Post by KiddoFreak on May 28, 2007 1:10:42 GMT -5
Rays of sun beat down on the grass dancing in the breeze. The wind wandered restlessly all over the field and the trees whispered in admonition of the din of singing birds. All the ground was green and the sky was blue, freckled with the occasional lofty cloud. It was a bright afternoon for the world and all was well in the little hometown of the two teenagers lazing about in the grass.
Violet giggled as the grass mischievously tickled her bare arms in her pastel tank top; her hand lay softly atop Neal’s, their fingers in a slow dance of their own. They didn’t need to concentrate on anything at that moment, so they kept their minds on each other. Oblivious to the world around them, the children simply lay among the glowing plants and buzzing insects, letting it carry them somewhere far away. Somewhere they could remain happy as they were.
“That one looks a bit like a heart doesn’t it?” inquired the girl, after catching one of the lonely clouds with her sky-blue eyes.
“Not even,” Neal chuckled, “it just looks like a cloud to me, like a big glob of marshmallow or something.”
“You have no imagination, do you?”
“I use the gifts I was given; unfortunately, you’re going to have to be the creative one. I’ll just sit back and make fun of all your ideas.”
Violet sighed, “What a friend, you are, Neal, what a friend.”
A grin spread across his face and he turned his head to take in the girl’s face, a bit self-conscious about his sarcasm around her, “I know, aren’t I great?”
It must have been an hour that the two children sat there, lost in their innocence and the innate beauty of the world. Neal enjoyed glancing at the girl’s brown hair sprawled about the ground all around her shoulders. Violet just enjoyed feeling the elements on her face and the warmth of this boy’s hand under her own. The hours passed and they hardly noticed the sun beginning to set. So focused were the two upon each other that they failed to notice another two teenagers walking up. Violet and Neal started and their hands snapped apart at the sound of a male’s voice.
“The two lovers, again, I see. I told you they’d be here, Sis.”
The new arrival made a face that seemed to show a mild disgust. It was only for a second and Neal probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t known this particular boy for the majority of his life. Neal groaned and he rolled over to face the voice, “So logic and reason rears its ugly head. I figured you’d show up eventually,” Neal stood up and clasped hands with the other boy, a friendly smile on his face, “How are ya, man?”
James and Tanya were two of the oldest friends that Violet and Neal had. They were fraternal twins and seemed incredibly similar. He and his sister had the same silver eyes and dark brown hair. Tanya’s eyes glittered in the failing light and a big smile touched her ears. James rarely smiled.
“We’re fine,” he bluntly replied. Tanya gave her brother a little shove.
“Speak for yourself, I’m doing great!” She kept meeting Violet’s eyes and then glancing over at Neal, they started to giggle a bit playfully hit the other girl’s shoulder. “We didn’t mean to interrupt—“
“You’re not interrupting anything,” the words nervously tumbled out of Violet’s mouth. Tanya just smiled a little wider.
“We didn’t mean to bother you two, but James wanted to talk with you, Neal, and I thought it would be a great time for some… girl talk,” more giggling, “with this little lady, so…”
“Can’t that wait?” asked Violet, unconsciously shuffling closer to Neal. Tanya looked about to concede, but her brother put up his hand and interrupted.
“No,” He gazed coolly at the other boy, “it’s important.”
Tanya linked arms with the other girl and herded her off, waving back at the boys while they walked off. Violet looked back almost apologetically at Neal just before they entered the small wood separating the park from the rest of the neighborhood. He caught her eyes and nodded a bit, forcing a smile through an ominous feeling in his stomach. The sun had set now, and the wind no longer seemed friendly. James just stared at Neal, scarcely blinking.
“We need to talk. It’s about Violet.”
* * *
When we got back to Violet’s house, she offered me some chocolate, which I of course snapped up before we ran off to the living room and cuddled up in blankets on her big couch. It was so… comfy. I loved her house, it was so warm and cuddly and… unique. Paintings plastered the walls throughout most of the house, a plethora of windows into alternate worlds. Normally, the abundance of stained glass windows added a certain luster to the interior, though I didn’t really notice them at night.
We talked for a while about nothing in particular. Those are my favorite times; you really get to know people based on how they talk about nothing. Violet loved to write and paint and… express herself through so many different things. If you looked closely, you could see a little twinkle in her eyes when she talked about that latest idea she had, or that poem that got published. Something felt different tonight, though. As much as I hated to admit it, James may have been right this time. There was no twinkle left in this girl’s eyes. Something was killing her.
