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- 03/31/2016
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Toph's Empty Year - 12. Early February
Advancing.
Gary must have made the determination it was time I move on. He would not take no for an answer and we began visiting the gym again. With the absence of Steve nights, we now work out or play tennis in the hours between our jobs and dinner nearly each weekday. I must admit, he was right. My body feels much more alive.
All this, of course, means my campaign to ignore Gary has ended. It wasn’t really a campaign, simply residual hard feelings on my part. I think he got the message and has become significantly changed with me. I don’t get any vibes he’s trying to force me into things, with the exception of gym and tennis. That, of course, is for my own good and mental health.
I am reluctantly beginning to appreciate Gary. Let me try to clarify what I just said. My mind has sort of made a catalogue of things which are unsettling. I think it began with the sudden money appearing in my account. Next, the failure to communicate and explain before his father’s meeting. Then don’t forget the little plot to encourage me to attend the Denny Christmas dinner. Finally, there was Steve’s inexplicable dumping of our relationship.
I don’t blame Gary for all these things. It’s only because he was responsible for two of them; it makes me worry about the rest. I think it’s why I started to freeze him out. There were simply too many of these occurrences where he could have been attempting to manipulate my life.
On the other hand, I have always felt an attraction toward him. It started the first day I saw him. He lit up in beautiful color. And despite everything I said before, he continues to glow, actually more so. It makes me want to trust him. It makes him special to me.
Aside from the little steamrolling he did back in December, he has been the ideal apartment mate and friend. He seems to have a sixth sense, knowing when I need my space. Thinking back on it, he did it for me last fall too. Another thing, he always gave me encouragement back then and he’s starting to again, now that we’re talking.
. . . . . . . .
Weekends inevitably find me in Niles’ park, following lunch with Betty and Big Joe. I don’t even use the justification of discovering New Glory anymore. All my discoveries are right in this little park.
Thank you, Oscar. You have made me realize if I allow myself to search for details, what I discover is often gratifying. For example, the young man who was sitting a few benches down.
Only two months ago, I would have ignored him completely. However, today I took note. I even made a few sketches. He was probably in his mid-twenties, maybe a smidgen older. It was hard to estimate because he had such a boyish face.
You know what I’m trying to say, don’t you? Some people have young faces. This guy will always look younger than his years. I can tell. In any event, he had a pad also. I couldn’t determine if he was writing or drawing with short strokes. The book was not an artist’s pad, but smaller, as a writer might use.
He was very intent on his task and seemed oblivious to his surroundings. After finishing my third sketch, I closed my pad and chose to take a stroll around the park’s path. It would ultimately return me to my bench but give me a bit of exercise. Of course, my real goal was to see what he was putting on his pad.
He never paid mind to my approach but took note when I stopped right in front of him. I was powerless not to stop. The drawing he was creating was astonishingly intricate. I could see he was not using a pencil, but a fine-tip pen, one a draftsman might use. I had seen enough of those at England’s to easily identify it.
He looked up. There was an unsettling absence of calmness. “May I help you?”
He was beautiful, but seemed somehow vulnerable, both shy and vulnerable. Even though physically I could pose him no threat, he was ill at ease.
“I’m sorry. It was rude of me to look at what you are drawing. It appears almost like an illustration one might find in an old book.”
He smiled at me, visibly relaxing. “Maybe because it’s exactly what it is.”
“An illustration from an old book?”
“No.” He was chuckling now. “It’s an illustration for a new book.”
“You write?”
“I draw. Illustrations. For books. Is that a sketchpad you have?”
“Yes. I draw too. These are park sketches I may turn into oils someday.”
“Well, I showed you mine, will you show me yours?”
He was only gently hiding a mischievous smirk. There was more to this boy than my first impression led me to believe.
I handed him my pad. Since he flipped to the back, the first sketches he saw were of him.
“That’s me!”
“I hope you don’t mind. I often sketch people here in the park.”
“No, not at all. These are really quite good.”
He proceeded to carefully study my other drawings too.
“Oh, you captured her feeding the birds beautifully! I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.”
“Christopher, but call me Toph.”
“Nice to meet you, Toph. I’m Ian. Toph, your drawings are very interesting. You say you’ve painted some of these?”
“Yes. Well, only the bird lady so far. But it came out quite well, I think.”
“I’d like to see it someday. It’s Toni.”
“Pardon? I thought you said Ian.”
“No, the bird lady. Her name is Toni. Antoinette, actually.”
I froze.
“I have to leave now, Ian. It was pleasant meeting you.”
“Same here, Toph. Maybe I’ll see you around the park again.”
I needed to escape the park and regroup. Discovering my invented name was truly hers was a chilling and otherworldly experience. Nothing like that had ever happened to me.
