Helios Renewed (The Helios Chronicles #3)

by Tawa M. Witko

  He was now well accustomed to the treatment regime at TRC. What he found was that he could handle the group therapy fairly easily as he didn’t have to participate all the time and tended to learn a lot from the other men’s experiences. Individual therapy was another matter. It was a lot harder for him to deal with. His therapist was a man named Craig. He was an older guy with graying hair. Half the time, Andrew felt as if he was just shooting the breeze with him, and then suddenly Craig would throw something at him about his mom or dad and how that affected his self-worth, which made it easier for him to use. By the time Craig was done, Andrew always had a headache. Craig would laugh about that and tell him, ‘That’s a good thing. It’s how you know you are changing neural pathways and changing the way you think.’ He would then toss him a bite size candy bar, usually a snickers, and tell him he was doing good work. Andrew came to the conclusion that therapy was not for the faint of heart.

  “Before we get started, I wanted to remind everyone that art therapy was moved to tomorrow morning instead of tomorrow evening,” Spencer stated quickly, watching as everyone in the circle nodded their heads in understanding.

  Art therapy, now that was something Andrew enjoyed. The instructor was some sort of certified art therapist. Andrew didn’t even know someone could get a degree in that. She came down twice a week to facilitate a group with them. It was interesting for Andrew in that he always suspected that his art served some form of purpose for him. He had thought that it was primarily to calm him, to help him forget, but he was now learning that it was so much more than that. She was teaching him that it was a way to expunge his past and dream for the future.

  “Hey, Andrew?” Sam called to him, bringing him out of his thoughts.

  “Yeah.”

  “You gonna be done with my girl’s picture by this weekend. She’s visiting and I want to give it to her.”

  Andrew nodded. “I’m actually done with it.”

  Sam smiled. “No shit, really?”

  “I’ll show you after group.”

  Sam reached his fist out for Andrew to tap. Andrew grinned and tapped it. He liked Sam. He was a black man in his forties, pretty cool. Alcohol had been his drug of choice. He was one of the guys that had been in prison as well. They had actually just missed each other at County, which both found interesting, wondering if they would have been friends inside. Sam reminded Andrew a lot of Randall, same mannerisms and attitude, which made his heart ache in a way, but he couldn’t let that deter him from what he was there to do.

  “Hey, does that mean you can start on mine?” Adam asked.

  “I already have an idea I want to run by you.”

  “Cool,” Adam said with a smile and head nod.

  A week after he had arrived, Andrew surprised Jeff with a drawing of the Clippers logo stomping on the Lakers logo. Andrew didn’t consider it one of his bests. He had done it for fun, primarily because Sam and Jeff had been arguing all week about the two franchises. Jeff, however, loved it. It was proudly displayed above his side of the dresser so he could see it all the time.

  Once the guys realized that Andrew could draw, they had all asked for pictures of some sort. Andrew didn’t mind, it kept his mind occupied and he loved the fact that the guys were always so pleased with what he did. In a way, he saw it as a way he could help them. Maybe when they looked at it they would remember where they got it and would remember what they learned at TRC. At least that’s what Andrew hoped would happen.

  “Let’s get started,” Spencer announced.

  ~*~

  Andrew kneeled, concentrating on the painting before him. His paint brush lay securely in his mouth as he pushed his hair out of his face with the palm of his hand. He took the corner of the sponge and dabbed lightly around the edges of the figure, making it blend further into the background. There were footsteps approaching and he knew that someone was now standing behind him but he didn’t stop what he was doing.

  “How are things coming along, Andrew?”

  He set the sponge down and removed the paint brush from between his lips. “I think I’m about done.”

  He stood up and looked at Carol, his art therapist. She was a short woman, extremely short, with a full head of gray hair. She always wore a smock and a pair of glasses around her neck on a beaded chain. She had told them that she had been a painter before deciding to go back to school to become a therapist later in life. When she found that there were actual art therapy programs, she knew it was her perfect fit and it became her calling. She had used herself as an example of how sometimes something unexpected can change your life forever.

  “What do you think?” he asked hesitantly.

  She was considering the painting before her, taking it all in. She had asked the group last week to paint their addiction. Many had done a lot of rudimentary type displays. All of them were good and representative of the individual’s concepts of their addiction but Andrew didn’t complete his. He had asked if he could still work on it. Knowing that he had a proclivity for art, she agreed and gave him a pass on the newest assignment so he could finish this one. She did not regret that decision one single bit. The painting was magnificent.

  “Carol,” Andrew said nervously.

