(These prompts have been perfect for the direction this thing was going.....)The Friend
(July 2003)
Ennis got up and walked over to the sink again. Then he stood there like he was unable to move. He almost wanted to leave, but there was no way he could. “I had to find you” the artist said.
Ennis could not speak. The artists’ face was now pure white, from the lack of food and sleep. The artist held the scarf again. He spoke softly. “This was given to my friend’s mother. By his father. Just before he died. There was trouble between them, my friend said, but for some reason his dad had this scarf wrapped up on the table for her one morning. The card just said “For You.” Then he died the next day.”
Ennis turned on the faucet and splashed some cool water on his face. Suddenly, something hit him. A force overwhelmed him. Something like being suddenly hurled out of a dark cave. “What is...” He hesitated, he braced himself against the counter. “What is your friend’s name?”
“Bobby” the artist replied, his eyes now with a stranger glow. “Bobby Twist.”
Ennis felt his knees give way as he tried to get back to the table. But the artist was suddenly beside him and had his arms around him. The artist led Ennis back to the chair, and gently helped him into it.
“I was in time for her funeral. I met his mother once. She came to New York. Bobby introduced me to her as his friend. She was dressed in a suit like a uniform, she seemed as hard as rock, and as cold as ice.” The artist said as he sat back down. “But before she left, when Bobby went to get her coat, and we were alone, she took my hand. It surprised and startled me. She said 'look after him, see that he eats okay, make sure he’s happy.' Then she left.”
“The funeral was beautiful, there were white lilies all over. She arranged it all when she found out that she was sick. She was such a tough businesswoman. But she had a lot of friends. She never wanted anyone to know about the things she did. All the good things. But people did know. They all came.”
The artist paused and took a breath. “Bobby was so close to her. I was so worried about him. I expected to stay with him for a while. But he was almost okay, he was almost at peace. In a way, he was glad she went sooner than they expected. She never had to suffer.”
“Bobby was starting to go through some of her things. I really didn’t know how he could, but he said that it made him feel better somehow. Almost like she was there with him. But then after he went through her things, he would sit on the couch for hours, as if he couldn’t move.”
“Then in the back of a drawer, wrapped up in a pillowcase he found the postcards. The time I first saw them, I had no idea that they would change my life.” The artist stopped, and took a deep, long breath.
Ennis closed his eyes. He knew he needed some rest, he knew he had to get some sleep. But he could not get up from the chair. He could not move at all.
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