Art & Soul

by Brittainy C. Cherry

  Then, one day everything changed. The fighting stopped. They both grew tired. Sometimes they would whisper things to one another, other times they moved right past each other as if neither one of them existed.

  I missed the fighting.

  * * *

  “I read something interesting,” Dr. Ward said, leaning back in his chair. I was confused by the sudden change to the start of this meeting.

  “Where’s the candy bowl?” I asked.

  “Oh. No candy today.”

  I didn’t like that. I didn’t like the change. The pens on his desks weren’t blue anymore. They were red. I didn’t like that, either. The couch had new yellow throw pillows. His office was the same, but…different.

  “As I was saying,” he continued. No. You’re only supposed to say two things. “I researched some more on Salvador after last week’s conversation. He had a painting called My Dead Brother. He used pop art to create it actually, did you know that?”

  Of course I knew that.

  “Of course you know that. Anyway, Salvador said something that struck me. He said, ‘Every day, I kill the image of my poor brother…I assassinate him regularly, for the ‘Divine Dali’ cannot have anything in common with this former terrestrial being.’ Interesting, huh?”

  I wiggled in my seat, uncomfortable with the quote. “Ask me what’s on my mind,” I ordered.

  He shook his head. “Not today.”

  Why? Why did he have to be so difficult today? Why did he have to break the normality that we’d fallen into?

  Why did things have to change?

  “You’re about sixteen weeks pregnant now, right?”

  My eyes welled up with tears because he was seeing me, even when all I wanted to be was invisible. “Seventeen weeks.”

  “You’re not the same person you were a few months ago, are you? That girl’s gone now, isn’t she?”

  I nodded again.

  “But maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s okay to no longer be the person we thought we were meant to be. Maybe it’s okay to just be who we are now and accept that.”

  “But I messed up. I messed up my family’s future.”

  “That’s the thing about the future, and the past even. They don’t exist in this moment. We only have the here and now. If we focus too much on the past or too heavily on the future, we miss out on our present desires, the things we want right now.”

  I cried in his office for the first time, breaking down because I was no longer the person I used to be. I was someone new, someone that my father didn’t love and my mother pitied; I worried too much about what that meant for our future.

  Dr. Ward handed me a Kleenex, and I blew my nose in it.

  He crossed his arms, studying my every broken down movement. “What do you want, Aria?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “What do you want?” He repeated himself like it was the easiest question ever.

  I cried some more, because I knew what I wanted, but I thought it made me an awful kind of person.

  I wanted to have the baby.

  But I didn’t want to keep it.

  * * *

  “How was the meeting?” Mom asked me, driving away from Dr. Ward’s office.

  “Awful,” I sobbed. “He’s really awful. I never want to go back again.”

  “Good.” She smiled, nodding. “Good, good, good. I’m glad you have someone to talk to.”

  Me too.

  27 Levi

  I hadn’t spoken to Aria or Simon in a week. When Aria and I worked on our project, she used as few words as possible to get her points across. She was cold, distant. It wasn’t until Friday that she actually took notice of me.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, walking up to Simon, Abigail, and Aria.

  “It’s Abigail,” Aria whispered, her eyes wide. “She’s not…moving.”

  My eyes locked in on the girl, and a part of me didn’t believe it was Abigail. She was wearing jeans and a plain black T-shirt that hugged her body. No high heels—just tennis shoes.

  “Abigail?” I asked, waving my hand in front of her face. Her crystal blue eyes were wide, but I couldn’t read her thoughts. “What’s going on?”

  “She’s not talking, either. No movements, no words,” Simon explained. “She’s officially broken.”

  We stood in front of her as the hallways cleared and everyone hurried to their first hour class after the bell rang. The hallways went silent, and Abigail didn’t budge.

  “She’s never been late to class.” Aria frowned. “Hell is freezing over right now as we speak.”

  Abigail blinked.