The thought of it forced me to concentrate on maintaining my smile. Violet needed someone to rely on tonight; I had to be that person. James always had to cut right to the problem and fix it. I knew that the better way to deal with problems was to sort them out, smooth out the edges, and find a compromise. Logic couldn’t solve everything. That’s part of what made this so hard. James was always so good at solving things without emotion, sometimes it helped not to feel very much. Finally I worked up the courage to say something.
“Violet, is there something you need to talk about?” She didn’t say anything at first. Her eyes lost focus as the girl lapsed into thought. Her mouth opened, but she must have thought better because she closed it and looked at her hands which she began wringing nervously. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Violet just choked down a sob and kept her gaze averted..
“It just gets hard sometimes, you know?” I could tell she was having trouble speaking, her voice was hardly audible and it wavered as she fought not to cry. She struggled to speak, but she was finally able to whisper, “I don’t know how to feel. I can’t help but feel like he’s keeping me back. Neal used to inspire my best work, but it’s getting so… draining. I haven’t finished a single painting in a month. I have this idea in my head that I can’t get out and it’s all I can work on.” Violet motioned towards an easel on the other side of the room. A large canvas rested on it, covered in light pencil markings. It was completely devoid of any color. I stood up and walked over to examine it a bit more closely. Apparently, Violet had tried to draw two people in a number of different ways and has erased them all. I could see the faint markings of two bodies facing each other at some distance, another with them talking, another with just two faces, and now she had on that canvas the two faces leaning towards each other, prepared to kiss each other.
“I don’t know how to feel about him. I know I have feelings, but are they what he wants? Can I make him happy? Can…” She took a deep breath, I could hear how labored her breathing was, “Can I be happy with him?”
“Listen, Violet, sometimes love can be confusing…”
She almost yelled, “It’s not love!” and then she returned to her quiet tone, “at least, I don’t think it is.”
We just sat in silence for a time, me by the canvas, her on the couch. My heart really went out to her but I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t often that I was at a loss for words. She finally looked up at me. Her eyes were red and tears stained her face. Running to me, we embraced each other and I did my best to comfort her as she sobbed into my shoulder. I don’t know how long it was before she finally spoke again, but I had never heard her so pained in all of our time together.
“If I know how he feels then maybe I can figure all of this out. I just… need to hear it from him.” I was willing to stay with her for as long as she needed me.
* * *
I decided to be blunt, “You need to stop seeing her.” Neal’s face initially looked confused, but it slowly morphed into something more potent, wrathful.
His words seethed out of his clenched teeth, “How dare you tell us what to do? We’re in love and there’s nothing you can do to change that!”
“Oh, really? Has she ever told you that she loves you? Have you ever even told her?” He just glared; I could tell he was scrambling for something to say and coming up with nothing, “that’s what I thought. Were you aware of the fact that she missed another exhibition today? Did you even know that your little “together” time kept her from it?”
“So what? It was her choice to stay here, and do you want to know why she made that choice?” I was about to speak, but he cut me off when I opened my mouth, “it’s because we love each other. No, we haven’t told each other, but that’s the thing with emotions. You don’t have to talk about them, you feel them.”
“Neal, there were important people there today, people that could have gotten her out of here. People that could have made her a successful artist. She’s destined for greatness, and you’re holding her back.” That was the first time I had seen Neal sneer at me.
“Oh, that’s right. I guess I forgot that you just don’t understand emotions. Sometimes I forget that you don’t feel them, sometimes I forget that you only look human.”
I had had enough. I lunged at Neal and tackled him to the ground, bringing my fist crashing into his face. Immediately, I regretted my lapse of clear judgment. Neal was bigger than me and he effortlessly rolled us over, landing a number of his own, substantially stronger punches on me. I could feel his rage, his pain every time he hit me. But I was tired of being tread on, I would be heard. In my own fit of rage I screamed, “She’ll never love you, you two will never be together! Ever!”
Neal stopped hitting me. In a moment he stood up and turned away. Forcing myself up through the pain in my body, I stood up. I spit some blood out of my mouth. It didn’t do much good; I felt blood running profusely from my nose and out of a number of places in my mouth where his fists had met my teeth. I took a second to regain my composure before I said anything.
“You’re wrong, Neal, I have plenty of emotion. The difference between you and I is that I know how to manage mine to keep other people from getting hurt. I do the logical thing, though you’re impulsiveness is contagious,” I paused, but he didn’t say anything, “You’re hurting her, and you know it, even if you don’t want to see it.” I waited a few minutes before I realized he was dead set on ignoring me. I started walking away, but I turned back, “Tanya told me about the plans you’ve made with Violet. Tell her what you feel and then cut it off. Do the right thing, for her sake.” I left him there, motionless, swimming through his own thoughts.
