Black Sheep Part 2 - 2. Chapter 2

"Will he be okay?” Jack looks at me from the other side of the room. We're in Vics room, me sitting on the bed, him in the chair at the desk.

“I don't know. Now we hope for the best.” I reach for Vics newest drawing pad and a folded piece of paper falls off the top. Curious as why he would take a leaf out of his pad I open it and see a picture I that fills me with great pain.

The picture portraits me sitting against a tree. The sketch is light, the tree is already detailed out but I am less. I check for the date on it and see he drew this last week, right after he came back from my place. I curse and grab the pad, going through it to see if there are more like these. I find an unfinished one from a couple of days ago but the mess at the binding tells me there used to be more pages between the last two drawings.

I curse, going through the mess at the head of the bed. I find five more pieces, all dated between the first and last one, about two days apart. Some have more detail than others but the sight is the same. Jack joins me on the bed and looks at them.

“Wow. These are very well done. Isn't that you? Why would he redraw that same picture? They all seem fine to me.”

“It's Vics way of a suicide letter.” I take the drawings from Jack who looks at me incredulously. I put them in the pad and turn to Jack, cradling the pad close.

“Why would he draw that as a suicide letter? Looks just like an ordinary drawing to me.”

“It looks like an ordinary drawing to anyone who doesn't know what it is he is actually drawing.” I open the book and take out the last and most detailed drawing. Jack carefully takes it from me.

“This one is amazing, almost like a black and white photograph.” Jack approves the the drawing like I remember I did the first time I saw one.

“As you said, it is me in the picture, but not the me now. This is the me he wants me to become. Vic had a dream a couple of years ago. It was about the same time I got diagnosed with my illness. He told me he had seen me in the future, sitting against a tree in a grand hospital garden. The building in the back is the other side of the garden. If he is closer to finishing he will draw a frame around it, as though looking through a window. He is on the other side.” I sigh as I lean back, my thoughts going back to when he told me about the dream, the days of trouble, but without suicide lurking in his mind.

“What does this have to do with Vic?” Jack turns to me, holding out the picture.

“It means he has given up hope and wants me to keep on living. In his dream he was standing inside the building and as time got on he started interpreting that as that his depression and suicidal tendencies would never be able to get cured. Out of the two of us I would be the only one to get cured.”

“Because he dreamed that you would be cured he has given up on getting better himself? That is insane.”

“Not entirely. He only draws these when he is getting ready to commit suicide. At those moments he believes that it doesn't matter if he dies, one of us will get to live on and in his eyes have a happy ever after.”

“That is crazy. How can you live happy when he is dead?”

“I won't, but at those moments it is not about reality as we see it. It is about reality as he sees it, which is a bit biased.”

We stay quiet for a while, staring off in the distance, both with our own thoughts.

“Do you have more of those?”

“Yes, I have a couple of them at home. I take every one I find and save them. The first one he gave to me though.”

“Must be creepy, knowing he doesn't care about his own life because he thinks you will be happy and cured later. I'm not sure if I could handle something like that.”

“It's not about being able to handle. This is my way of granting his wish. He wants me to know he wishes me to be happy and healthy. By accepting the drawings I accept that wish. I don't agree with it but I accept it.”

I take the drawings from the pad again and put them in my bag.

I stare at my food, my thoughts elsewhere, as Jack knocks on the window of the back door. His sudden return shakes us all from the quiet thoughts we had. Anne quickly opens the door and Jack steps in the house. Soaked through and through, he looks a bit like a drowned kitten. After he takes off his shoes Vics mom hands him a towel and then ushers him to the bathroom for a shower and a change of clothes. I stare after them, comforted by the feeling that no matter how messed up everything is, Vics mom stays the same. I look at Anne from across the table, she seems as lost as I am.

After a couple minutes Vics mom comes back into the kitchen, a grave look on her face. “It seems we have another little problem on our hands. Jack just got kicked out by his parents.”

“What? Why?” I look at Jack who walks right behind her in a dry set of clothes.

“I accidentally admitted to being so down about everything because I was in love with Vic. They didn't appreciate it and threw me out.”

“Seriously? What, are your parents religious or something?” Anne looks incredulous until Jack turns red and nods. “Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know.”

“I told him he could stay here for the time being.” She turns to Jack. “Grab a plate if you would like something to eat and join us for dinner.”

We sit in silence for a while, the only sound the cutlery tapping on the plates.

“Has Tom called yet?” I look up from my plate. Vics mom looks at me, her eyes begging for me to break the silence.

I nod. “Yes, he was very worried.”

“Will he come here tonight or does he have shifts tomorrow?”

“He is on his way, bringing along some of my stuff. And he has late shifts so it will be fine.”

“How long are you planning on staying here, or will you go back with him tomorrow?”

“I think I'll be going back. We live closer to the hospital.”

Anne suddenly drops her fork on her plate and stands up straight. She furiously sweeps food from her jeans, tears rolling down her face. “Fuck!”