"You're very judgmental Paul," he repeated, "You think that everyone should live as you do, that it is the only right way. So what if I decide that by Marrying Vivian I would have made her unhappy for the rest of her life?" What if you can’t understand that pure love can exist without it ending in marriage?”
"It would have been a blessed union, but through your unappreciative nature, you failed to see it."
Mark looked around the workshop; spotted a wooden crate in one corner and walked over to it. He dragged it noisily to where he had been standing. He dropped onto it and looked up. Paul was still looking at him, the same look he had greeted his news with still on his face.
"You two just sat and talked and decided that you were not happy together? That your love was too good to ruin with marriage?”
Mark raised his hand and opened his mouth to say retort, then shut it. Paul raised his eyebrows to prompt a response.
"Paul, please, just this once, let's be real." Mark sighed.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You have your preachy face on you. Right now in that head of yours are bible verses about commitment and love and marriage and sacredness… can we just talk? Brother to brother? Heart to heart, candidly? Please?"
"Mark, faith in God is an inseparable part of my life, what I say, what I do. You take that away…"
"Yes, I'm taking it away. Let's work with what is left."
"It's not much, and it's not even worthy."
"But it will be more appreciated. Certainly more than 'God has a plan, He knows…"
"Mark, if I don't talk God, then you don't mock Him. Deal?" Mark looked at him, and the seriousness on his brother's face unsettled him slightly. Faith must mean so much to him, he thought.
"Something in those lines."
"So, what next?" Paul untied his apron, "For you two?"
"Vivian pursues her world-saving career… don’t scoff, Paul! Your G…” He stopped when Paul reminded him with a look of their promises to each concerning religion.
"What I don’t understand is that you're not together, and you're seeing other people."
“Paul,” Mark drew in a deep breath, “Do you know where I was when our parents died?”
Paul stood up and walked a few feet away. Mark didn't look at him. He knew the look he had on his face. He too had suffered, Mark knew, but whereas Mark had sought solace in hate, Paul had drawn closer to his beliefs.
Despite what they had agreed with each other, he knew that Paul would break his promise the moment he turned to face him.
"The Lord blesses you with a beautiful girl and a perfect relationship, and all you can do is…"
"Do not preach to me, please. Answer my question. I can repeat it…"
"I’m not preaching, Mark, just stating the truth. God's will and purpose in our lives is that…"
"I thought coming to you would be a good idea," Mark stood up angrily, "When will I ever do something that you approve of, something you won't gut with your faith and your God?" He walked to the door and paused, one leg on the doorstep. He grabbed the doorjamb and turned. The anger flashed in his eyes. Paul, who had been about to say something remained silent when he saw the look on his brother's face.
"You know very well that I hate God, Paul. I came to you to talk, and all you can do is to preach to me. Send Him away for a minute so that I may feel like I’m talking to my brother for once.”
"You don't hate Him, Mark. You're still bitter about, you know what…"
"You can say it, Paul. I'm no longer ten. Yeah, you're right I'm still bitter about it. So bitter that at times I feel like you've betrayed our family by sticking to Him."
"Mark, you were young, and…"
"They died in a church, Paul, in a church! Where was God, as they screamed in pain? Where was He when I walked in and saw…"
"Mark…" Paul moved closer toward his brother, but Mark took a step back and out of the workshop and into the sunlight. Through his hot and angry tears, everything shimmered, from the blue skies to the lawn, and even his brother Paul who was approaching him, hand outstretched. It all shimmered like it had, all those years ago, when he was eight…
"Mark," Paul was still inching closer, "Listen please," he begged. Mark heard his voice coming as if from afar, "Mark, you refused to talk about it. You have always attempted to run away from it… but isn't it time you faced yourself and what you saw?"
“You knew?” Mark, through his tears, saw Paul pause in his stalk-like approach and look up into the heavens. He wiped away the tears and was shocked to see Paul had his own.
“I followed you later…” Paul chocked, “But when I arrived you had already left… and they were dead… Mark, God is merciful…”
"No, no..! He let them burn! He left them to die Paul! They were faithful; they trusted Him, and yet… He abandoned them to die horribly and painfully. How I sometimes wish if only I could have been blinded, for just a moment, just a few seconds Paul, enough to blot out what I saw! Did He answer me? No. Did he answer them as they cried and begged, as the fire…"
"Please, let me... Mark, I'm begging you. In the name…”
“I’m leaving!” And with the curtly, let out words, Mark hurried off.
"Mark, brother to brother…” He heard Paul hurrying behind him, “Paul to Mark! I'm begging you that just this once, you let go of that bitterness for the sake of healing. I will never ever compel you to make it right with- Him, but, for the sake of your mind, your peace of mind and closure, let's talk. For once, open up, trust me as the Paul you've loved as your brother." Mark had stopped. When Paul reached him, he held his shoulder. Looking at his tear-stained face, Mark wondered who between the two of them suffered more.
"I will never forgive Him."
"I hear you, Mark."