* * *
The canvas seemed to mock me. I had no idea what to turn it into, and I suspect that it knew it. I drifted in and out of focus, and I found myself reminiscing on the past. For some reason, it all felt incredibly important lately. This feeling of urgency told me to treasure the memories while I still could. It was hard to explain, but a few memories really nagged at me. They were all about Neal. One of my favorites was of when he used to look deeply into me with those intense eyes of his. With a pencil, I sketched them into one of the faces.
It was in these moments I knew that he cared for me, it was those moments that all that fog rolled away and I wasn't unsure anymore. We would just be comfortably talking about whatever - sports, computers, art... anything, really, but then he would get really silent and he would get distant. With a single glance into my eyes, a strange sensation would wash over me. Green emeralds pierced through my soul, as if they were picking me apart and cherishing what they found. Neal would then reach out his hand and touch my cheek. His palms were always warm - like fiery passions were swimming through his blood. These were the only times I had ever known him to hug anyone, and it was nearly heaven every time he put his arms around me. There was something I always wanted to ask him at those moments, but I could never quite find the words.
I was happy just going over these instances in my mind for awhile, but I soon remembered that I had plans today. Glancing at the clock, I realized I would be late even if I left right now. In a rush, I grabbed my hairbrush as I ran to the door and quickly ran it through my unkempt mane. Quickly, I grabbed my house key off the table and tore open the door... only to be met by the fierce chill of a late autumn evening. Heading back inside, I slipped on my jacket before charging off towards the point of rendezvous. The journey felt like it had taken forever.
Sure enough, he was there. Neal stood with his hands in his pockets with his back against the brick wall of the restaurant we were meeting at today. He exhaled while staring at the sky - the breath plumed out in a big white cloud. As I neared, he noticed me and turned his head to meet me. A clumsy grin unwittingly spread across his face. Once I had gotten within his earshot, I realized I had to say something.
"Have you been waiting outside for me this whole time?"
“Yeah, I got our names in, but I like days like this. To most people, they’re miserable and cold, but to me they make everything beautiful seem even brighter.” He smiled a bit; I think I did, too.
“You should have just gone inside; you’ll catch cold out here. It’s freezing. Strange how fast the weather changes around here…”
"It's no big deal. But come on, now that you're here there's no sense in sitting out here anymore." And with that he started towards the large glass doors. I noticed he moved a little slower than usual and his steps had lost their sense of purpose. My mind didn't tell my legs to move for a few moments. It was only then that I hustled after him. He was already inside by the time I reached the doors. Neal had stopped on the other side, waiting for me yet again. As I touched my hand to the glass, he turned his eyes toward me. Perhaps it was an illusion in the glass, but they seemed much less intense than I remembered them in my memories. Finally, we were both inside and, thankfully, the building was well heated. The cold saturating my body was washed away almost immediately.
Within a few minutes, we had been assigned a table; we had been seated near the middle of the dining area. I could feel the knowing smiles of all of the old couples eating together that sat around us. Neal wasn't acting like himself. He just stared at the table with a distant look in his eyes. I finally broke the silence.
“Hey, are you with me today? You seem quieter than usual.”
“Yeah, I guess I’m just cold. Oh, here comes the waiter, what are you going to order?”
I ordered a salad that had an interesting name while he ordered a mushroom burger. I couldn't remember if he had told me his taste had changed but I was sure that he told me he couldn't stand mushrooms. I shrugged it off; after all it wasn't like he had to tell me everything. Once we had gotten our orders, our customary small talk began. We started by talking about football. One of the more famous players had starred in a recent movie. Before we discussed it, he wasn't very fond of the plot, thinking it was too hard to follow. However, I explained that the whole thing was symbolism for something a lot deeper. What I picked out of it all was that the plot had shown that perfection was subjective. Every person had a different idea of what was right and what was wrong and thus had different ideas about what was perfect. When I asked him what he thought of it he became really quiet again. We just sat in silence for a long time, finishing our meals. His hand had been tightly grasping his cup of water the whole time.
"You know, that's why you're so cold. Just let go of your drink for awhile and you'll warm up in no time. Geez, you can't feel better if you don't do something about yourself." I wondered what I had said, because his eyes instantly glazed over and he grew incredibly distant at my words. Neal just nodded and slowly took his hand away from the glass and sat back in his seat. It was only then that I realized he had been very tense throughout the whole meal. Soon enough, the waiter came back and gave us our check, which Neal paid for quickly before getting up and leaving even faster.
