The Gift of Fall

by Alex Leu

  “No!” he answered his own question before Celine could even utter a sound.

  “We work our asses off for you to get the best education possible so that you can become somebody!”

  Celine felt both irritated yet incredibly guilty as she stared at her parents from across the table. Her father’s raspy voice was a dead giveaway of how the fumes he inhaled each day were slowly killing him. And she could barely recognize her own mother at times due to the signs of fatigue she bore on her once beautiful face. Their age was settling on their faces a lot faster than it should, and Celine felt powerless and torn between making her parents proud and doing what she loved most.

  “So what's going to happen is that after dinner you'll go to your room and gather all your art tools and hand them over.”

  “No, please!” Celine cried. “I won't do it anymore, I promise!”

  “Exactly! You won't,” said her father. “Because if you do get caught again, you're going to be expelled, and that can't happen! Did I make myself clear young lady?”

  Celine grabbed onto the chair she sat on, her nails sinking into the old wood. She looked down and nodded.

  Why were they doing this to her? Weren’t her parents supposed to help her fight for what she loved? She understood their reasoning but deep inside it still didn’t make sense. Didn’t they learn anything from their own unhappiness? Now they were forcing her to do the same thing! There must be another way. She unclenched her teeth and slowly let go of the chair, feeling utterly defeated.

  “You're old enough to be responsible for your own actions, Celine,” said her father. “I thought that you were serious about making something of your life and getting out of this poverty, but you’ve shown us that we have to be the ones to push you. You’re supposed to be the first in our family to finish college, you are going to be a doctor for Christ’s sake, Celine! You will never get to be a starving artist, so stop acting like one and get your act together!”

  Celine stared at her mother, who still couldn’t face her, hoping that she’d come to her rescue, but she never came. Holding back her tears, Celine stormed out of the kitchen to her sanctuary upstairs.

  The mother watched Celine disappear into the house as her hand reached under the table to hold on to her husband’s. They both had cold sweats.

  “Do you think we are doing the right thing?” she whispered.

  “I hope so... Anything to save her from the struggles our parents put us through.”

  Not five minutes later Celine rushed back into the kitchen and dropped a large box onto the table. It held oils, paints, brushes, and all her hopes and dreams.

  “I'm sorry for disappointing you,” Celine said.

  “But you didn't, we just...” her mother tried to explain but Celine ran out of the kitchen and abandoned her parents in silence.

  A loud bang from the second floor shook the old house and dust fell out through the many cracks in the walls. As the dust settled atop the box that held everything dear to their daughter, the mother felt the tears fill her eyes.

  “There is no going back, there can't be,” whispered the father ashamed of his own words. “Only if we see her behavior and grades improve, then, maybe...” he tried to console himself, but he knew that what he had just done was much bigger than grades and attitude. He also knew that he had to stick to his decision and get it out of Celine's head, for her own good.

  Tears poured down the mother’s face and she walked out of the kitchen leaving her husband alone with the box to dispose of.

  He looked at the box and could see the smile on Celine’s face whenever she painted. How could he take that away from her? He cursed the world they were living in, his poorly paid job, even himself. Was it all a lie? Why did he teach Celine to follow her heart only to punish her later for following his advice? He hugged the box close to this chest and laid his head on it before he too succumbed to the tears within him.

  < >

  The next morning Celine packed her lunch without saying a word to either of her parents then headed for the door, not looking back.

  “Do you think she’ll put these silly artist dreams behind her?” the father whispered.

  “She's more like you than you care to admit,” said the mother. “We both know she won't. I just hope she gets smarter about it.”

  She leaned against her husband affectionately. They held each other close as they watched Celine go around the house to pick up a small plastic bag hanging from her room's window and then run off to school.

  Her parents smiled at each other. There was hope. There was still hope that their daughter’s spirit wasn’t crushed, that it would fight to make room for itself in this unfair world. They tightly embraced each other until they couldn’t, until it was time to go to work.

  < >

  Celine sat on a bench under a large oak tree and admired the serene silence of her school's empty front yard. It was only going to stay that way for another twenty minutes or so before it was invaded by the noise of her classmates, so she reached into the plastic bag and took out a sketchbook and a few oil paints.

  With the first touch of color on the white canvas, Celine immersed herself in her perfect version of the school's imperfect park. The brush in her hands was like the wind, brushing against the beautiful shapes of that peaceful place and making it all she wished it could be.

  “You're too kind to this school.”

  Celine jumped up and looked around but couldn’t see anyone.

  “This school could never look as lush and beautiful as you painted it.”

  Billy jumped down from the tree above her, realizing almost instantly that he had frightened her.

  “Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to scare you. May I join you?”

  Celine blushed and nodded as she closed her sketchbook. She had hoped to see him again, but not now, not yet, she wasn’t ready. There was something about Billy that drew her to him, even the way he leaped from the tree above them left her mesmerized, so poised and elegant. She tried to look into his gleaming eyes but it was too much, too soon. She looked away.

  “What are you doing here?” he said. “This school is not worthy of your talent.”

