Art & Soul

by Brittainy C. Cherry

  “I’m sorry, I’m just going to need to know a few details.” The receptionist calmly tried to explain. My hand landed on Levi’s shoulder for comfort, and I refused to move it.

  “His name is Kent Myers. He’s, um, he has cancer, and I just—look, I just need to know if he’s okay.”

  “All right, one second…”

  She was taking longer than Levi wanted her to. His whole soul wavered and shook before me. “Could you hurry?” he snapped, something he hardly ever did.

  “Levi.” We heard behind us, and we turned to see his uncle Lance standing a bit down the hallway. With haste, we jogged in his direction. “He’s okay, he’s resting.”

  “What happened? Where is he? I want to see him.” Levi had tears at the back of his eyes, and he blinked them away.

  “He called me complaining about chest pains and said he was having trouble breathing. Daisy and I rushed over to check. It only got worse, so we called an ambulance to pick him up. They helped his breathing and now he’s resting.”

  Levi started to tremble, and Lance was quick to wrap his arms around him.

  “I thought…” Levi mumbled. “I thought he…”

  “I know, buddy. I know.”

  * * *

  “You should call your mom and let her know where you are,” Lance said, walking toward me in the waiting room. Levi was sitting in his dad’s room, and I’d been waiting. “Maybe she can come pick you up. It looks like we might be here for a while.”

  “She’s working,” I said, tapping my foot, knowing I would have to call my dad to come get me. “I’ll be fine, Lance.”

  He gave me a worrisome stare, but I told him to go check on his brother.

  Fifteen minutes after I texted Dad, he came rushing into the hospital. “Aria!” he exclaimed, rushing over to me. I knew he was going to scream at me for being with Levi. I knew he was going to yell and scold me for being out with a boy, especially Kent Myers’ boy.

  Standing from my chair, I started talking before he could. “I’m sorry, okay? I know you didn’t want me to be out with Levi, but I like him, Dad. He’s the only one at school who doesn’t look at me like I’m a slut and his dad is sick, and we had to come here and—”

  I couldn’t finish because Dad wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a hug. “Jesus Christ, Aria! I thought something happened to you or the baby! You can’t just text people that you’re in the hospital! Are you okay?!” He pulled back, studying my face, making sure everything was in the right spot before he pulled me back into a hug.

  Confusion filled me inside but then I realized I wasn’t dreaming, that Dad actually was holding me so tight. I yanked on his jacket, pulling him closer to me. “I’m so sorry, Dad. For everything.”

  He kissed my forehead and held me closer to him. “None of that matters, okay? It’s all right, Aria. It’s all right.”

  34 Aria

  “I’m sorry,” Dad said, pulling into our driveway. “I’ve been terrible throughout this whole thing, and I just want you to know that it’s not your fault. I’ve been having a hard time, and I’ve taken that out on you. That’s not fair. And I’m so sorry.”

  I forgave him. Of course I forgave him. He kissed my forehead before I stepped out of his car, then he headed back to Molly’s house. A part of me wanted to pretend that he would’ve come back home that night and everything would’ve gone back to normal, but it didn’t. He drove away again.

  Later that night, Levi was standing outside of my bedroom window. I opened the window and told him to come inside, but he didn’t.

  “He didn’t just stop chemotherapy,” he said. “I thought he just didn’t want to do it anymore, but the doctor told him it wasn’t working. He stopped because they told him it wasn’t working. The cancer’s spreading too much.”

  “Levi…”

  “He’s dying,” he whispered. “The doctors said the only thing they can do is help make him comfortable. Can you believe that?” He snickered, gripping his teeth against his lip. “There’s nothing comfortable about cancer. You can’t make cancer comfortable. What a nonsensical thing to say.”

  “Come inside,” I said.

  He shook his head. “No, I should get back home. I just wanted to say sorry for the way the night ended.”

  “Come inside,” I repeated.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Levi. Please.”