It was all I could do it keep up with him. This time, he had made it all the way to the door before I could catch him. He could only take one step outside before I caught and held his arm. The cold washed over me again and I had forgotten my jacket at the table in my hurry but I didn't want to take my hand from him for fear that he would run off.
"What's wrong with you? Why have you been acting weird all day? This isn't like you at all!" I hadn't meant for my words to be so sharp.
With sad eyes, he turned towards me once more; they darted back and forth between my own. Green emeralds pierced my soul, cherishing every moment. I could tell he was reminiscing. He reached out and touched my cheek. His touch startled me, but I couldn't tell why at the moment, I was too caught up in those precious orbs. Before he could hug me this time, I finally found the words I had been looking for.
"Can you tell me, Neal, can you tell me what you think of me? Of us?"
He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. His hand left my skin and he turned and walked away. I didn't move—it felt like the cold rushing through me was due to the frozen fears gripping my heart. Neal was in the distance then, and I could hardly make him out against the white sky. I was only then that I realized what was different this time: his hands had been as cold as death itself.
* * *
The bridge loomed in the distance. It was the only route I had ever used to leave the town. It was one of the only places I felt welcome right now I had been walking for hours and it was very dark by now. Even the moon seemed ashamed to be near me as it hid behind thick cloud cover. Why was everything falling apart?
I done everything for them that I could. There was nothing left for me to give. I loved each and every one of my friends, but I had only been met with apathy… and confusion. James was right; I had been refusing to see what I was doing to Violet. My feelings were too much for her to handle; they were too much for anyone to handle.
I was finally there and the bridge welcomed me with its cold rails. I felt horrible for what I did to all of them, but I didn’t know how to live any other way. Maybe I shouldn’t be alive anymore at all. Taking a deep breath, I climbed up onto the rail.
“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done… especially to you, Violet. I just wanted you to love me. I did everything I could to make me the only focus in your life. I’ve ruined everything.”
They could rebuild themselves when I was gone. I could hear the water rushing by in the river below. I had always wanted to follow it somewhere and see where it would lead me. I cried a little bit before a harsh wind began to blow. In a way, it was redeeming. It stripped me of everything until I was completely devoid of emotion.
Neal’s carcass let go and plunged into the comforting embrace of the waters below.
* * *
The three friends stood around the painting, just looking at it. Voices of museum-goers filled the hallway. It was brightly lit by exquisitely-crafted chandeliers and the white marble seemed especially clean around this particular exhibit. Paintings lined the walls, windows into new worlds of vivid colors and emotions. Violet had her signature on every one of them.
James gave her a pat on the back, “I knew you could make it one day. You’re a great artist. You deserve every bit of the fame that you’ll get.”
Her eyes stayed focused on this particular painting, never wandering. “You’re very kind, James, thank you.” Tanya turned her eyes toward Violet, staring intently.
“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” she inquired. Violet sighed and finally tore her eyes from the canvas.
“Can you believe it’s been almost twenty years since any of us have seen him?”
James turned around and walked away when Neal came up. Tanya followed him with her eyes before hugging Violet.
“Time seemed to speed up after he was gone, at least for us. I think James still blames himself for what happened.” A strong wave of grief washed over the artist at Neal’s memory, though it only lasted long enough for her to shed a single tear.
“I just wonder if things could have been different. We were having a hard time, but we could have worked things out, I know it… It took me years to accept what happened. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I guess when I finally finished this, I felt like I could move on.” Tanya gave her one last squeeze before she turned to go.
“I’d better go talk to James; you know how he can get. You should go back to your new fans and mingle a bit. These memories are a lot to deal with, but you’ll get through them.” Violet nodded and Tanya walked off after her brother. The artist took one more look at the painting before shuffling off back to the crowd.
“Goodbye, Neal…”
The painting would become one of Violet’s most famous. They say it took her years to paint and was the only one she ever struggled with. Others say that it was painted to honor one of her best friends from her childhood. The true story, however, was that it was that Violet couldn’t finish it until she had looked deep inside of herself. The artist claimed that she had never meant for there to be any deeper meaning behind the painting then the painting itself, but that is rarely the case with painters as talented as Violet. People came from around the world to see the bright painting of two figures in a silent embrace, melding into one. The vivid colors brought different emotions to different people, but they were all fiercely powerful. The green eyes of one of the figures once reduced a hardened general to tears. In time, people forgot Violet’s story but even after her signature had faded from the painting, Neal’s eyes continued to pierce into the lives of all who looked upon him.
