Painting in Color

I can hear the squeak of the swings' chains as they move. I feel the soft movement of air through my hair. The motion of my leg as it moves to keep the soft, slow, swing going.

My body quits trying to balance itself, as my eyes start breaking down the elements of this painting of my younger self. Wondering mildly what Jake used to get that exact shade of brown for the sable color of my first fancy dress.

My inner mind is trying to find those two foot high neon letters that were so easy to see in the other two paintings. Once I knew what to look for. But I can't seem to find in this one. Because I know that I have too. That's what's important in this painting.

Squeak, as I feel the air over my face I can smell the park from that younger time. Squeak, as I feel the seat of the swing pause, and my weight to gently try to continue forward. The pull of the chains in my hands. As the swings' seat starts back down the path of its arc. Pulling my weight back with it.

Looking, I'm amazed the both Jake and I can remember that same exact shade of sable that was in that dress from over three years ago. Realizing that Jake did the same treatment on this painting as he did on the background of Dennis too. That soft semi-blurred focus. The super sharp detail and rendering of the central figure...me.

I know that it's my fault that I can't find those subliminal messages Jake's put in this painting. Those two foot high neon letters. Something happened in that first instants' look I had...

And it broke me...

My psyche has fractured into three part harmony...

Those younger sensations on that swing in the park. All feeling, smell, motion all flowing passed with no thought, no emotion...

My eyes, my mind, and the weight of my body as I stare, analyzing the painting of myself. Of brush strokes, color weights, design elements all floating together into technique, technique, technique...

Of the panic in my inner mind, chasing, chasing around trying to find those neon letters. Running after hidden subliminal revelations. Wondering if the glimpses I see are of one's Jake put there, or are they ones I want to be there. Or maybe even ones I don't want to be there. I just don't know, but I have to find them. Because I know that their the key to putting myself back together...

It's all simultaneously singing in roundelay a three part harmony, and I can't make sense of anything...

The park and swing starts to fade, there's heat, pressure and weight on my arm. As Jake's hand on my arm slams into my inner mind and melds everything back together. I gasp...

Sucking in air, I know that I haven't moved. Maybe I haven't breathed either. But my eyes still are looking at the painting and it's screaming at me!

My hands fly up to cover my ears before I can stop them. I hear my voice whisper:

"It's screaming that me."

Then a chuckle from Cat.

"Yeah it screamed at me too. I told you that it might be his best work ever. Now you can see why I said It's so very special to Jake."

I feel the touch on my arm again.

"You OK Dani?"

I turn from looking at Cat to Jake, and read the concern in his eyes. I allow myself to sink down and kneel in front of him. Reach up with both hands and hold his face, and look into his eyes. Take whatever mask is left on my eyes off, and pour all the love I feel for him out of them.

I remember from that letter my mother Carol wrote, 'that she was so very sorry that she never knew who my father was...

But I know.

I pulled his face toward me, and for a little girl's fantasy that never was and never could be. Of being 'in love' with this most wonderful of men. I gave Jake the first and last kiss on the lips that I ever will. One beat, two beats and I pulled back. Still holding his face, with my soul open to his eyes.

"It's the most beautiful painting in all of this whole wide world. Because it just told me how so very much my Daddy loves me."

I'd never called Jake Daddy before. Julie was right when she told me I had to find out what kind of love Jake had toward me. His painting screamed it at me, and everything fell into its correct place. My Daddy loves me so very much.

I looked up to the painting and I could easily read the neon writing now. He'd used my younger self; that dress, that day, that swing and park to show me that even then he loved me. That subliminal revelation to show me how so very proud he was of just how far I'd come, from that shy timid younger self. To just how much he loves what I've become today. It's wrote in two foot high neon letters for the whole world to see.

In that painting of my younger self, in my first fancy dress. So I told Jake again.

"I love you Daddy."

I stood and turned to Cat, took those few steps. Held her face and kissed her lips too. Pulled her into a hug and whispered into her ear and hair.

"I love you too. My sister, mother, friend, my guiding star.

"That was my nightmare, that I could possibly hurt you with how I felt about Jake. Thus pushing me away from the two people who I love most in my life. My secret that I had to hide, so I wouldn't hurt you. I would never hurt you, never, never, never hurt you. So I hid and denied and cried."

"My mother told me that she didn't know who my father was, so that meant that I didn't have one. I know that's not what she said. But that's what my younger self heard in her terror and pain. So I had no where to put Jake, no father box to put him in."