  Oh God, he had seen her work. Celine pressed the sketchbook tightly against her chest as if doing so would make it invisible. She tried to enjoy this moment and bask in the sheer beauty of someone actually liking her work, but it was somehow hard to accept. Billy didn’t know anything about art or her, he was only saying what he thought she wanted to hear. Slowly all the negative comments she had heard over the years overpowered Billy’s and only made her doubt herself even more. Art was just a hobby. She put the sketchbook down and sank onto the bench.

  “I'm just... I don't want to be a starving artist,” she repeated her father’s deprecating words.

  Billy looked at her in astonishment then sat down beside her.

  “Who says you're going to be one? Can I see it one more time?” he said.

  Celine wasn’t used to this sudden interest in her work and letting someone see it could expose her to even more pain than she already felt. Though he seemed different from everyone else she had ever met, could she trust him? She was torn between reaching out to him with the same kindness he had shown her or running away from it all. She gripped the sketchbook tighter to her chest contemplating every possible outcome.

  Billy watched her torment and recognized himself a few years back. He felt Celine’s fingers strangling the sketchbook and desperately wanted to gain her trust, to give her what no one had given him.

  “Please, I'll give it back,” Billy said softly as he reached out and touched her shoulder. “I promise.”

  The warmth of his hand and his voice slowly melted her doubts away. After a deep breath, she finally handed him the sketchbook that held so many secret parts of herself. She watched him closely as he examined the drawings, feeling the knot in her stomach grow bigger.

  “Well,” Billy finally said with a serious tone, “I'd give you a
B+ for the creativity, but this isn't art class, is it?”

  They looked at each other for a moment and broke into uninhibited laughter. It felt safe. A foreign feeling, but one they were both longing for.

  “And if you were honest?” Celine asked cautiously. For some reason, she wanted to know Billy’s opinion, something that had never mattered to her before.

  He smiled sweetly before responding, “Then I'd say that the trees look a little naked, how about some leaves?”

  Celine looked confused. She knew what she had painted, but at that moment she wasn’t sure. Looking down she examined her last painting, and puzzled, looked back at Billy.

  “But... they do have leaves.”

  Billy searched the painting again, more closely, then looked away as if utterly ashamed.

  “I'm sorry, I just...” his voice hitched holding back tears. “After the accident, my eye... I can't see colors the way I used to.”

  Fearing what her eyes would tell him, Billy cautiously lifted his gaze to meet hers.

  “Please don't tell anyone,” he said.

  Celine didn’t know what to say, she couldn’t imagine being unable to view colors the way they were supposed to look. She looked into Billy’s lovely green eyes and felt as though she was the first person to look past everything on the outside and see Billy for who he really was. Behind the weird prosthetic hand, the scary cold eye implant, the face patch, behind the monster the world saw, there was Billy. The boy who seemed more human than anyone else she’s ever met.

  “I won't, I promise,” she whispered.

  Billy reached into her bag of art supplies and retrieved an extra paintbrush, he dipped it gently into the orange paint and handed it back to Celine.

  “I love the fall,” he said. “It's the only time I can see the beauty of the trees and their leaves.”

  “Have you ever seen Central Park in the fall?”

  “Not yet. I haven't gone out much since the accident. And... I can’t remember anything before that,” he explained sadly.

  “When the last leaf turns orange...” she felt like she was on new territory and didn’t quite know how this worked. Was he supposed to ask first, or her? Suddenly it all felt so irrelevant as she looked at him, “...we can go see the trees, if you’d like...” she said shyly.

  He stared into her beautiful kind eyes that were full of hope and something he hadn’t felt or seen in such a long time... acceptance.

  Celine smiled at him, terrified that she may have scared him. When he smiled at her, she felt a knot in her stomach, Billy was giving her something that no one else ever had... hope.

  It wasn’t long before the school’s front lawn was overcrowded with noise, frustration, and the juvenile antics of their classmates. Yet, Celine and Billy remained in their own silent bubble, unaware of anything but each other. Soon, the first bell rang, forcing them to make their way to class. Not a word was said. All each could hear were the sounds of their minds racing, dreaming, and hoping. For a few moments, everything seemed perfect and wonderful, but neither of them could have been prepared for what awaited them inside.

  Far across the schoolyard, from the shadow of a dying tree, two burning eyes were watching them, conniving and plotting, as Celine and Billy went up the stairs and entered the school. Egon slowly stepped into the light and followed them inside, smirking as he planned his revenge.

  < >

  Celine's fingers itched to draw something all throughout math class. With every number and formula she wrote in her notebook, she felt the pen pull her hand and imagination into a beautiful scenic garden with tons of trees bearing orange leaves. Celine quickly shook the images from her mind, she couldn't let her parents down, not again.

  A horrific scream disturbed her focus. She turned back to face Billy but instead saw him running out of the class holding onto his prosthetic arm.

  “Where does he go all the time?” asked a student.

  “That’s none of your concern Mary,” snapped the teacher. “Everyone get back to work!”