Violet giggled as the grass mischievously tickled her bare arms in her pastel tank top; her hand lay softly atop Neal’s, their fingers in a slow dance of their own. They didn’t need to concentrate on anything at that moment, so they kept their minds on each other. Oblivious to the world around them, the children simply lay among the glowing plants and buzzing insects, letting it carry them somewhere far away. Somewhere they could remain happy as they were.
“That one looks a bit like a heart doesn’t it?” inquired the girl, after catching one of the lonely clouds with her sky-blue eyes.
“Not even,” Neal chuckled, “it just looks like a cloud to me, like a big glob of marshmallow or something.”
“You have no imagination, do you?”
“I use the gifts I was given; unfortunately, you’re going to have to be the creative one. I’ll just sit back and make fun of all your ideas.”
Violet sighed, “What a friend, you are, Neal, what a friend.”
A grin spread across his face and he turned his head to take in the girl’s face, a bit self-conscious about his sarcasm around her, “I know, aren’t I great?”
It must have been an hour that the two children sat there, lost in their innocence and the innate beauty of the world. Neal enjoyed glancing at the girl’s brown hair sprawled about the ground all around her shoulders. Violet just enjoyed feeling the elements on her face and the warmth of this boy’s hand under her own. The hours passed and they hardly noticed the sun beginning to set. So focused were the two upon each other that they failed to notice another two teenagers walking up. Violet and Neal started and their hands snapped apart at the sound of a male’s voice.
“The two lovers, again, I see. I told you they’d be here, Sis.”
The new arrival made a face that seemed to show a mild disgust. It was only for a second and Neal probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t known this particular boy for the majority of his life. Neal groaned and he rolled over to face the voice, “So logic and reason rears its ugly head. I figured you’d show up eventually,” Neal stood up and clasped hands with the other boy, a friendly smile on his face, “How are ya, man?”
James and Tanya were two of the oldest friends that Violet and Neal had. They were fraternal twins and seemed incredibly similar. He and his sister had the same silver eyes and dark brown hair. Tanya’s eyes glittered in the failing light and a big smile touched her ears. James rarely smiled.
“We’re fine,” he bluntly replied. Tanya gave her brother a little shove.
“Speak for yourself, I’m doing great!” She kept meeting Violet’s eyes and then glancing over at Neal, they started to giggle a bit playfully hit the other girl’s shoulder. “We didn’t mean to interrupt—“
“You’re not interrupting anything,” the words nervously tumbled out of Violet’s mouth. Tanya just smiled a little wider.
“We didn’t mean to bother you two, but James wanted to talk with you, Neal, and I thought it would be a great time for some… girl talk,” more giggling, “with this little lady, so…”
“Can’t that wait?” asked Violet, unconsciously shuffling closer to Neal. Tanya looked about to concede, but her brother put up his hand and interrupted.
“No,” He gazed coolly at the other boy, “it’s important.”
Tanya linked arms with the other girl and herded her off, waving back at the boys while they walked off. Violet looked back almost apologetically at Neal just before they entered the small wood separating the park from the rest of the neighborhood. He caught her eyes and nodded a bit, forcing a smile through an ominous feeling in his stomach. The sun had set now, and the wind no longer seemed friendly. James just stared at Neal, scarcely blinking.
“We need to talk. It’s about Violet.”
* * *
When we got back to Violet’s house, she offered me some chocolate, which I of course snapped up before we ran off to the living room and cuddled up in blankets on her big couch. It was so… comfy. I loved her house, it was so warm and cuddly and… unique. Paintings plastered the walls throughout most of the house, a plethora of windows into alternate worlds. Normally, the abundance of stained glass windows added a certain luster to the interior, though I didn’t really notice them at night.
We talked for a while about nothing in particular. Those are my favorite times; you really get to know people based on how they talk about nothing. Violet loved to write and paint and… express herself through so many different things. If you looked closely, you could see a little twinkle in her eyes when she talked about that latest idea she had, or that poem that got published. Something felt different tonight, though. As much as I hated to admit it, James may have been right this time. There was no twinkle left in this girl’s eyes. Something was killing her.
The thought of it forced me to concentrate on maintaining my smile. Violet needed someone to rely on tonight; I had to be that person. James always had to cut right to the problem and fix it. I knew that the better way to deal with problems was to sort them out, smooth out the edges, and find a compromise. Logic couldn’t solve everything. That’s part of what made this so hard. James was always so good at solving things without emotion, sometimes it helped not to feel very much. Finally I worked up the courage to say something.