  She ignored him and studied every nuance of what he had done. The painting encompassed a large bird rising out of a sea of flames. In the body of the flames he had infused several smaller images, the most prominent one was a man kneeling in the center of the flames. The man was dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt and had his back to the viewer. You could see that he was looking at his hands. In one hand he held a needle and in the other was a black zipped up bag, the size of a small paperback novel. Around the man were other images, some smaller, some a bit larger. They were hard to find, often blended in flawlessly with the background, but once you spotted them they became perfectly clear. She found an alley, various drug paraphernalia, a darkened silhouette holding something in its hand, what appeared to be a jail cell with shadowy hands reaching down toward a man sitting in the corner of a room. The man had his hands over his drooped head and looked pitiful. She also found a bed with what looked like snakes rising from the sheets, and, finally, another man leaning against a brick wall. His hands were in his pockets and he was looking at the ground. Her eyes lifted up to the bird. The detail on it was stunningly accurate, in particular, the feathers that were closest to the flames. He had depicted them burning. The bird itself looked as if it were struggling. Its wings were in motion as its beak opened and reached for the sky. The way Andrew had illustrated the eyes made it seem like the bird was in pain, screaming, as flames formed into hands that reached up, latching on to the bird’s torso, attempting to pull it down into the fire. Finally, above, intermixed with the sky was a woman’s hand. It was barely discernible as it blended with the various blues that made up the background. The only reason one’s eyes could find it was because a ring was visible on her hand. A ring that consisted of a diamond that shone brightly, like a piece of the sun itself, with a crescent moon, star and circle on each side.

  “Tell me about it,” she finally choked out, already moved by the images in the painting.

  Andrew ran his hand through his hair as the other residents gathered around him. He heard mumbling and wondered what they were thinking about it.

  “Holy shit! Andrew! That belongs in a freaking museum!” Jeff stated unfiltered.

  “Gentleman, let’s give Andrew a chance to tell us about his painting.”

  Andrew looked at his arm and the phoenix represented there. He ran his hand gently over the image that masked the marks of his previous life on the streets. The life he had as an addict, doing unspeakable things just to get his next fix.

  “When I first got out of prison, I stayed with my aunt and uncle. I wasn’t using but I was not in a great place.”

  “Been there, done that,” Adam replied with a sigh.

  “My uncle told me a story about the legend of the phoenix. How it has to die to be born again.”
Andrew glanced down at his forearm. “So, umm, when I decided to cover my track marks, I chose to have a phoenix put there to remind me of what he said. To, I don’t know, make me think I could have another chance at life. Afterward, every time I looked at it, I remembered what my uncle said and I don’t know, it helped me, you know, to not use.”

  Andrew turned to face the painting. He looked at all he had put in it. It was probably one of the best paintings he had done to date. Maybe that was because he was looking at this painting differently. It wasn’t a random thought he was having or recreating an event that already occurred. He was purposefully trying to convey something, a message. As he saw what he had done, he realized that the struggle for his soul was clearly represented on the canvas before him.

  “When you asked us to paint our addiction, I had so many visuals pop into my head all at once. Foremost, of course, was the phoenix.” He paused and breathed in deeply. “In this picture, the phoenix is me, rising, or at least trying to.”

  He heard words of affirmation but he was momentarily lost in the acceptance of what he had just said. I am the phoenix, he repeated in his head. I will rise again, he thought as he blew out a long breath. This was the first time that he actually accepted that thought. Aaron told him consistently that he was the phoenix, and Madison had even written it in her inscription, but until that particular moment, he had never embraced it fully. There was tremendous relief in the thought. A burden he hadn’t realized he was carrying was starting to rise above him. He took another deep breath and began again.

  “The fire represents my life, or should I say my life as an addict.” He paused for a moment as he contemplated where he should begin. “When I woke after the accident, I kept having visions of using. This man is me as well,” he circled his finger above the kneeling man. “That’s how I saw myself in the hospital.”

  “Do you still see yourself that way?” Carol asked.

  Andrew shook his head. “No, not anymore.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I can see that I’m more than all of this.” He ran the palm of his hand above the bottom of the painting. “The life I led on the streets. The things I did for money. The people I hurt and the people that hurt me. That’s all a part of me, but it’s not me.”

  He heard several more affirmations from his friends.

  “But the addiction is always going to try and grab hold of me,” he motioned towards the flames trying to pull the phoenix under. “I just have to stay focused on what matters.” He smiled as he circled the hand coming out from the sky. “This is Madison. Even if I can’t see her, I know that she will always be there, reaching for me. She sees the best in me and...” His hand went through his hair again. “I want to be the man she sees. She’s my center.”

  “How did it feel to put all of that in this painting?”

  Andrew breathed in and turned to face her. “It was freeing.”

  She smiled as she addressed all of them. “It’s liberating to release those thoughts and feelings from within us. Sometimes we don’t have the words to say what’s going on but we can still express it.” She made eye contact with each of the men in the room. “Our life is felt out here in the open, not inside. Holding it in causes us to shut people out. It becomes toxic until it is expelled.” She touched her chest and made a motion with her hands as if something was coming out of her. “It’s your choice how you decide to release it.”

  The men nodded and several went over and tapped Andrew’s shoulder, telling him he had done a great job. When the men left to continue working on their own paintings, Andrew noticed that Carol was studying his painting again. Her arms were crossed over her chest and then she brought out the magnifying glass she always carried in her jacket pocket. She had told them that she liked to get close to the paintings so that she could see the texture of the stroke. She then stepped back and glanced at Andrew, letting her glasses drop down again.