  Not fifteen minutes passed when Billy returned. Something was different, something was wrong. His gaze was lifeless and he slowly dragged his feet back to his desk. He collapsed onto his chair, staring right past Celine to the blackboard.

  Celine tried to recapture his attention, but nothing worked. It was Billy’s body, but it wasn’t him sitting there behind her. He stared through space, through her.

  “Hey...” she whispered, desperately trying to bring back the boy who had made her heart pound and her eyes shine, her Billy, but he was gone.

  Celine turned back towards the board feeling as though she had been played with, her feelings stomped on. She held her notebook against her chest, ready to tear it apart. She felt like such a fool for even trying, for trusting! The bell rang and she grudgingly let go of the notebook as everyone ran out of class, leaving only her and Billy.

  He still refused to acknowledge her. Resentfully, she packed her bag hoping Billy would show her any sign that he was still him, but nothing. His lifeless body remained stiff and indifferent. She stood quickly to leave the room when it all started...

  “Hey, who took my headphones?!” yelled a student from the adjacent locker.

  More yelling followed as Celine ran out to her own locker only to discover that her paints and all her remaining art supplies were missing. They were all she had left, she knew she couldn’t afford another set and her parents were never going to buy more either. Tears welled up in her eyes as she frantically searched in the surrounding lockers hoping to find any of her paints, but nothing.

  Panic and mistrust took over the entire hallway, students were running around searching everywhere for their belongings, the school had become a havoc zone.

  “He stole everything!” yelled a girl and all the students turned to face her, hoping she had some answers. “It was him, it was Billy!” she screeched.

  Celine ran back into the room where Billy sat barely conscious.

  She grabbed his shoulders trying to shake him awake, “Please, tell me that it wasn't you!” she begged.

  “What are you talking about?” he mumbled almost incoherently.

  “Billy, please. Talk to me! Tell me it wasn’t you, it couldn’t have been you!”

  “What happened?” he asked confused, completely unaware of what she was talking about.

  She searched his eyes for answers, any answers, but couldn't find anything. Celine ran out of class in tears.

  Billy pushed himself up, trying to follow her, but couldn't keep his balance and came crashing down onto the floor between the desks.

  Celine ran through the hall, despite hearing a loud thud come from the classroom and locked herself in the bathroom finally succumbing to her tears.

  It took her awhile, but she eventually calmed down. Staring at her red puffy eyes in the mirror, she felt intense hatred for herself. How could she do this to him? She prayed that he’d forget her attitude and mistrust. But why? She couldn't understand what had caused him to act so differently after his mid-class escape. Was he drinking? Was he on drugs? Did he steal all the things to pay for his addiction? No! It couldn’t have been him, he was different. She washed all the thoughts with an ice-cold splash of water and hoped that it had all been a dream.

  When Celine finally emerged from the bathroom, the halls were empty. Where had everyone gone? She slowly returned to class and felt torn between her concern and anger. If he had a problem, why didn’t he come to her? Why did he resort to this? As she walked through the door, she could only stare at the floor, she couldn’t bear to look into his eyes. When she finally did look up, Billy wasn’t there. She searched the classroom but couldn’t find him. Billy was gone.

  Celine fell into her seat. It was all a dream! Everyone was back in their seats, things were back to normal. Everything in its place — all painful, depressing, and comfortable. She wiped her eyes and prepared for the next class.

  Suddenly an ambulance siren drummed loudly from outside, e
veryone ran up towards the windows except for Celine.

  “Look!” someone shouted. “It's him!”

  Celine suddenly came back to life and rushed to the windows to search for Billy. There he was, blood splattered all over his clothes, being forced inside the school by the principal and a security officer. What was happening? Was he hurt? Maybe he needed her. Celine rushed for the door only to feel two hands grasp her shoulders to stop her.

  “Everyone back to your seats!” Mrs. Roberts ordered, staring straight into Celine’s eyes. “Now!”

  Hearing the resolution in her voice, the other students returned to their assigned seats, including Celine.

  Seconds... minutes... hours passed and Billy had yet to come back to class. Celine chewed on her pen and fidgeted with her dress as the anxiety turned into panic. Why? Why did this have to happen? No one had ever looked at her the way Billy had. No one had ever gotten close enough for her to want to share her work. As Celine sat there imagining Billy and the way he had made her feel, she cursed herself for ever doubting his innocence. Soon Celine noticed that she had bitten straight through the pen cap, and her restless fingers were pulling on the now loose thread that used to hold the hem of her dress up. She feared what it was doing to her.

  Finally, the last bell of the day rang, and for the first time, Celine didn't want to go home. She desperately searched the halls for him until she was forced to go home by a loud announcement blaring from the speaker right above her. How she resented every single step that took her farther away from him.

  As she walked down the hallway, nearly reaching her exit, Celine heard loud voices coming from the principal's office. She carefully pressed her ears against the door hoping to hear anything that could tell her what had happened to Billy.

  “If it helps, I'll waive the tuition fee for the next two years but please don't take your son away!” begged the principal. “It was a mistake to let the government test him in our school and I promise you — I'll get rid of him as fast as I can.”