  Our eyes widened as if shocked by the small movement of her eyes.

  “I’m having a party at my house tonight. You’re all invited,” Abigail said before walking off.

  Slowly.

  Without haste.

  At a normal walking pace.

  What. The. Hell?

  * * *

  We showed up to Abigail’s house at the same time, and when I asked Aria if she was still upset with me, she told me not to speak to her, so I took that as a yes.

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t even know why I’m here. I’m still pretty annoyed with Abigail after she flatly rejected me with no reason,” Simon said, fixing his tie. The fact that he was wearing a tie made me realize that even though he said he was still mad, he still cared what this girl thought of him. “But I just had to know what an Abigail party would be like. It just seems—weird.”

  Aria rang the doorbell to Abigail’s house while Simon kept un-tucking and re-tucking his plaid button-down shirt into his belted jeans.

  When the door opened, an older woman with blonde hair and blue eyes matching Abigail’s appeared. “Hi! You must be Abbi’s friends. I’ve heard so much about you three!” She smiled bright, inviting us inside. “I’m her mom, Nancy. Come on in! We are just getting everything going with the games and things. It means the world to us that you came!”

  We followed her into their huge living room where balloons covered the ceiling and a bunch of people who looked exactly like Abigail were sitting around, laughing, eating appetizers, and dancing around the room. The energy of the place was explosive. Over the fireplace was a huge banner that read, “Abbi’s CF Party!”

  Abigail walked up to us, still doing that weird normal walking pace thing and still wearing normal clothes. She smiled big. “Hey! Thanks for coming. Follow me and you can put your coats in my bedroom, come on.”

  We all eyed one another, but did as she said and followed her toward her room. Abigail’s bedroom walls were covered in the same positive quotes that she spouted off to us daily.

  “You can toss your coats onto my bed. Then we can go—”

  “Time out,” Simon cut in. “What’s a CF party exactly?”

  Abigail’s eyes fell to Simon’s, and she shrugged, nonchalant. “A cancer-free party.”

  “Why the heck would you have a—” Simon lowered his brows and shook his head back and forth. “Wait, what?”

  “Abigail, you have cancer?” Aria blurted out, her eyes wide with confusion.

  I was the only one who knew this already, but the shock that filled Simon’s and Aria’s faces made my stomach flip.

  “Had. As of a few days ago, we just found out that it’s all—”

  “WHAT THE FUCK?!” Simon shouted, his body tense, his fists tightened. “WHAT IN THE GODDAMN HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU HAD CANCER?!”

  He was fuming, moments away from falling apart.

  “What does it matter?” Abigail asked, raising a brow. “Why are you so upset? It’s gone.”

  Simon huffed and puffed, scratching at the back of his neck. “Right. So that just makes it okay? So the way we find out that you had cancer is at a freaking cancer-free party with yellow and purple effing balloons?!”

  “They’re my favorite colors,” Abigail explained, blinking rapidly. “I don’t understand why you’re so mad. I invited you to the party.”

  He pounded
his fist against his mouth and shouted, “How fucking considerate!” He hurried out of the room, kicking the few yellow and purple balloons that were floating around the ground.

  After Simon stormed out of Abigail’s room, I followed him to make sure he was all right.

  He wasn’t. He stood in the living room with her family, popping and kicking as many balloons as possible. I gave Abigail’s family a tight smile, grabbed Simon’s arm, and pulled him out of the house.

  Simon stood on the front porch, pacing, shouting as if he were still fighting with Abigail. “How could you be so fucking selfish?!” he screamed. “A cancer-free party when no one knew you had cancer?!”

  “Si,” I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. He hastily turned to face me.

  “Can you believe that?! Who would do that to someone?!” His nostrils flared as he went back to his quick pacing.

  “She’s okay, though. The cancer’s gone.”

