him from those very things, where Jeff felt that exposure would be even more threatening to Lewis’ well being. That Lewis had to decide who would be let in on his little world. But once Jeffrey had promised, it was as good as done, and Lewis was thrust into a number of years of psychoanalysis. Nonetheless, he continued to paint. Nothing seemed to stop him.
CHAPTER 15
LEWIS HAD NOT BEEN BLESSED with a strong enough will to force his own personality ahead of all else inside him. He lacked personal assertion. That was what allowed him to let nature in so easily. He found common thought within himself, and put its personality, multiple as it was, ahead of his own. When he did allow his own personality out, it was for short periods of time only. He functioned in the human world, and then, through a long dark hollow tube. Jeffrey said that Lewis was an introvert. Brittany explained that he was just quiet, always thinking of his paintings. Both explanations were based in truth.
For the next eight years, Lewis went in and out of the psychiatric ward at the hospital twice. His relapses were relatively minor, nothing so horrifying as the first time. He felt them coming on, saw them visually as they approached.
Brittany continued having parties, but they were getting to be too much work for her to handle. She wrinkled quickly around the eyes. Her upturned mouth reversed so that she often appeared to be angry when she wasn’t. The parties got boring. The same people, the same discussions. Lewis almost never appeared and Christopher was no longer a focal point, instead he was off playing with friends or in his room playing alone. Sometimes he sat with Lewis, watching him paint.
It was the enormity of life that caused Lewis to break down, just as it was the enormity that caused Brittany and Lewis’ marriage to break down. Nothing so fragile, built so large, could run perfectly. The love, or need, that Brittany and Lewis once shared deteriorated almost completely before either one had noticed. One day, it was just gone and they both realized it at once.
Jeffrey wasn’t happy with the situation. “So, you’re going through with this?”
Lewis shrugged. He felt happy and sad about the divorce, just as he had felt about the marriage at its beginning. He had once wanted Brittany in his life without totally understanding why. Then, still uncomfortable with them as a couple, he married her. Now, with an equal amount of discomfort, he was allowing a divorce to take place. They had agreed. It had been an easy decision, really. Neither Brittany nor Lewis wanted it to be difficult for the other.
“What about Christopher?” Jeff asked.
“He doesn’t quite follow what’s going on.”
“Sure he does. He’s nine years old.”
“Almost.”
“That’s plenty old enough to understand divorce. Has anyone talked with him about it? Have you?”
“I have. He wants to live with his mother, but he says he wants to visit often. Wants to see his cousin.”
Jeff smiled. “I want him to visit, too. He’s turned out to be a good kid.”
“At least he’s not an artist.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I’m too much trouble anymore.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. Brittany’s had enough.”
“Your heart was never in it. No one can blame you for that. You have your art. Brittany knew that when she married you.”
“She said that?”
“Not in so many words, not to me. She was talking with Marsha one day when she brought Chris over to visit Rob.” Jeff stepped around the kitchen table and pulled a chair out. He moved slowly and rubbed his forehead with his hand after he sat down. “I would like them to grow up together.”
“Me, too,” Lew said. “I’m glad Brit’s not taking the house.”
“You’re paying her enough for a mansion. Besides, I think she wants to move closer to town, closer to her parents.”
“If that’s what’s good for her.”
“Yeah.” Jeff rubbed his forehead again. “So, you’re for this whole thing?”
“Back to your original question.”
“I just don’t know whether I should believe you. You seem a little unsure.”
“It’ll be hard getting along without them,” he admitted.
“Have you told Brittany?”
“She’s basically lived a life alone the last few years. I’ve been traveling quite a bit.”
“Off and on.”
“Yes, and it seems to me that when I’m not traveling, I’m painting, and when I’m not doing either, I’m in the nut house.”
Jeffrey noticeably cringed when Lewis said that. He had protested before about Lewis’ nonchalant expressions concerning his condition. It always seemed inappropriate to Jeffrey, at least that’s what he had told Lewis.