"I will never ever have anything to do with Him.” He turned his face up, "What is your definition of contentment Paul? Or happiness? Or even living?"
"It is progressive Mark, we define our lives as we grow, as we age."
"Exactly my point! I was never given a set of instructions on how to live or find happiness when I was born. We learn it. We live it. This is life. Happiness may come at a cost, but its benefits…"
"I'm not judging you, Mark, and I apologize if that is how it seemed." Paul’s sincere face wiped the few strains of mistrust that had persisted on Mark’s agonized one, and through drying tears, he smiled.
"I'm okay. It's fine. All of a sudden, it is fine.”
"I'm sorry, Mark. Lately, I've been caught up with so much…” he indicated towards the house, “We've not even had time to sit and talk, brother to brother." They headed for it, hands on shoulders.
"I'm the one who should be apologizing Paul. All these years accusing you of being a prude, pretensions and judgmental… and now, thinking about it, I'm the one who's been all those things and probably worse… you know what Paul? Our parents were having sex when they died- stop looking at me like that! Let’s go in. I’ll tell you everything!”
They did, and he did. As he spoke, the wind stopped by the house to take away the hate and the venom and the vehemence that floated out with his every word, rushing through the Jacaranda trees out back so strongly, their branches bent and twisted in the creaking complaint.
Chapter 9
Mr. Dionte met him as he got out of his car. They had agreed to meet at Gents and Vents, an establishment named so for its popularity with men of all ages who visited its welcoming ambiance, just to vent about anything and everything.
“I saw you pull in as I parked my car,” Mr. Dionte pointed to the Buick trying to seemingly fit in among the newer generation and failing, opting for a stoic, composed look.
“Oh, hadn’t noticed you.” Mark always felt safe around the old man but never confident. He glanced at him as they walked into the Gents and Vents, and noticed that he looked frailer, thinner, smaller. The old man was speaking as a uniformed waiter pointed to a suitable table, away from the entrance, and set apart from the
other noisy ones, “…Vivian, you may come to see me,” he was saying.
Mark deliberated for a moment. Could Vivian had told her grandpa about their scheme? He reflected briefly back on that day when the two of them had enthusiastically built on what had seemed to be a foolproof plan from which the aim was to protect each other and most specifically love.
"Mark," the elderly man peered at him. Mark glanced back at him, "Everything is fine, Mr. Dionte," why did I think it would be easy, "Everything is just great." Since the place served only coffee, that was what was placed on their table.
"Vivian is preparing to start another doctorate in a few months' time, Mark."
"It is her life's dream. It always has."
"She has a very promising future ahead of her. Everything is going well for her, except for one tiny blot of…"
"I know sir. Me."
"Ambition drives the world, Mark. Without it, life loses its- I won’t say meaning, I opt for ‘appeal’."
"So do dreams, and motivation, sir."
"You forget that the moment your mind wakes and reality kicks in, those dreams dissipate in foggy tendrils."
“That may be the case sir, but on a focused mind, the dream may be recalled and with dedication actualized and realized.”
Mr. Dionte seemed to mull it over as his lip rested on the steaming cup. He set down the cup with a sigh and linked his hands above the table, to rest his chin on them,
“I'm not overly fond of you, Mark and the thought of you and Vivian forever," he stressed on the word 'forever', "Gives me legitimate nightmares. You two are worlds apart." The one thing Mark had always admired from Mr. Dionte was his direct approach to issues and the unassuming ease with which he let his feeling be known. Setting down his own cup, Mark took a deep breath and let out each word exactly as his thoughts processed it,
"Well, sir, here is my piece. I respect what you believe to be the very definition of success in life, but that's just it, your opinion. Allow me to tell you mine."
Mr. Dionte sat back and folded his arms, "Go ahead."
"We all exist, I believe, but few of us live. What I mean is, does it matter what I do in life as long as it gives me immense satisfaction? I hate the orderliness, the rigid expectations that society imposes, but most of all, I loathe the fact that not many appreciate the simplicity of life anymore."
"I see."
"Vivian and I, we've had a great time. She was my first love. But most of the time, I realize that so much of the effort I make while with her is not to make her or myself happy but to ingratiate myself to your expectations. Sorry sir, but I had to let it out."
"From your rant…"
"My rant, sir?"
"Let me talk, please. I can tell that you two would never be happy together."
"I don't mean to hurt Vivian."
"Then don't. Follow your heart, as it is said these days. In my day it would have been ‘do what is expected of you’."
Times change."
"Well Mark, thank you for being frank about it. The last thing I would have wanted is to see my Vivian unhappy. If the two of you cannot find happiness together, then your relationship is dead. With my blessings." With that, Mr. Dionte stood up and with as much dignity as he could muster in his frail form, left the Gents and Vents.
*****
“Paul your brother?” she asked. He looked at her before answering. Unlike her place, his house had power, and while she had relished the thought of spending nights and making love in a lighted atmosphere, he had bemoaned the fact that he should have thought of shorting his fuses just before she had arrived… she had done him a favor though and had brought the hurricane lantern.