“Violet, is there something you need to talk about?” She didn’t say anything at first. Her eyes lost focus as the girl lapsed into thought. Her mouth opened, but she must have thought better because she closed it and looked at her hands which she began wringing nervously. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Violet just choked down a sob and kept her gaze averted..
“It just gets hard sometimes, you know?” I could tell she was having trouble speaking, her voice was hardly audible and it wavered as she fought not to cry. She struggled to speak, but she was finally able to whisper, “I don’t know how to feel. I can’t help but feel like he’s keeping me back. Neal used to inspire my best work, but it’s getting so… draining. I haven’t finished a single painting in a month. I have this idea in my head that I can’t get out and it’s all I can work on.” Violet motioned towards an easel on the other side of the room. A large canvas rested on it, covered in light pencil markings. It was completely devoid of any color. I stood up and walked over to examine it a bit more closely. Apparently, Violet had tried to draw two people in a number of different ways and has erased them all. I could see the faint markings of two bodies facing each other at some distance, another with them talking, another with just two faces, and now she had on that canvas the two faces leaning towards each other, prepared to kiss each other.
“I don’t know how to feel about him. I know I have feelings, but are they what he wants? Can I make him happy? Can…” She took a deep breath, I could hear how labored her breathing was, “Can I be happy with him?”
“Listen, Violet, sometimes love can be confusing…”
She almost yelled, “It’s not love!” and then she returned to her quiet tone, “at least, I don’t think it is.”
We just sat in silence for a time, me by the canvas, her on the couch. My heart really went out to her but I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t often that I was at a loss for words. She finally looked up at me. Her eyes were red and tears stained her face. Running to me, we embraced each other and I did my best to comfort her as she sobbed into my shoulder. I don’t know how long it was before she finally spoke again, but I had never heard her so pained in all of our time together.
“If I know how he feels then maybe I can figure all of this out. I just… need to hear it from him.” I was willing to stay with her for as long as she needed me.
* * *
I decided to be blunt, “You need to stop seeing her.” Neal’s face initially looked confused, but it slowly morphed into something more potent, wrathful.
His words seethed out of his clenched teeth, “How dare you tell us what to do? We’re in love and there’s nothing you can do to change that!”
“Oh, really? Has she ever told you that she loves you? Have you ever even told her?” He just glared; I could tell he was scrambling for something to say and coming up with nothing, “that’s what I thought. Were you aware of the fact that she missed another exhibition today? Did you even know that your little “together” time kept her from it?”
“So what? It was her choice to stay here, and do you want to know why she made that choice?” I was about to speak, but he cut me off when I opened my mouth, “it’s because we love each other. No, we haven’t told each other, but that’s the thing with emotions. You don’t have to talk about them, you feel them.”
“Neal, there were important people there today, people that could have gotten her out of here. People that could have made her a successful artist. She’s destined for greatness, and you’re holding her back.” That was the first time I had seen Neal sneer at me.
“Oh, that’s right. I guess I forgot that you just don’t understand emotions. Sometimes I forget that you don’t feel them, sometimes I forget that you only look human.”
I had had enough. I lunged at Neal and tackled him to the ground, bringing my fist crashing into his face. Immediately, I regretted my lapse of clear judgment. Neal was bigger than me and he effortlessly rolled us over, landing a number of his own, substantially stronger punches on me. I could feel his rage, his pain every time he hit me. But I was tired of being tread on, I would be heard. In my own fit of rage I screamed, “She’ll never love you, you two will never be together! Ever!”
Neal stopped hitting me. In a moment he stood up and turned away. Forcing myself up through the pain in my body, I stood up. I spit some blood out of my mouth. It didn’t do much good; I felt blood running profusely from my nose and out of a number of places in my mouth where his fists had met my teeth. I took a second to regain my composure before I said anything.
“You’re wrong, Neal, I have plenty of emotion. The difference between you and I is that I know how to manage mine to keep other people from getting hurt. I do the logical thing, though you’re impulsiveness is contagious,” I paused, but he didn’t say anything, “You’re hurting her, and you know it, even if you don’t want to see it.” I waited a few minutes before I realized he was dead set on ignoring me. I started walking away, but I turned back, “Tanya told me about the plans you’ve made with Violet. Tell her what you feel and then cut it off. Do the right thing, for her sake.” I left him there, motionless, swimming through his own thoughts.
