Go To:
Part onePart two
Part three
Part four
Part five
Part six
Behind the scenes!
---
* * * Part five * * *
* * * Part five * * *
He hadn't felt this lonely since he was eighteen. But why? What had happened? And what was the point of his wife's death, and his daughter being lost? He could not submit to all this, he did not wish to run away. His life so far had been such a blessing!
Every day, he sat around, thinking about his life. And during this, he was dreaming. He dreamt a lot - and, after all, what helps you dream more than love? He loved his wife and daughter.
'At least I should be happy I survived', he thought. His name was Thomas, but he was used to being called Tom.
Tom lived alone now, in a flat. It wasn't much of a living, actually, and he spent more time away than at home. His place had only one room and a small bathroom. He mostly spends his time out in the city - doing only he knows what. His neighbors don't know much about him. Thinking about this, he realized how much has changed since the accident: his whole life, apparently.
It took some time for the tragedy to sink in, but, eventually, he began to take walks, and think, and dream - like he used to, only now he was alone. He enjoyed thinking about the past; but, after some time, he felt it was wrong: Tom wanted to move on. He wished he could find a purpose for his leaving again. Why couldn't it be love?
'It's too painful to go back to my spiritual life. I can't face it, I'll never be as honest and calm as I was.' He could feel his heart wasn't beating as slowly and imperceptibly as it did in his happy, fullfilling past. Somehow, he still wished to be of use. And he wanted his use to express his inner self.
So he traveled much of his time. During days, or nights, Thomas wandered around the city looking for something - even he didn't know what that was. But during those times, he felt the city's heartbeat, and the hundreds of thousands (even millions) of human beings walking its paths. It was forever alive, never dead. How could he not survive? Life was all around him.
'To be fair, it's not the kind of life I'm interested in, but perhaps I can be.'
So he tried. He spent weeks around the city without coming back home, looking at people, trying to see what life is all about. Maybe this way he could understand more; and he was in no rush - Tom had nothing to lose. Nothing but his life.
After a while he enjoyed this traveling, and he thought he could show the world what he sees. He could show them the real city. But how? He couldn't be happy ever again, and that's how it felt.
'So, how about expressing it indirectly', he thought.
It was worth a chance, and Tom decided to be an artist. He did not wish to be succesful, he wished to see the world in his work, and maybe others could see it too!
So he began. Wandering the streets, in search for nothing but himself. The city was an infinite source.
Somehow, he didn't know why, he always returned home by tram. He enjoyed the ride, and tram drivers were much more pleasant than any others. They were quiet people, relaxed, kind, and willing to talk to him. In doing this, he became friends with many, many people. Always, when a tram passed by him, the driver said 'hi', or 'hello', or 'good day', and he replied. On the road back, he showed them his work, and each of them had a different opinion from the others, and always encouraged him. He started to know a little bit about the lives of all of them, but one had it quite similar to his own.
His name was Bernard, but everyone called him Ben. He had two children - a boy and a girl, both had moved away some time ago, and he had lost his wife too, long before Tom did. They got along really well, and Tom saw that his presence always lifted Bernard's mood. He looked better then the day they had met.
'At first, I had thought you were a beggar', Ben confessed.
'I was a tram driver myself. But I'm not surprised that you thought so, honestly. I haven't worn different clothes since I lost my wife. I'm raising money to buy some, soon.'
Tom was poor. He had lost his job the day after the accident - he was so desperate he couldn't go to work. He was depressed. God only knows how many days passed until he could come back to his senses. Now he raised money by selling some of his work cheaply. It seems he had a gift for it, because people usually asked him for orders. He did decoratives to sell - all sorts of objects, and, of course, he could do something they asked for. But only if it didn't take much time. He was devoted to art, and he did not want to be paid for specific things. He wanted to work freely, like any artist would. And he didn't charge much: only as much as he needed to make a living.
---
'Was there anyone else involved in the accident?' he asked dad, hoping he'll get a useful answer. He didn't want his father to know why, he didn't want to trouble him. Not when he was just getting back on his feet. It's been a long time since their mom's death, and this is the first serious attempt to move on he had done.
'Not that I can remember. And I can't remember much.'
Andrew looked around their house. The place had changed. He bought some things, and it looked like he planned to do work at home as well. They sat and talked.
'What are all these for?' Andrew wondered.
'I'm trying to paint some things. I've got this friend, he gave me the idea. And I said why not? It'll give me something to do. So I'll give it a shot.'
'That's great. I'm really glad you have a preoccupation. You needed one.'
His son was sad, and he could see that. Bernard made the decision:
'Listen, son. I've been waiting to tell you this for quite some time: you can live on your own now. I think you should. You've been the best child I could ask for, but you need to move on. I'm much better, as you see, and I can handle living alone from now on.'
'Can I really?' Andrew had waited for this, somehow. He wished to move away, and he could come see his father at anytime. Maybe he'd move in with his sister and Susan for a while, he liked the idea.
'Of course! I'll be alright. I can even help you pack, when you're ready.'
'I'll let you know', spoke Andrew.
He thought he'll ask Lilith to share her room. 'What a great idea', he told himself; he felt this way he could spend more time with Susan. With school and his father, he wasn't able to meet her that often. Maybe this way he could be there when she was depressed, and he could help Susan get over her loss.
'Dad... Thanks!'
---
TO BE CONTINUED...
TO BE CONTINUED...
No comments:
Post a Comment