  He took a breath and stepped inside. We sat on my bed in the darkness, our pinkies locked together.

  I wasn’t sure what I could say to him to make him feel better. I didn’t even think I was supposed to try to make it right for him.

  Maybe it wasn’t about fixing the broken hearts.

  Maybe it was about loving the broken pieces the way they were.

  Maybe when someone you loved was hurting, all they needed was someone to hold their pinkie as a reminder that they weren’t alone.

  “I’m afraid of giving him up,” I said. “I have these thoughts of calling up Keira and telling her that I changed my mind and want to keep him. I’ve played scenarios in my head of how I could do this, how I could raise a baby on my own, and then I think of how terrible it makes me to want to do that. I start thinking too far into the future, and I realize how shitty of a thing that would be to do. Then I cry because I think too much and want too much and worry too much about the future.

  “The truth is the future doesn’t matter, and you shouldn’t worry about your father dying because there’s no such thing as dying. There’s alive and there’s dead. There’s only the here and now, and if we sit worrying about what happens next, we miss out on the best thing: being here with one another.”

  “I’m falling in love with you,” he softly admitted, almost apologetic. He rubbed his shoulder. “Sometimes you cross my mind and I just want to keep thinking about you for the rest of the day. Because daydreaming about you is easier than thinking about cancer. I want to sit out in the woods, and think about you. I want to crawl out of bed, and think about you. I want to play music, and think about you. Because when I think about you the world seems better.

  “Then I remember that my thoughts can’t be about you because you’re not mine. You’re nothing but a dream. And I’m not the guy who gets to dream. I only get the nightmares.”

  He placed his hands against my chest, feeling my heartbeats. “Don’t do this to me, Art. Don’t let me keep falling for you. Don’t let me love you. Because everything I’d ever loved has a way of falling apart, and the idea of losing you is too much right now. Don’t let me keep dreaming. Make me wake up.”

  His words were pained, raw, uncensored. I saw the fear and hurt that lived inside him. I felt it too.

  It didn’t seem fair, the way life worked. While I was months from bringing a new life into the world, Levi was preparing to say goodbye to one.

  I wished the current issues were mine instead of Levi’s. Nobody deserved to hurt as much as he did. He had been nothing but kind from day one, and the fact that his heart was breaking made my heart break too.

  “Can we kiss again for a while?” I asked, wanting him to know that I was more than a dream.

  He nodded. “I’d like that.”

  Our second kiss was nothing like the first. As his mouth found mine, I cried. I could feel how sad he was when he kissed me and that made me sad. I felt his tears mixing together with mine as our lips pressed hard against each other. We were trying our best to live in the here and now, in the darkness together. We were so broken. We were so worn out from the lives we lived, but tonight we kissed with the broken pieces. We kissed with the fear. We kissed with the anger. We kissed with everything we had inside of us. And then we kissed some more. We grew tired together, creating our own kind of art. We became the masterpieces of the loneliest souls. The colors in both of our eyes bled out, knowing that sometimes the most beautiful pieces of art were created from the darkest of souls.

  35 Levi

  I woke up to find my arms wrapped around Aria. My mind started raci
ng as I began remembering the previous night. The light shining through the window fell against Aria’s face.

  Light.

  Morning.

  Shoot!

  I climbed out of the bed and scrambled to grab my shoes, hoping that—

  “No need to rush, you’ve already been caught.”

  I turned to see Mrs. Watson standing in the doorway with a mug in her hands.

  “Mrs. Watson, I can explain…”

  “Do you drink coffee, Levi?” she asked before heading toward the kitchen. I followed behind her, a little worried about entering a kitchen where there were many, many knives easily accessible. I cautiously ran my hand through my messy hair as I watched her grab another mug from the cupboard. “Cream? Sugar?” she asked.

  “Both,” I answered cautiously, sitting down on one of the stools at the island. A few seconds later she passed me the mug and part of me wondered if there was a chance she’d poisoned it.