  “Andrew. This is probably one of the best paintings I have seen in a long time. It’s truly a masterpiece. Would you mind if I took a few pictures of it?”

  Andrew smiled at the compliment. He knew that she had been a professional painter, so her input was invaluable to him. If she thought it was good then it probably was. He nodded his assent.

  “Go right ahead. I’m just glad you liked it. I think it’s one of the best ones I’ve done.”

  “It’s exquisite, Andrew,” she said as she took out her phone and starting taking pictures from varying angles. “I know your sketch work is fantastic but I think you have found your niche with this. Your use of colors and blending is better than some of the art students in the master’s class I teach. Are you interested in pursuing a career in art?” she asked as she glanced at him.

  “Umm, I don’t know. I think Jayden and I are gonna open our shop again once the insurance money comes through. Art has always been sort of a hobby for me.”

  She rested her hands on her hips. “The kind of passion you have displayed here tells me that it’s more than a hobby.”

  He shrugged. The thought of doing something he couldn’t do with Jayden and Connor made him cringe. He enjoyed waking up every day and going to work just to hang out with them. If he solely did art then he would miss so much. He wasn’t sure he was ready for anything like that, even though he liked the idea of just being able to paint or draw.

  “It’s rare that I see someone with such raw talent,” she reached over and rested her hand on his shoulder. “It’s something to consider, okay?”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  She smiled and walked away, checking in with the other men who were busy working on their canvases. He looked at his painting again and was pleased. He couldn’t wait to share it with Madison, Jayden, and Callie this weekend when they came to visit. Just that thought alone brought happiness to his heart. He had three more days. He could do that!

  29 Visitation Day

  Only two of the six residents were having visitors, Andrew and Sam. Both of which were pacing around the room in anticipation. For Andrew, this would be the first time that Jayden had felt up to coming. His burns made it difficult for him to sit for long periods of time so he had reluctantly waited until the doctor gave him the go ahead. From what Madison said, Jayden all but bit the doctor’s head off before he hesitantly gave the go ahead. Madison on the other hand, had been there every weekend like clockwork. She usually came by herself but had brought Aaron and Olivia a few times already as well. Andrew was beyond excited to see them. He had already arranged to meet with them outside, under the gazebo out back. Now he just needed them to get there. The doorbell rang and both Sam and Andrew stopped pacing and stared at the door.

  “Andrew, your family is here,” Spencer said, answering the door.

  Madison stepped through the door and immediately ran to him. Her arms swung around his neck as he lifted her up. He buried his head in her hair as he spun her in a circle. He missed everything about her. Madison entwined her hands in the back of his hair and whispered how much she loved and missed him. It was music to his ears. He kissed her strongly but maintained awareness of where he was at. He hugged her again and then released her as he looked up and saw Jayden and Callie and, much to his surprise, Ellie.

  “Andrew, you look great!” Callie said, coming up to them and giving him a hug.

  Andrew grinned as Jayden handed Ellie to Callie and gave him their standard man hug. Andrew didn’t reciprocate though, instead he pulled him into a tight hug. It had been too long. He missed his friend almost as much as he missed Madison.

  “I missed you, man,” Andrew laughed.

  “Missed you too.”

  “I think Ellie wants her uncle,” Callie interrupted as Ellie was reaching out for Andrew.

  Andrew took her from Callie and she immediately giggled and grabbed on to his hair. “Do you miss me, Ellie?”

  Ellie giggled again and the four friends laughed.

  “Andrew, why don’t you take your family outside,” Spencer suggested.


  Andrew nodded and shifted Ellie to one side and took Madison’s hand in his as he started to lead them out the back door towards the Gazebo. The grounds at TRC were well manicured and set up nicely. There were a couple of picnic tables near an outdoor grill and then the gazebo to the left. Earlier, Andrew and Jeff had brought out four chairs and placed them in there for them to use on their visit.

  “Oh this is really nice,” Callie said looking around.

  “I’ll give you a tour of the inside later,” Andrew stated as they approached the gazebo.

  “We try to stay away from everyone else because some of the guys never have any visitors and we don’t want them to feel bad,” Madison remarked as they stepped onto the gazebo.

  “That’s so sad,” Callie said, glancing back towards the house.

  “It is. These are some great guys,” Andrew said and then smirked. “Except for Carl, he’s an asshole, but I suppose somebody must miss him.”

  Madison grinned and smacked his arm. “Be nice, Helios.”

  “I am nice, aren’t I, Ellie?” he said as Ellie giggled and pawed at his face.

  “Andrew, guess what?” When Andrew looked up at him, Jayden continued. “We got the insurance money this week.”

  “Wow, that’s kind of fast.”

  “Yeah, well, it helps when your dad’s an attorney and speaks to the head of the insurance company.”

  They all laughed. “Papa Bad Ass,” Andrew said with a chuckle.