"Since I love Jake so very much, that meant that I must be 'in love' with him. Now I know that I'm not 'in love' with Jake. I have so very very much more, my Daddy loves me. Julie was right, in my heart of hearts I didn't know that. Now I do, Jake's painting screamed it and made that place, that box, open for him."

Holding Cat, whispering into her hair, my eyes see behind her, the clock on the studio wall.

Ten minutes, that's how long we've been looking at Jake's paintings.

Ten minutes to see almost a year of Jake's work.

Ten minutes, that's how long it took to fundamentally change how I look that the most important man in my life.

Ten minutes, that's how long it took to find my Daddy's love.

Ten minutes, that's how long it took to realize that my nightmare was a child's closet boogie man.

Ten minutes to realize that I will always have a place in their lives, and always did.

Ten minutes to realize that all is right in my world, that I can go to school this fall and everything will still be alright.

That I can come home and my world will still be right. That I can come home to the most beautiful part of my life, and it will be here waiting for me.

Come home to my Daddy.

Jake.

Of Kathy, I don't know how the first two people I acquired as friends. When I started crawling out of myself imposed exile. Could both be such amazing people. She graduated from here. Her professor, who she studied under here. Knew another professor, who knew another, and found her a mentor.

That got her into The Istituto Superiore per la Conservazione ed il Restauro (ISCR) in Rome Italy. What better place to study art restoration could there possibility be? She hasn't just stayed in Rome though. Who could have known that our little art supply store cashier would become a world traveler. Gallivanting around the world saving histories masterpieces.

She hasn't forgotten us though. Dani gets post cards, letters, and pictures of every where she travels. Plus pictures all of the pieces that she works on, I do too. She's come over and stayed with us a couple of times too.

It was thanksgiving break and Dani was home. Again my remembrance of the turnaround in Dani's life. Swelled my heart. From that broken little girl. To this beautiful, confident, dynamic young woman home on break from college. Was nothing short of miraculous. That we'd been able to get her into Cornell University was a feat to be proud of.

Dani was the reason to be proud. That young girl I'd met in that broken down old apartment, and that painting we'd made together. Bore no resemblance to the woman that came through the door a couple days ago. 90% of that's all on her. I did as her Mother asked, I showed her how to become a better person. Once she started, she never looked back. She picked up that ball and headed for the end zone, and there was never any doubt that she wasn't going to succeed. No doubt at all.

"Hey ladies, I'm going to get the mail."

I got half way out to the mail box before I realized that it was November, and dark and cold. Even though there wasn't any snow on the ground, it was still damn cold. But just a quick scoot to the mail box and back won't kill me. The usual flyers and junk mail and...

And one smudged, folded dirty piece of paper. It had no postmark or stamp, no address or return. Strangely, down through the years I still recognized the handwriting.

I've seen my daughter several times Jake. You've made a damn fine father Jake, damn fine. You've done everything that I could ever have wanted and a lot more. Thank you Jake, from the bottom of my soul thank you.

It looks like John and Scooter aren't going to turn out to be much more than trouble. But my daughter Jake, oh she's so very special. She's why I know that my life has not been wasted, that it's had purpose and meaning. Now I can die happy, and I will soon. I've done a lot of bad things in my life, made a lot of bad choices, sex, drugs, and rock and roll. You can't live life like I have and not pay the price.

Please don't let her know that or that I've been here. I don't want to risk hurting her any more than I already have. I know that you don't owe me anything Jake, you've done so much.

But if you could find some way to remind her that her mother has always loved her. Please find some way to let her know just how extremely proud I'm of her, of the amazing, beautiful young woman she's become.

Damn fine Father, thank you Jake.

Carol.

I didn't realize just how long that I'd been out here. Or how so very cold my body was, until Dani's hand touched my shoulder. Then I had a point of reference for the shivering that was going through me. I realized that I really didn't owe Carol any consideration. But I owed Dani honesty, so I just handed the note up to her.

I didn't watch her as she read it, the only contact that she's had with her Mother in five years. She's quiet, I don't want to look up at her. I don't know if I'm scared to, or that I'm allowing some privacy, maybe a little of both.

"It's cold out here Daddy, let's go back inside."

She doesn't call me Daddy very often. But I love it when she does.

So we turn and go back inside, inside our...

Home.

Finito.

Do they go on to find Carol before she dies. Like in reality, life goes on passed the end of the story. You decide, it leaves a little mystery.

Hope you enjoyed this story. Votes and comments very welcome, good or bad.

The opposite of love is apathy.

The opposite of life is vacancy.