But Lew didn’t care. To him it was a fact of life. He wished it wasn’t, but it was, and it only confirmed his own belief that he wasn’t fully of this life, human life, that is.
“None of that’s true of course,” Jeff said. “I’m sure you spent a lot of time together the past ten years.”
“But not the best of times.”
“Does it always have to be?”
“It should be sometimes.”
“So, what happened?”
“I think I never really accepted that she loved me.”
“What? Of course she did.”
“No, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. She may have loved me, but I never saw it, never accepted it fully. You know what I mean?”
“You never thought you deserved it?”
“Yeah, maybe that. Since I was never really her type.”
“Her type? For Christ’s sake, she loved the shit out of you, you just couldn’t see it. God damn, Lew, you let everything slip because of a lack of self confidence? It that what you’re saying? You’re famous, for Christ’s sake. Doesn’t that increase your confidence in yourself? Doesn’t that build you up?”
“My art is not me.”
“No, it’s everything else.”
“Right.”
“Lew, I hate to break it to you, but there’s more to you than you think, more than just your paintings. I hate to see this happening to you. I know it must be hard.”
“It is, but I think Brit’s right, it’s for the best.”
“Who’s going to take care of you?”
“I can cook and clean.”
“But you need someone around.”
“What, in case I have another breakdown? I’ll tell you when it’s coming, okay?”
“Right. That’s fine. I’ll just wait for that to happen.”
Lewis felt that Jeff had more to say about the subject and was holding back. It wasn’t just the divorce or Lew’s mental health that was on his mind, there was something more. There were other questions he wasn’t asking. “What else is there?” Lew said.
“I don’t know.”
“Something’s bothering you.”
Jeff looked into Lewis’ face, and in complete, naked honesty asked, “Will you be able to paint?”
Lew felt a shock of instant recognition. “You depend that much on my work?”
Jeff’s head nodded, “Pretty much.” He tried to smile, “I get commissions you know.”
“I didn’t really think it was all that much.”
“You’re the star. You have been for a number of years now. Why do you think we did that video for the galleries last year? And the trips, the interviews?”
“Still.”
Jeff shook his head again. “You pay no attention.”
“I try not to think about it. I don’t nee
d the pressure.”
“And now this pressure.”
“No, you’re not a problem. It’s the public, the dealers.”
“Don’t try to convince me.”
“It’s true. I can’t talk to other people very well. I can’t control a conversation the way you do. I need you around as much as you need me. Remember when you were still in college and I had you reading my mail? I couldn’t stand dealing with those people even at a distance.”
“I remember.”
“Believe me, whatever you make from what you do, you deserve. I’d fail miserably without you.”
“Not true. You could get a business manager.”
“One who didn’t know me well enough to speak for me. You’re just as important in all this as I am. You’re the personality. I’m the recluse.”
“I never said that.”
“I did. It’s pretty fucking well true too, isn’t it?”
“You’re funny.” Jeff laughed and shook his head, “You’re probably right. They think you’re a recluse.”
“They’re right.” Lew bent over the table and got close to Jeff’s face, “They’re probably glad, too. I could be an obnoxious fuck-head like some of the other artists out there.”
“True.”
“With you, it’s business, just the way those dealers like it.”
Jeff stared as Lew talked on about their unique situation, how much Jeff’s personality meant to his own sales. How being twins had offered them the added benefit of the public and dealers being able to see the eccentric artist without having to deal with any of his quirkiness. Lewis was in a very articulate state and went on to praise Jeffrey for the salesman and businessman he was, and for their inevitable closeness. “I am the artist in you,” he said. “If we had been born one instead of two, it may never have come out, or it would have been stifled. You are my ‘in-this-world’ common sense, my business mind, my outward personality. You are technology, I am nature.”
“Christ, that was beautiful.” Jeff began to clap. He got up from his seat and hugged his brother. “When we were younger,” he said, “I used to resent your talent, used to hate it sometimes.”
“I used to hate how you were. Always captain of the team.”
“We are like one person sometimes.”
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