Chapter Twelve
The Art of Being an Artist
The darkness had subsided as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. It shown through the curtains and blinds that Gerard had drawn to block out such light, but his efforts were weakened later in the morning. He himself realized this as well. He got up slowly and gently trying not to disturb my resting head too much. I was touched that he didn’t mind the placement of my body next to his. It gave me a new sense of trust with him that I hadn’t felt in a long fucking time. It was nice to just be able to do this like this, to not worry about what other people might think or say. I was doing, like Gerard had so to do. I wasn’t forcing myself by any means. I was simply putting into effect the way things were done around this man’s house. That seemed to be his top rule, dos and don’ts, but he never did specify. I kind of liked the rule for these reasons exactly. I was free to be who I was and do whatever the hell I wanted to do.
I opened my eyes when I no longer felt the warmth of Gerard’s body near mine. My whole right side felt chilled and empty, there needed to be something there. I was missing his presence and this scared me a little bit. It wasn’t until Gerard came back that I felt up-beat again and not so alone. He held out his hand and waited for mine to fold into his own. I looked up, the sun beams blinding me and exposing me to the real world. I took his hand and let him pull me up off the couch. I looked around a second and noticed Gerard had cleaned. The place looked very different. I was confused and baffled by the amount of space we were able to use and walk through. The floor had no build up of paint buckets; the many tarps he had laid under his easels were folded and shoved away. It was like a different apartment. Crisp and clean. I wasn’t sure if I liked it. “Gerard…” I began, but he cut me off with a point of his finger in my face.
Still holding my hand, he led me over to the door way and turned me around. I was able to see the whole floor plan of the living room and the kitchen. Everything was neat and tidy. “Wow.” I said with a gasp and a quick suck in of air. “It won’t be this way for long.” He had a devilish tone embedded in his voice. I became excited. I expected nothing. Because really, after the little time I have gotten to know Gerard – what you really have to do with him – is expect the unexpected.
I made no further comment to his last sentence. Instead I sat back and waiting for him to do something. He walked away from the door where we had been standing, looking at his clean and perfect home. Gerard made his way over to a couple of bins that were stacked in the corners. He place the first box on the floor, he struggled a bit with the weight of it but Gerard was strong, I could see it in the muscle that flexed as he put the heavy box down. He moaned and grunted as he picked up yet the second box and placed it on the floor next to the first. He was panting slightly afterwards but he recovered rather quickly. I watched him as he pulled out paint brushes and paints. I took a few steps closer but not much. I didn’t want to invade territory I wasn’t yet sure I could cross into.
Gerard cracked open a new can of fresh paint. The smell immediately hit my nostrils and sent me fluttering through the air. I felt weightless. I smiled and Gerard caught it. He smiled back be refused to look at me. As he continued opening new cans the grin was still mounted proudly on his face. He was happy and that made me happy.
Gerard was something special. I could see that now and I would never forget it. I would never forget him. In my memory he will always be the man who helped me live again, not just the guy from the bar. He was so much more than that now. In the course of just a few days he was able to open up a new realm of opportunities for me. He must have had this as a job, or something. Someone wasn’t just born with the natural talent to heal broken souls. And I was definitely one of those souls, trying to piece myself back together with no one’s help at all. But I now know that you simply can’t do it alone. It’s a two person task. What I had been missing all along was the support I needed. My mother never gave me it, but I’m sure my father would’ve if he had gotten the chance.
It wasn’t every day someone was able to talk so highly about a person, well, I could now. Gerard was my person. I wanted people to know about him but then again I didn’t. It wasn’t anyone’s business and really, I had no one to tell. I wasn’t close enough to mom anymore to give her all this information. Knowing her she would take it as an insult because I didn’t go running to her. The thought of her angry voice over the phone, the static building behind us made me sick. I thanked God Gerard was different. He had to be different from all the other people around me. Over the years I had slowly began to blend in with all the other lifeless begin in the small Jersey province. And one can not be taught by the same type of being they are. In order to learn and be reborn (in my case), I needed someone who was entirely different from me and everything one else – and that it just what I got. Gerard. He was abnormal so far, and I could only imagine what he would be like later on.
His quest was to make me better and allow me to see the good things in life. How painting, art, and uniqueness fit into that, I wasn’t sure yet, but I had a feeling I would learn in time. Just like I would learn who I really am, I know already that I am and will not be the same old Jersey civilian I used to be. I didn’t want to go back to that bleak life. I didn’t deserve to waste my time.