* * *
The canvas seemed to mock me. I had no idea what to turn it into, and I suspect that it knew it. I drifted in and out of focus, and I found myself reminiscing on the past. For some reason, it all felt incredibly important lately. This feeling of urgency told me to treasure the memories while I still could. It was hard to explain, but a few memories really nagged at me. They were all about Neal. One of my favorites was of when he used to look deeply into me with those intense eyes of his. With a pencil, I sketched them into one of the faces.
It was in these moments I knew that he cared for me, it was those moments that all that fog rolled away and I wasn't unsure anymore. We would just be comfortably talking about whatever - sports, computers, art... anything, really, but then he would get really silent and he would get distant. With a single glance into my eyes, a strange sensation would wash over me. Green emeralds pierced through my soul, as if they were picking me apart and cherishing what they found. Neal would then reach out his hand and touch my cheek. His palms were always warm - like fiery passions were swimming through his blood. These were the only times I had ever known him to hug anyone, and it was nearly heaven every time he put his arms around me. There was something I always wanted to ask him at those moments, but I could never quite find the words.
I was happy just going over these instances in my mind for awhile, but I soon remembered that I had plans today. Glancing at the clock, I realized I would be late even if I left right now. In a rush, I grabbed my hairbrush as I ran to the door and quickly ran it through my unkempt mane. Quickly, I grabbed my house key off the table and tore open the door... only to be met by the fierce chill of a late autumn evening. Heading back inside, I slipped on my jacket before charging off towards the point of rendezvous. The journey felt like it had taken forever.
Sure enough, he was there. Neal stood with his hands in his pockets with his back against the brick wall of the restaurant we were meeting at today. He exhaled while staring at the sky - the breath plumed out in a big white cloud. As I neared, he noticed me and turned his head to meet me. A clumsy grin unwittingly spread across his face. Once I had gotten within his earshot, I realized I had to say something.
"Have you been waiting outside for me this whole time?"
“Yeah, I got our names in, but I like days like this. To most people, they’re miserable and cold, but to me they make everything beautiful seem even brighter.” He smiled a bit; I think I did, too.
“You should have just gone inside; you’ll catch cold out here. It’s freezing. Strange how fast the weather changes around here…”
"It's no big deal. But come on, now that you're here there's no sense in sitting out here anymore." And with that he started towards the large glass doors. I noticed he moved a little slower than usual and his steps had lost their sense of purpose. My mind didn't tell my legs to move for a few moments. It was only then that I hustled after him. He was already inside by the time I reached the doors. Neal had stopped on the other side, waiting for me yet again. As I touched my hand to the glass, he turned his eyes toward me. Perhaps it was an illusion in the glass, but they seemed much less intense than I remembered them in my memories. Finally, we were both inside and, thankfully, the building was well heated. The cold saturating my body was washed away almost immediately.
Within a few minutes, we had been assigned a table; we had been seated near the middle of the dining area. I could feel the knowing smiles of all of the old couples eating together that sat around us. Neal wasn't acting like himself. He just stared at the table with a distant look in his eyes. I finally broke the silence.
“Hey, are you with me today? You seem quieter than usual.”
“Yeah, I guess I’m just cold. Oh, here comes the waiter, what are you going to order?”
I ordered a salad that had an interesting name while he ordered a mushroom burger. I couldn't remember if he had told me his taste had changed but I was sure that he told me he couldn't stand mushrooms. I shrugged it off; after all it wasn't like he had to tell me everything. Once we had gotten our orders, our customary small talk began. We started by talking about football. One of the more famous players had starred in a recent movie. Before we discussed it, he wasn't very fond of the plot, thinking it was too hard to follow. However, I explained that the whole thing was symbolism for something a lot deeper. What I picked out of it all was that the plot had shown that perfection was subjective. Every person had a different idea of what was right and what was wrong and thus had different ideas about what was perfect. When I asked him what he thought of it he became really quiet again. We just sat in silence for a long time, finishing our meals. His hand had been tightly grasping his cup of water the whole time.
"You know, that's why you're so cold. Just let go of your drink for awhile and you'll warm up in no time. Geez, you can't feel better if you don't do something about yourself." I wondered what I had said, because his eyes instantly glazed over and he grew incredibly distant at my words. Neal just nodded and slowly took his hand away from the glass and sat back in his seat. It was only then that I realized he had been very tense throughout the whole meal. Soon enough, the waiter came back and gave us our check, which Neal paid for quickly before getting up and leaving even faster.