  “But what if she wasn’t?!” he cried, slamming his body down to sit on the top step of the porch. The palms of his hands brushed against his brow before he stared forward. “What if she wasn’t okay? You don’t understand. One day my sister was there, and then she wasn’t. Would it have been like that with Abigail? Would we have just walked into school, expecting to hear her quote some random old guy at our table but then she would’ve never shown up? And then would the principal get on the loud speaker and tell us that one of our classmates met an untimely death due to her battle with cancer? Gah! That girl pisses me off so damn much!”

  I sat down beside him, staring forward also. We sat there until his breathing slowed, and his anger subsided. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with his T-shirt, then said, “It’s weird the way you can walk by people every single day of your life and never truly know their story.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to stop,” Abigail said, standing in her doorway. “Nobody really messes with you when you’re the weird girl who dresses funny. I was supposed to keep moving nonstop, finding my way through day after day, never taking a break, never stopping to notice things. Because when you notice things, you start realizing how much you’re missing out on and when you realize how much you’re missing out on, you’ll get sad that you’re dying because you are going to miss so much. And once you’re sad, you get depressed, and you have to do everything you can to stay positive during cancer because your parents already cry enough and you already feel bad daily, so you remind yourself to keep moving, keep busy, keep fighting, but you can’t allow anyone else into your tiny bubble because you don’t need anyone else to feel bad for you.

  “But then I made a mistake on my way to the bathroom, and I saw Aria taking things off of her locker, and she looked so sad. So I stopped. Even though I shouldn’t have.” Her eyes fell to Simon and she softly spoke, “And then I saw you, too.”

  Simon hadn’t looked at Abigail once since she started speaking. He was staring at his tennis shoes, tapping his feet repeatedly.

  “Simon,” I whispered.

  He nodded. “I know.”

  He stood up, loosened his shoulders, and walked toward Abigail. She parted her lips to speak again, but was stopped when Simon pressed his lips against hers. At first, Abigail was thrown off by Simon’s sudden embrace, but it only took a few seconds before she started kissing him back.

  Way to go, Simon.

  ***

  There was a freedom that washed over Abigail after she realized she’d cheated death. Life shone through her. She laughed differently. She smiled differently. She was different.

  That night we all danced around the living room, tossing balloons, eating too much cake, and laughing too hard. We were all small parts of Abigail’s soundtrack that night, adding to the vibrant feel of joy, happiness, and the idea of tomorrow.

  As I watched Aria spin with Abigail, giggling like fools, my chest tightened when I locked eyes with Aria. Her smile faded.

  Her lips parted as her eyes filled with guilt.

  It wasn’t fair of me to somewhat feel pity for myself and Dad’s situation while Abigail was so happy. I shouldn’t have been so selfish.

  But truthfully, I felt awful.

  So I hurried away to the bathroom for a breather.

  * * *

  “I’m fine,” I said, turning to see Aria in the doorway of the bathroom. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “I’m happy for her,” I said, nodding once. “I really am, it’s just…a part of me wishes it was my Dad’s party.” I clasped my hands behind my neck. “We shouldn’t be talking.”

  “Just one minute, Levi.”

  We stood still for sixty seconds.

  I counted each and every second.

  Time traveled way faster than I wanted it to.

  One minute was up and we had to go back to the place where we didn’t talk, where we pretended that we didn’t feel the things we knew we felt. She turned away and left the room, giving me the few moments that I needed to feel a little disappointed.

  The world didn’t make sense and it was far from fair. It tipped in favor of some, while others struggled daily to keep their heads above water. I’d watched a family fall apart over a new life being brought into the world, while another couldn’t have children. I’d seen one family celebrate their victory against cancer while I watched illness sweep away the chance of a future with my dad. The world was often ugly and painful, filled with hate, sadness, and despair. But Aria? She made sense in a senseless world.

  She was the rainbow to my everlasting thunderstorms.

  Chapter 28

  Aria.