There was something about the young man which was indescribable. I wasn’t attracted to him in a physical way, although he was stunningly beautiful. Unmistakably there was a dimension within him which was rare indeed.
I hope he’s in the park again. I’ll need to apologize. He must think I’m more than rude now. I ran off like a scared rabbit. I guess that’s sort of what I did at Steve’s apartment, instead of confronting him. Do I always scamper away when I’m startled or confused? I used to run off from my Euphoric friends with Austin. I even ran off from Euphoria itself, to come here!
I also want to see him because I’d like to make a few more sketches before I paint him.
I need to paint him.
. . . . . . . .
Something Niles told me about Clarissa and Teddy’s upcoming wedding has been slowly eating at me. They are not going to have the wedding or reception in Euphoria. Also, Teddy seems to be a person I’d like to meet. I can’t just blow off their wedding. How would that appear to them? It would be a snub I’d probably never live down.
Clarissa showed guts defying Mother. Teddy was right there supporting her in the best way possible. He took everything away from Mother’s clutching grasp! As a gesture of my trust in Gary, I chose to ask for his opinion.
Here is how it went. We were at his tennis club, drinking water at a small table after an intensely competitive set.
“Gary, I think I’ve mentioned my friend Big Joe from town, haven’t I?”
“The tailor?”
“Yes, that’s him. Well, did I tell you he’s getting married in June?”
“Yes, you thought his father may be sick.”
“Right. I certainly will be attending the wedding. But I’ve also discovered my sister is getting married in July. Do you think I should go?”
Gary paused, wiping his face with a towel. “Hmm. That’s a rough one, Toph. I’d need more information before I could give you any useful advice. You never mentioned your sister to me. How is your bond with her? I know you have strained dealings with some of your family. That became abundantly clear at Christmas. I hope you’ve forgiven me for urging you so strongly to attend. By the way, we need to talk about that. We’ve never cleared the air. Let’s do it one night this week. Don’t you think it would be a good idea?”
“Yes. I’m down for that. Back to my sister Clarissa. We never had a bad relationship. We simply had no relationship.”
Gary reflected on this for a while, drinking water to give himself more time.
“Hmm. Well for her, having you attend the wedding would be gratifying. The problem for you would be the fact that your whole family will be present, which would include whomever you are uncomfortable with.”
“Yes. That’s correct, Gary. Those were my exact thoughts.”
“OK. Let’s try this. Would it bother you to, say, shake their hands one time at a formal setting?”
“Well ...” I had to pause and consider it for a beat. “No. I could do it without any emotional distress, unless it was Clarence and he made a snide remark.”
He chuckled. “Oh? What would you do then?”
“What I should have done before, probably punch him in the eye.”
“Ouch. Well, you wouldn’t want to do that in a church.”
“Why would it be in a church?”
“I was going to suggest you attend her wedding ceremony but avoid the reception. If you met this Clarence, or any other irritant there, it would be for a brief handshake. Clarissa would appreciate your attendance and you could go home avoiding the social interactions of a reception.”
“That’s a pretty clever solution. Thank you. It may be exactly what I’ll do. Of course, July is a long way off. Things could change, I suppose.”
The little chat with Gary showed he was sensitive to my concerns. I believe he justified my trust in this issue. It was a pretty impressive solution and demonstrated fast thinking too. One more plus in the Gary column.
Things got even better. Later in the week we did have our clearing of the air about Christmas. Gary basically apologized, saying he didn’t understand the depth of my hostility because he had no personal experience with anything like it. I guess in Gary’s family, and according to him most families, there may be disagreements, even fights, but blood trumps everything. It’s a bond which is never broken.
Which began me thinking. Has it been me all along? Did I refuse to entertain the idea of a bond with my family? Why was it so easy for me to cast them off? From what Gary said, it’s unnatural to do so. Which, of course, boils down to the real issue. Do I think of myself as an enisled being rather than part of a community?
I fear I am disturbing years of dust, exposing some pretty heavy stuff. I don’t think I am nearly ready to answer such a question. However, I am proud to have even asked it. At this moment in February, it is still too purple a thought to envision Toph ever reunited with Dennydom.
Yet, the thought exists.
. . . . . . . .
Another act of kindness Gary showed was arranging for time-off, a few hours each second Wednesday, for my monthly Tea. Antoinette’s story accompanied me to this month’s TALON meeting. I was tempted to leave it home, to let it decompose in the bottom drawer of my desk. I certainly wasn’t proud of it. However, in the morning, before I left the apartment for work, my mind flashed the image of a frown on the face of my avuncular friend Oscar. There was also the revelation of her name. It was like a sign. I decided to bring the story along with me.