  “I heard about your father.” She leaned against the island, across from me. “I’m so sorry.”

  I shrugged, running my finger around the rim of the coffee mug.

  “Your father and I used to date,” she said, making me almost spit out my coffee. She smirked. “It was a long, long time ago. We were around the same ages as you and Aria, so it’s a little strange for me to see you two so close. It’s pretty surreal.”

  “I like her, Mrs. Watson. A lot.”

  “She likes you too, honey, and I think that’s the problem. She’s going through so much. Aria keeps a lot to herself. There’s so much she doesn’t say. The worst feeling in the world for a parent is knowing that your child is hurting and being unable to help them. I just worry that her being so close to you could be some kind of way for her to avoid dealing with her deeper issues.”

  “You want me to stop seeing her?” I asked, hoping the answer was no.

  Mrs. Watson grimaced. “I don’t know, because last night when you showed up for the dance was the first time she actually looked…happy. Like her old self. I just—can you take it slow with her? Just friends?”

  “Of course.”

  “Which means no late night sleepovers.”

  “I’m sorry about that. It was a really crappy night, and I had no one else to talk to. I didn’t mean to fall asleep over here, I swear. I’m sorry.”

  She narrowed her eyes with a smirk. “You look so much like your father it’s scary.”

  “Was he always like this?” I asked referring to Dad’s coldness and harsh personality. “I remember him being different, but I don’t know if I’m just making up those memories or something.”

  She shook her head, going into the refrigerator and pulling out eggs and bacon. “Kent’s always been a little rough around the edges, but at the end of the day, every choice he ever made was made to look out for others. His tactics weren’t always the best, but the motives behind his actions were always from his heart. He doesn’t mean to be harsh.”

  “When I used to visit him, he was happy to have me.”

  “He’s happy you’re here, trust me. Your father doesn’t talk about things. He never really has. He keeps his feelings to himself. After you stopped visiting, I think he just got lonely, and instead of doing something about his loneliness, he held it inside and kept his feelings buried.”

  “Were you and him in love?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe puppy love, but he really loved your mom, he just made a few mistakes along the way. And I’ve truly only loved one man.” Tears fell from her eyes, and she laughed as she wiped them away, seeming somewhat embarrassed. “This is what happens when you work too many nightshifts in a hospital.”

  “I really hope things work out with you and Mr. Watson.”

  With a tight smile, she nodded. “Thank you, Levi. Now, on to the important things. Are you hungry?”

  She proceeded to cook me breakfast, and I couldn’t help but think about how I missed my own mom. When she wasn’t too far gone into her mind, she would make me breakfast and we would have conversations in the mornings. I missed that.

  After we ate breakfast, I thanked Mrs. Watson and walked out of the front of the house to head home.

  “He loves you, Levi. You know that, right?” Mrs. Watson said, standing in her doorway. I shrugged, making her frown. “The day he found out about the cancer, he came to me. The same way you did. I sat with him and asked him if he had the chance to fix one thing in his life, what would it be.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing. He said nothing. But a few weeks later, you showed up, and I think that said more than any words could ever say.”

  * * *

  The next Saturday night was the night of our “Art & Soul” showcase for Mr. Harper and Ms. Jameson’s class. Lance and Daisy told me they would be there front row and center. Dad had a home nurse staying with us to help care for him, so he wouldn’t be able to make it. Not that he would’ve anyway.

  Simon and Abigail showed up, too, lips locked through most of the night. God. Kissing that much had to be tiring.

  The showcase was taking place in the auditorium, which held a lot more people than I’d thought it would. Aria and I sat in the wings of the stage, watching the people who performed before us. Everyone else already had their piece of art completed, so when they went out there, the artist discussed their techniques and then their partner played a musical number.