I HEARD A splat hit the hard wood floor, snapping me out of my day dreaming. “Holy shit!” I yelled as I watched Gerard jerk the one paint can up into the air and then pulling it back down to his chest again with incredible force, making the paint splash out and above him, plummeting to the floor and staining the beautiful wood. “What the hell are you doing!?” I rushed over to him only to get bombarded with an army of paint droplets. I gasped when I felt the cold liquid sting my skin and soak in and through my clothing. I wasn’t wearing anything special to me, thankfully, but I was still in initial shock. Gerard was ruining his apartment with the paint which stains anything it touches. I watched, mortified as he continued the motions. The brightly colors paint spilling on me once again. Gerard was also getting attacked by the paint drops he was creating but instead of being totally and utterly distant and shocked he was laughing like a little kid in a candy store and watched the globs of bright yellow paint fly through the air. I stepped up closer to him and tried to stop what he was doing but all he did in response what toss more paint into the air. The movement looked tiring. It made me sweat just watching him. “Grab one!” He shouted. I wasn’t sure why he was shouting, but I followed along. I hesitated, though. I didn’t want to be the reason for the mess. But he was telling me to do what he does. And like he said, it was do or don’t in his place, and right now he was telling me to do. I stood in the corner where the buckets were laid; there were so many different colors I wasn’t sure which to choose. The peach color kept on catching my eye. I just couldn’t resist the pull and do I took the bucket and stood in front of Gerard. Some of his paint splotches mixed into my own but I didn’t mind. Both colors would soon end up remaining together on the floor, blending into each other like the wind and grass.
I paused for a moment, wondering if I really wanted to destroy all of Gerard’s things. He paused along with me, peering over the bucket he still held in his hands to figure out what I was doing. He gave me a book as if to ask me “what are you waiting for?” But there was something stopping me. What he wanted me to do was wrong, not accepted, not normal behavior. But being normal was everyone else’s thing. Gerard knew I liked to think outside the box, I just wasn’t very good at it. I wanted to do this but the things and mannerisms I had been taught my whole life kept coming back at me screaming at me to not do it! I hated those voices, though. I didn’t like them telling me what I could and couldn’t do.
I kept my stare at the opening of the paint can, observing the orange color for what it really was, purpose. I wondered then, what Gerard’s color meant to him. Passion probably. Or maybe everything. You never knew with him. But mine, mine was purpose and Gerard was giving me a purpose to chuck the paint everywhere, anywhere I wanted because that meant I would be expressing myself, being myself doing whatever the hell I wanted to do. I kept my eyes on the rim of the bucket and tossed the can up into the air, making sure not to let it slip out of my reach. The vibrant orange paint splattered the ceiling and came hurtling down upon mine and Gerard’s clothing. Gerard started to laugh and smile brightly. I could see his happy face through the droplets of paint that were falling between us. I smiled back, knowing everything was alright. Suddenly, I got the urge, the abrupt, unmistakable urge. I walked over to Gerard and tipped the paint bucket over his head. I watched the orange goo mingle with his black hair and collide with his black clothing. He gasped as he felt the cold hit him. Much like I had before. His body shivered and the paint dripped down his torso, arms, and legs to the floor. I laughed loud and happily. I had done something devilish too and I was proud of myself for it. When Gerard gained back him composure he decided to pour his yellow paint on me too. I should have seen it coming but I was blinded by my own victory that it hadn’t even come to mind! “Fuck!” I said with a thick laugh embedded I my curse. “Gerard! No!” He took my arms after throwing the paint bucket aside and pushed me over and onto the ground. It was cold against my back. The paint being squished beneath and around my body – I shivered and tried to get up Gerard was on top of me, pinning me down like her had just won a wrestling match.
His lips were twisted into a coy smile. I was emotionless. I only stared at the olive green eyed man and breathed heavily from the excitement. He was propped up with his hands. Our legs were rubbing together, I could feel the fresh paint stain and smudge into his tightly fit black pants. “This is the art of being an artist.” He said out loud and suddenly. I turned my head away from him and looked around the room. He and I had done more damage than I thought. It was mostly from him since I was too nervous to do anything. “Why?” I looked to my other side and saw his Créer mural was ruined with my orange paint I had flung in the air, “Gerard! Your Créer!” I pointed frantically with my hand before looking back into his eyes. “It’s okay.” He said almost at a whisper. “You helped me create something new.” My heart fluttered, especially when he pressed his lips to mine. I knew that this time, it wasn’t just part of a lesson.