During the meeting, there was no mention of the story, as no one knew of it but Oscar. Naomi did ask about my drawings. As I previously explained, Naomi’s studio was seeing much less of me. I had my sketchpad, as usual, and surrendered it to her. Naomi was studying my various sketches while Abigail held the floor.
“Toph, do you have any type of dream career in mind? You must have some desires. What do you want to do for the rest of your life?”
“My real love is painting. But you’re right, I suppose I’ll need a day job.”
Luke was next. “If you are successful getting into Abington, you’ll probably not have much trouble obtaining a job related to art.”
“I’m thinking it could it be a mistake for me to have such a career.”
“What do you mean?” Oscar was clearly confused.
“What I mean is I enjoy painting. Painting scratches an itch within me. It’s such a fulfilling discovery when a scene reveals itself to me. Would that be the case if it were also my job? I’m wondering if it might be more satisfying to have painting fill what’s missing from another thing I love to do, which would be my career.”
Now I had Naomi’s attention. “What would be such a career, Toph? What is the other thing you would love to do?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m only nineteen. Next month, on St. Patrick’s day, I’ll turn twenty. I’ll know then. It is the age when you suddenly know everything, isn’t it?”
It was my only witticism at today’s TALON meeting. I think it was a success because I detected four half-smirks around the table.
At the close of the meeting, I found Oscar. After slipping him my story, I quickly fled.
The next day I received a text from Oscar asking me to visit him Saturday afternoon for lunch. He asked me to bring my sketchpad. All my time is free time now, so Saturday found me at Oscar’s for another light meal. This time he showed me around his place. Oscar lives in another old house, not quite so large as Abigail’s. Its grounds are impressive. It must have been situated in the middle of at least a triple lot, probably more. Large shrubs hid most of its beauty, which unfolded as we passed the gate and strolled around the building.
He talked about life here, about his deceased wife. They never had children, which he regrets greatly. We discussed literature and loneliness. Oscar is easy to chat with. Our age difference does not seem to offer a significant barrier. Of course, since I am Euphoric, I had a splendid education. I could nearly keep up with the dazzling array of topics with which he seemed so familiar. I suppose writers need this eclectic reservoir to drink from.
Later, Oscar and I sat on an intricately patterned limestone patio overlooking the huge yard and pools behind his home. I’m sure this is where he writes. It is peaceful and beautiful. It might also be a lovely place from which to paint. Oscar smiled as he returned my story to me. He said he liked it, but proceeded to give me a two-hour lesson in English. Since I was Euphoric, it could only be I was absent that day in high school.
My homework was to rewrite the story. His chief problem wasn’t the atrocious grammar, but certain phrases he threw away because they did not advance the story. On the other hand, he had several question marks inserted between sentences where he claimed there was vital information missing. The missing parts also prevented the story from advancing. Who would have guessed there was a story to advance? He carefully explained the sole purpose of the rewrite was to give me experience. He never quite told me what he meant. Oscar himself left me with vital information missing.
In any event, unless I wanted him to, he didn’t need to see the revised story. He strongly urged me to actually do the revisions though. He was telling me this while examining my sketchbook.
“However, my dear young Toph, I do want to read your next one.”
“My next one?”
“Yes, the one you’re going to write about the young man in your latest sketches.”
He passed my pad to me opened to a sketch of Ian.
“Oh, him. Yes, I was going to paint him.”
“Of course you are. How could you not?”
“How can you be so certain?”
“What color do you see, Toph?”
“Light coral. Wait, how did you know?”
Oscar patted my hand while gracing me with a fatherly smile.
“What does this color mean to you?”
“Beauty, innocence and confusion.”
“What color surrounds love for you, Toph?”
“I’ve never been in love.”
“There must have been some moments when you felt love, however briefly.”
“I think I felt it the last night I was with a friend back home. I think I felt it the last nights with my former boyfriend. These were fleeting. Oscar, do you think I’m incapable of love?”
“Not at all. From what I’ve seen, I think you are more than able to love someone. For some reason you might be afraid. Caution is good; fear is not. Did you see the same color in those fleeting moments?”
“Yes. It was a warm comfortable crimson which enveloped and calmed me.”
“You are certainly capable of love, Toph. Proceed slowly and carefully.”
I chuckled. “Oscar, ‘slow’ is my middle name.”
I began packing up to leave when he stopped me.
“Remember, you have two things to bring to the next TALON meeting. The finished painting from your sketches of him, and the story of your young man. This time, since he is so young, I’d like your story to look a little into his future rather than confining itself to the past.”
“Oscar, you are asking an awful lot of me.”
“Not at all, Toph! Can’t you hear it? Your mind is screaming at you to do this. I’m simply putting it to voice.”
And so I left Oscar’s with another anxious feeling coursing through my body. He always seems to achieve this with me.