“Please,” she had scoffed the moment he had taken it out of her hands, “I’ll smash that thing if you keep looking and caressing it like that.” She had made him promise that they would use electric lights though…
“We cried it out together.”
“Mr. Dionte?”
“I made look like I was leaving Vivian because of his disapproval. I have to say; he took it very well.”
“Well,” she sat back and closed her eyes, “The Park is finally safe, you abandoned your pangolin project…”
“I did not, and you know it. I realized there was more I could do than take pictures, exhibit them, beg for money then sit back, while others…” he took her hand, “Are living in caves just to afford the animal another day…”
“Hey…” her eyes flew open, “Did I tell you the pangolins were never stolen? The two Shing was agonizing about?”
“No.”
“They had migrated and made new burrows further south. What does that tell you?”
“There’s hope after all. They are adapting.”
“As we all should,” she said quietly and closed her eyes again.
They remained quiet for a while, each wondering, thinking, planning, conniving- like he was from the way he turned to her,
“Let’s put out the lights.”
“Mark!”
“There’s something about the dark; mysterious, concealed and yet… there. I yearn to find it."
“But not with your sight?”
"Lisa, sight robs us of that mysteriousness of knowing it's there, within your reach perhaps…"
“Then why not lose altogether? Your sight? Why the part concealment of light?”
"Reminds me of a question a childhood friend asked me."
"What about?"
"I was fifteen, hormones raging. The question was, if given a choice, what would I have preferred to have as a wall poster- a completely naked girl or a scantily- dressed one."
"And?"
"I rushed to say 'naked', but years later, I realized that a partly dressed girl would have been more torturous to my then young and impressionable mind."
"Not a naked one?"
"The imagination is limitless, Lisa, as are the possibilities of what is covered, and especially to a young but growing boy's mind."
"Is that why you love the dark? And black and white photography? To you, it conceals but still retains bits to be imagined?"
"It heightens expectations, and my mind can conjure all sorts of what lies in the dark shadows, what lurks behind the greyness, what it could have been."
"Is that how you view life, Mark? An abstract black and white reality with no color in it?"
"Sometimes, I think it is. My brother Paul, very religious, a very devoted family man, committed to his wife and two girls. I, on the other hand, not religious… put my career before any and all thoughts of family…"
"The opposite…"
"Sometimes, when I think about it I fail to see any blur in our contrasts. It is black and white."
"Mark, life is colorful. It is both a completely naked girl and a dressed one. What matters is how you take it, how you want it to be. If you take it to be drab, it will be. Harsh, hard, difficult, impossible… if on the other hand, you see color and vivacity in everything, it will always turn out so."
"What do you see Lisa, how colorful is your world?"
"Very. I discovered there's existing and there's living."
"So you live?"
"I live, which is optional. Existing is not."
"And love? Where does love come in?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you just exist, or exist and live.”
No lights were harmed that night, or the next, or even the next when one morning, Lisa walked out of the shower completely naked to find Mark at his desk.
“Mark Thinn?”
“Yes, Lisa Fellows?”
“A while back, when the time had stopped, a man used so many words to ask a simple thing from a woman.”
“Uh… okay.”
“He has waited, and now the moment for the answer has come.”
“It has?”
“It has. Mark? The answer is yes.”
He had waited, and he had been ready. Lisa Fellows in all her nakedness knelt on
the carpet for a moment, and when Lisa Thinn straightened up, that moment became immortalized, for right then, Only Time embraced them.
Chapter 10
“What matters the most to you, Mark?” Lisa, curled comfortably on the futon, asked. Failing to get a response, she glanced up from her phone. Mark was sitting at his desk, eyes glued to his laptop, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead.
“Mark,” she prompted him, "You're in the zone, again,” she said accusingly.
“Hmm?” he turned to her, but his gray eyes remained deeply thoughtful. Lisa observed him as a wave of affection washed over her. Sometimes the man, once immersed in his work would forget that he existed in a real world. She slid off the futon and walked over.
“You’re taking pictures again in your mind,” she shook his shoulder gently and kissed him on the cheek. He didn't seem to have heard her.
“I’m wondering if I made a mistake in one of my shots. Here, look at this.” Lisa looked. On the screen were numerous images of various animals, all black and white.
“They look… what am I supposed to look for exactly?” she asked, her dark eyes still scanning the images, "Spirit? Soul?" She assumed a stoic look, "The unity that light and dark bring out… whereas we can discern with our inner eye…" he glanced sharply at her as she burst out laughing. From anyone else, he would have taken it as an insult, but from Lisa, it was a compliment.
“What is the first impression that comes to your mind when you look at them?” Mark turned up his face to hers. Despite his mind being preoccupied, he never failed to appreciate the woman standing next to him, taking a very keen interest in his work.
"I just told you… need I repeat?"
He sighed as he raised a hand and stroked her cheek. She reciprocated by gently kneading his shoulder, and from his appreciative reaction, it was evident that he was tired.
"You won't stop till I pay some attention, will you?" He asked as he indicated that she does not stop with the massage.
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