The Explanation
(July 2003)
"I guess I need to tell you the whole story” the artist said. He lit a new stick of incense and put it in the vase on the table. This one smelled different that the ones before, it smelled like citrus fruit mostly. Ennis sat at the table looking at the artist. His head and his heart were pounding.
“Are you sure that your okay? Can I get you that tea now?" the artist asked with concern.
Ennis nodded. He hadn’t slept for days. The artist made the tea, brought the cups over and sat down at the table.
“Where do I start? I suppose I need to tell you about myself. I’m from the east. From a little town in Delaware, of all places. I ran away to New York when I was sixteen. I had to get away from my family. Let’s just say my parents were not very lenient. It was tough, real tough, but New York sure was something in those days.”
The artist paused and looked at Ennis staring at him. “I guess you have no idea, I’ll bet you never were out of Wyoming.”
Ennis managed a smile. The artist chuckled.
“It was tough, I slept in the streets and on park benches. If I was lucky I slept on a stranger’s couch. Usually it was in a stranger’s bed” the artist continued but his voice became quieter.
“But it was something, I met all kinds of people, wild, crazy, creative people. There was music and art and the most intense nights. I saw and learned so much.”
Ennis remembered the magazine Cassie once showed him, with pictures of strange people wearing all black and with hair of all colors. He remembered looking with disbelief. He never imagined he would ever meet one of these people. “How the hell did ya end up out here?” Ennis thought to himself, not realizing he said it out loud.
The artist stopped, but then went on. “I met a few special people too. The first was older. He was a professor, he taught me so much, about life, about art” the artist said, his voice again getting softer. He paused, his pale eyes peering into Ennis’s soul.
“The second was my age. I met him at a bar. He wasn’t from anywhere around there. He was visiting for a few days. He walked into the bar, a gay bar” and the artist paused. “He looked scared. I watched him for a while, then I went over to him. He stayed in New York, we were together for almost seven years.” The artist closed his eyes. “We were so different, yet deep down he was my doppelganger.”
Ennis stared at him quizzically. The artist laughed a little. “He was like my double, in the inside at least, my soul mate, like we were meant for each other, I thought we would be together forever….”
A sad look came over his pale face. Ennis closed his eyes. But the artist was still before him. He opened them again and reached over to take the artists’ cool hand.
(I know I am so over, sorry.)
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