  Aria’s breaths were picking up as she stared out at the stage. “This was a terrible idea,” she said, shaking her head back and forth. “We should’ve just did like everyone else and had the painting completed. What if I can’t do it? What if I freeze up and can’t paint in front of all of those people? What if—”

  “Just look at me,” I offered. “Just look at me and breathe. You can do this, Art.”

  She nodded once and glanced out at the audience. Her eyes widened. “He’s here.”

  “Your dad?” I asked, knowing she’d been worried that he wouldn’t show.

  “No. I mean, yeah, he’s here, but I wasn’t talking about him.”

  “Then who?” I looked out to see my dad sitting next to Lance and a lump formed in my throat. He looked weak, and tired, and hardly there, but he was there. He came.

  Mr. Harper announced us, and we walked on stage. As Aria set up all of her art supplies, I was in charge of greeting the audience. “Hi, everyone. I’m Levi Myers and this is Aria Watson setting up her stuff behind me. We decided that we wanted to do three live art pieces to showcase our collection. We thought it would be cool to paint it in real time instead of completing the pieces beforehand. Or perhaps we were just really last minute and didn’t get our work done in time,” I joked, making the room laugh. “Our collection is entitled, ‘Nonsensical Oxymorons.’”

  Aria gave me a smile, indicating that she was ready to start. I grabbed my violin, cleared my throat, and started to play. The bow rolled across the strings as I began to play “Love You Till The End” as Aria used broken sticks and leaves from the woods to create her abstract piece.

  She used dark, moody colors: deep blues, dark purples, blacks, grays, browns. She created a piece of art filled with darkness, despair, anger. As I became lost in the music, she became lost in the colors. She drowned as the colors drowned; she grew gloomy as her colors cried. She became the art. It was scary and beautiful all at once.

  The second song was “Fix You” by Coldplay. She used bright colors: yellows, pinks, oranges. Her body loosened up as she splattered the paint onto the second canvas with ease. Her once dark demeanor was overtaken with a light of someone healing, finding their way, finding their happiness. She allowed the sound of my violin playing to be the exact opposite of what she created. It was cool seeing so much brightness and life on the second canvas.

  Last, I played “Masterpiece”, by Jessie J—Aria’s song choice. The song was about feeling an overwhelming amount of pressure on a person’s life. But it also showcased the idea of falling and standing back up. It was about fin
ding one’s way, learning to live, learning to breathe.

  Aria paused for a few beats, staring blankly at the empty canvas. She dropped the sticks and leaves from her hold and her fingers dipped into a mixture of colors. Purples, greens, yellows, blues. Her eyes watered over, and she started painting with her fingers, running her hands up and down the canvas. The colors dripped, mixed, and blended. She started painting frantic, her tears falling down her cheeks as she wiped them with her paint-filled fingertips.

  When I finished the song, Aria’s hands fell to her sides. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she stared at her controlled chaos.

  She turned toward me. I smiled. She smiled.

  The whole room smiled and cheered, rising to their feet applauding our masterpieces.

  * * *

  “That was fantastic!” Abigail gushed, bouncing over to Aria and me after the show, Simon’s hand locked with hers. “I knew you both were talented, but what you did up there was beyond talented. Way to make everyone else up there seem ridiculously average in comparison.”

  “Well, you know.” Aria smirked, her hands resting on her stomach. “Some people were born to stand out.”

  “Which you two absolutely did!” Lance said, walking over toward us with Dad following slowly behind. “That was amazing. For a moment I thought Art was going to get up there and paint the same way she played the drums, but luckily you were the complete opposite. That was mind-blowing. And you!” He clapped, his face beaming with pride. He wrapped my head in his hands, kissing my forehead. “You are the kind of musician I want to be when I grow up.”

  “He’s right, you know,” Mr. Watson said, flapping the showcase program against his hands. “You’re the real deal, Levi.”

  I waited for him to add ‘for a dirtbag’ or ‘for a fucked-up loser’, but he didn’t. He looked over at my dad and gave a smile that almost looked apologetic. “He’s good, Kent.”