It was all I could do it keep up with him. This time, he had made it all the way to the door before I could catch him. He could only take one step outside before I caught and held his arm. The cold washed over me again and I had forgotten my jacket at the table in my hurry but I didn't want to take my hand from him for fear that he would run off.
"What's wrong with you? Why have you been acting weird all day? This isn't like you at all!" I hadn't meant for my words to be so sharp.
With sad eyes, he turned towards me once more; they darted back and forth between my own. Green emeralds pierced my soul, cherishing every moment. I could tell he was reminiscing. He reached out and touched my cheek. His touch startled me, but I couldn't tell why at the moment, I was too caught up in those precious orbs. Before he could hug me this time, I finally found the words I had been looking for.
"Can you tell me, Neal, can you tell me what you think of me? Of us?"
He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. His hand left my skin and he turned and walked away. I didn't move—it felt like the cold rushing through me was due to the frozen fears gripping my heart. Neal was in the distance then, and I could hardly make him out against the white sky. I was only then that I realized what was different this time: his hands had been as cold as death itself.
* * *
The bridge loomed in the distance. It was the only route I had ever used to leave the town. It was one of the only places I felt welcome right now I had been walking for hours and it was very dark by now. Even the moon seemed ashamed to be near me as it hid behind thick cloud cover. Why was everything falling apart?
I done everything for them that I could. There was nothing left for me to give. I loved each and every one of my friends, but I had only been met with apathy… and confusion. James was right; I had been refusing to see what I was doing to Violet. My feelings were too much for her to handle; they were too much for anyone to handle.
I was finally there and the bridge welcomed me with its cold rails. I felt horrible for what I did to all of them, but I didn’t know how to live any other way. Maybe I shouldn’t be alive anymore at all. Taking a deep breath, I climbed up onto the rail.
“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done… especially to you, Violet. I just wanted you to love me. I did everything I could to make me the only focus in your life. I’ve ruined everything.”
They could rebuild themselves when I was gone. I could hear the water rushing by in the river below. I had always wanted to follow it somewhere and see where it would lead me. I cried a little bit before a harsh wind began to blow. In a way, it was redeeming. It stripped me of everything until I was completely devoid of emotion.
Neal’s carcass let go and plunged into the comforting embrace of the waters below.
* * *
The three friends stood around the painting, just looking at it. Voices of museum-goers filled the hallway. It was brightly lit by exquisitely-crafted chandeliers and the white marble seemed especially clean around this particular exhibit. Paintings lined the walls, windows into new worlds of vivid colors and emotions. Violet had her signature on every one of them.
James gave her a pat on the back, “I knew you could make it one day. You’re a great artist. You deserve every bit of the fame that you’ll get.”
Her eyes stayed focused on this particular painting, never wandering. “You’re very kind, James, thank you.” Tanya turned her eyes toward Violet, staring intently.
“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” she inquired. Violet sighed and finally tore her eyes from the canvas.
“Can you believe it’s been almost twenty years since any of us have seen him?”
James turned around and walked away when Neal came up. Tanya followed him with her eyes before hugging Violet.
“Time seemed to speed up after he was gone, at least for us. I think James still blames himself for what happened.” A strong wave of grief washed over the artist at Neal’s memory, though it only lasted long enough for her to shed a single tear.
“I just wonder if things could have been different. We were having a hard time, but we could have worked things out, I know it… It took me years to accept what happened. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I guess when I finally finished this, I felt like I could move on.” Tanya gave her one last squeeze before she turned to go.
“I’d better go talk to James; you know how he can get. You should go back to your new fans and mingle a bit. These memories are a lot to deal with, but you’ll get through them.” Violet nodded and Tanya walked off after her brother. The artist took one more look at the painting before shuffling off back to the crowd.
“Goodbye, Neal…”
The painting would become one of Violet’s most famous. They say it took her years to paint and was the only one she ever struggled with. Others say that it was painted to honor one of her best friends from her childhood. The true story, however, was that it was that Violet couldn’t finish it until she had looked deep inside of herself. The artist claimed that she had never meant for there to be any deeper meaning behind the painting then the painting itself, but that is rarely the case with painters as talented as Violet. People came from around the world to see the bright painting of two figures in a silent embrace, melding into one. The vivid colors brought different emotions to different people, but they were all fiercely powerful. The green eyes of one of the figures once reduced a hardened general to tears. In time, people forgot Violet’s story but even after her signature had faded from the painting, Neal’s eyes continued to pierce into the lives of all who looked upon him.