. . . . . . . .
Sunday found me in the park again. There was someone making balloon animals for eager children. Parents were talking with each other as their children surrounded the colorfully dressed magician. I was busy making several sketches of the scene and did not notice him sit down next to me. When I looked up, I was surprised to find Niles at my side.
“Hello, Toph. A fun Sunday in the park, no?”
“Niles! I didn’t see you arrive.”
“You were too involved in your sketches, which are impressive.”
“I’ve been changing my approach a bit. I make lots of sketches of everyday life in the park. If I feel emotionally connected, I paint the scene.”
“Speaking of emotional connections, how about us?” Niles placed his hand on my leg, looking me carefully in the eye.
“I don’t know Niles. I’m still a little depressed about my last failure.”
“You realize it’s not healthy to have it cause such a derailment in your life. Whatever it was isn’t going to change. The longer you wait, the more ingrained the concept of failure will become. A breakup shouldn’t be considered one man’s failure. It’s always more complicated. Do you have any issue where you believe you, specifically, failed?”
“No. I was surprised and still can’t figure out what I did, except refuse to go to my family’s Christmas dinner.”
“Don’t you think it seems a little thin for a breakup?”
“Yes. Absolutely! It’s what has me so confused.”
“Then stop blaming yourself, Toph. If Steve wouldn’t tell you why he broke up with you, then he’s embarrassed or guilty. Neither of those reactions have anything to do with you. They are his problems. Why are you carrying his problems as your cross?”
“I never thought of it that way. You make a lot of sense, Niles. Thank you.”
Niles smiled. “I can think of a better way to thank me.”
I gave him a wry look. “Oh?” That made him laugh.
“Well, I’m not quite sure what you thought I meant, but how about a little ride down to the riverfront and maybe dinner. We can – er, talk.”
“Only on the condition we go as friends.”
“I was hoping we could date a little to see where it went.”
“I like you Niles and know you were hoping it would be different. I appreciate all you’ve done for me and have seriously thought about the two of us. But honestly, to be perfectly fair to you, I’m not feeling the connection. It’s simply the way it is. So, will you now remove the riverfront offer from the table?”
“No! I enjoy your company. I’ll behave.”
“As long as dinner is at a small, unimposing place. I’m a little gun-shy of fancy restaurants on the river.”
“We can do that.”
Niles and I walked to his car to head downtown. He drove directly to the city’s riverside park. Instead of squatting on another bench, I steered us to stroll the wide path following the river. We shared the afternoon with walkers, joggers, some skateboarders and a few bicycles. Reflecting their energy, our conversation never ceased. Niles is easy to talk with.
Nearly halfway on our return, Niles followed me onto a small, empty overlook platform. I stood, watching the river flow by. He stood beside me, his right hand over my left on the railing. He was warm, he was close and his aura flooded my senses.
“The river is similar to my feelings, Niles. The mercurial patterns, here shining, there dark, are a reflection of what churns inside me. My life is flowing faster than I can make sense of it. Sometimes I am on the brink of out of control. I realize I began a cascade of events when I fled Euphoria. And now – now perhaps it has turned into an avalanche. One which I cannot control.” He placed his arm over my shoulders.
“Maybe you are trying to do too much by yourself, Toph. Perhaps you need someone to share the burden. Someone to help you make sense of life.”
“And who would that be, Niles?”
“Let’s find a place to eat. We can discuss this over dinner.”
We walked to a Crab Shack on the river’s edge. Not that I would ever eat anything from this river, but it was the chain’s name. It was a very informal restaurant with considerable noise, but tables far apart. We each ordered a bucket of crab and glasses of Steam beer.
A bemused look came over his face. When the waiter left, Niles pointed to my wallet. “That must have been one of Nico’s IDs, Toph.”
“Yes. You’ve seen them.”
“Before your Nico, his sister was famous for them. I owned one of hers. I’ll bet Popendropolis makes them for the state.” He laughed heartily.
Amidst crab shells and lemon wedges, Niles scattered the debris from my brain. I admitted to enjoying his company. I also admitted to seeing no colors in our relationship. While he made me realize I needed to move on beyond the comfortable straightjacket of Steve’s relationship, I made certain he realized it could not be with him.
He was sad but I’m sure it was exactly what he had expected. I was pretty clear earlier and Niles is very perceptive. He must have known all along where this was leading. That he did, yet still encouraged me to find someone to share my burden, revealed him to be a true friend. When we returned to Niles’ park, I stole one of his lovely kisses to remember him.
Farewell Niles, I don’t know if I’ll ever meet you again. You have altered my emotional outlook. You have put my life in better perspective. You have given me the courage to move forward.
Farewell friend.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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