  “I was supposed to find out the sex of the baby, since I’m at eighteen weeks. It’s the size of a sweet potato today, which if you think about it, is kind of big. But, I’m going to wait to find out the sex because I want you to be there. I want you to have the baby,” I said, my voice shaking as I stood in front of Simon’s mom, Keira, in their living room. Her eyes were wide, and she shook with a stack of papers in her grip. My hands were clammy. I wasn’t certain of what I was doing, but I was leading with my heart instead of my head. It didn’t seem fair that I was pregnant and she couldn’t have a child. It wasn’t fair that my best friend felt that he wasn’t good enough to be their only kid because of the one mistake he made as a child. It wasn’t fair that Simon’s troubling addiction to doing things in groups of four probably came from a missing puzzle piece to their family.

  “Aria,” Keira said, shaking her head. She set the papers down on the closest table and within a second her hands pattered over her heart. “That’s very kind, honey, but…”

  “But what? You can have it. I promise.”

  “Sweetie,” she said, placing her hand on my cheek, and then combing my hair behind my ear. She even touched my face like mothers were supposed to. “That’s very sweet,” she repeated. “And I’m sure Simon told you about our issue, but it’s not your responsibility, honey. It’s really okay.”

  “Keira, I really want you to have it. I’m not just being hormonal, and I’m not just feeling sorry for you. I’ve tried to figure out why this all happened to me, what it means, you know? And I think…” my voice shook, “I know I’m supposed to give it to you.”

  Her eyes welled with tears. “What did your mom say about this?”

  “I haven’t told her yet. I wanted to tell you first.”

  “What about the father?” she asked.

  I shook my head. James didn’t want a baby in his life. That was a given from the way he responded to Nadine’s dilemma. “Not a concern. Really, Keira. If you and Paul want it, it’s yours. I want nothing more than for the baby to have a loving mom and dad.”

  Her hands covered her mouth, and she couldn’t contain the tears that were falling from her eyes. She nodded her head yes. My heart flipped. She said yes. “We’ll have to speak to your mother, Aria. And if you aren’t sure—”

  “I am,” I promised. “We’ll talk to my mom. But, wel
l, do we hug or something now?”

  “Yes,” Keira sighed, wrapping her arms around me. She rested her head on top of mine. “Yes. We hug now.”

  The closer she pulled our hug, the more I felt it—the feeling that this was the right thing to do.

  But that didn’t mean I couldn’t also be a little sad about it.

  * * *

  “This is insane,” Dad said, sitting on the couch. His eyes stayed on Mom as I tried to think of the last time he’d looked my way. “We’re not seriously considering this, are we?” he asked. He hardly ever looked at me anymore, and when he did, it was a look of disgust. Just a few months before, I was the apple of his eye, his baby girl, his Ari. I wished he knew how much it hurt me to know I’d hurt him.

  Mike entered the house holding a piece of paper, and stared in our direction, taking in yet another fight.

  “It’s an option,” Mom said.

  “To give the thing to Keira? Come on. This is getting ridiculous!”

  He called it a thing more often than a baby.

  “Well, what advice do you have to offer? Because lately all you’ve been doing is complaining and avoiding, which isn’t realistic.”

  “What does the therapist we’re paying an arm and a leg for have to say about this?”

  I didn’t know. Mostly Dr. Ward and I talked about art.

  “Who’s the father?” Dad asked me.

  I didn’t speak.

  “Dammit, Aria! Who’s the father?!” he hollered, slamming his hand against the arm of the couch. He thrust out his chest and tightened his jaw. “How the hell are we supposed to be realistic about this when she acts like a child herself?”

  “I don’t know, but it makes it a million times more difficult when the grown man of the house throws hissy fits whenever the idea of his daughter being pregnant is brought up!”

  He tossed a hand up in dismissal as he stood from the couch. “Do whatever you want, Camila. By all means give the thing to your best friend. I’m sure that won’t cause any kind of issues down the road.”