My Fictions : That Day

Painting isn't really my main business or work, I prefer to make it as my secondary work and I honestly can tell that I was the worst student when it comes to art class during high school. Anyway after graduation, I hated that class since the teacher ended up giving me C although I admit that I didn't really try my best at that time. 

But now, painting is part of how I live, someone I used to know teach me about it, at first he taught me about loving it and then learning it, our relationship was not a common one and he inspires me a lot to do this thing, these painting works. 

In 1976, I graduated from high school and still struggling to decide if I want to continue to a private or state college, it didn't matter anyway because I'll end up working on my family's bee farm, bee business and stuff which is great and challenging. My father told me about the best state university and I wasn't really put my whole interest to it, I spent my whole time just watching my mother running her honey business and I expect myself to be just like her, while father expects me to go to a state college where I'll be someone like him working in an insurance company or anything that connects with company or law and such stuff, and anyway my parents are divorced already, can't really tell since when because I was probably just a kid who care about nothing but animals and ice cream. 

I'm not here to tell about my parents or my passion towards my next education or career, I'm here to tell about the man who changed my point of view and way of life. His name is Terry and he's a new neighbor, I know it sounds a bit typical but he's different, not only his age but his style and way of life are all different. My mother made biscuits so I can deliver it to the "new neighbor" whose name is going to be revealed but already did because I just told his name is Terry. For a few days, I keep delivering foods to him as a greeting for new neighbor but it gets a bit too much when I started to learn how to make my own buscuits which taste terrible but somehow he still pretends as if the biscuits taste as good as before. As always, he didn't brush his blond frizzy and jewfro hair in the morning but he ends up brushing it at day which is weird but interesting. He paints, not on a paper, but on woods, he creates his own paint colors, he has the tools inside his attic which he decorated to be a very bright room, he hates horror films so he tried so hard not to make his new house looking like a potentially-haunted-house or a murder house. What are the woods? he got the woods from local people or workers who need their woods to get polished plus painted so nicely, I don't know exactly what's his job but that's all I know from him, at first. 

8th times I delivered another biscuits to his house, I found him cutting a wood that looks like an old one, "this guy gave me a termite wood, now I have no idea what to do with it", I nodded then told him to just call his customer, he did for a while then continue his work to another woods, "you see here? these abstract shapes and colors that you cannot comprehend but it looks satisfying anyway? that is art, you can't explain it somehow but you know it will be good anyway but you don't know if it will be good to others' eyes, that is relativism" he said while cleaning his hand with his pants, then he sits down and I like it when he does that, he just gets too tall when he stands up and I can't see his face even though it gets covered with his jewfro hair sometimes, "so, this is.. this has been for a week and maybe a bit more? your mother likes me or something?" he laughs joking about the biscuits, I smile and had myself blushed, "she's 58 in case you wonder" I said, "so, you're on.. college?" he asked avoiding more such topic, "almost? I just graduated from high school, but I prefer to stick around here managing the bees and delivering honey, maybe I'll deliver a raw honey next time" I told him, "that.. can be a great idea?" he laughs, I feel like this time is different because he asked a different kind of question, he usually asked about the composition of the biscuit, about the town, the people, the institutions around, anything but me, this is a progress I think. "I'll come back tomorrow, I..", "aren't you a bit scared of what people would think?" he cuts, "what?" I asked with raised eyebrows, "a single 33 year old guy who gets visited with a young girl every single day? not even her mother visits him" he explains, "so you're talking about the guy standing right on your spot" I said clearly about him, "uh? what guy? oh? of course! a middle-aged women called me yesterday asking me about the thing that I have with you" he explains with such fast speed and confusion on his face, I told him not to worry about it and I won't be visiting him again. 

The next day, I went to a shop where I struggled to bring all the stuff that I just bought from the shop, but I saw Terry's car from afar and it's getting closer as I walk, honks* "need any help?" he asked while driving slowly beside me, I tried to ignore him by thinking about what he said yesterday, he clearly annoyed of me, he got off from his car and took my whole grocery bags and put it on his backseat, "get in" he told me, I feel a bit glad. 

"can we go to your house? these stuff I just bought.. they're just stuff to make something" I asked, "hopefully something that you can eat besides biscuits" he jokes, and at that day we knew there's gonna be something between us that is starting to grow. After we arrived, I cooked something that tastes highly terrible but we ate it anyway, he taught me how to paint at his open garage that faces a nice-looking view of a field, while we paint, he oftentimes put his hand on mine to draw something better, while he's doing it for at least 5th times I finally have the courage to say something "the people.. the neighbours, they don't matter, me and my mother hated them, all of them except the shop owner, my mother won't believe anything that they said, they wouldn't even have the courage to even talk to my mother" I told him while he's holding the top of my hand, we were so close to each other physically, I can literally turn around and faced his chest since he's way too tall, he stops his hand motion and walks away to wash his hands, "I'm gonna order some pizza" he fled away. 

I cried because I knew it was a bitter rejection, I had some connections with boys before but not a guy, this is different and I shouldn't expect much. 

He came back and pull my waist, he bows down to kiss my face, he kissed my nose as a result of his body being too tall then he tried again and made it by kissing my whole lips. 

I became a child inside afterwards and came home with a reddish face like a crab, I saw my mother with her special suit take caring the honeycombs, I ran at her without my suit at all and got stung a little but I hold it because of pure happiness. I ran around her then a rain came, she shouted at me and pulled me back inside. At night, I called Terry through the phone and we have a full conversation about each other that night without talking about the kiss we just had. 

Maybe I got a bit too excited, I woke up feeling terrible and sick so I stayed inside my bedroom and eat whatever food that mother had left, I took a piece of paper and think of him, I started to draw by remembering his jewfro blond hair, then his slender and tall body, and last is his face, I have no paint colors so I left a sketch and slept during the whole day. 

The next day I feel much better and came to Terry's house where I saw him with a women, holding a baby. 

I left the town few days after even though there were several calls but I really can't deal with myself being a homewrecker. 

I decided to continue my education near my father, I thought it's time to get close with him since I spent my whole childhood and teenhood with my mother, now I heard my mother is engaged with a man, she can finally get her privacy and I'm so happy for her. 

This year, only 5 years after the case of me being a homewrecker, I finally came back to the town eventually to continue my mother's business, she is getting sick in the hospital and her husband can no longer take care the bees. 

I have no courage to take a look at Terry's house, but I looked through my bedroom and searching through my old box. 

Now it is time to fill the supplies at the house so I have to go to the store, and I can finally drive through Terry's house which is completely empty, I gather my whole courage to knock through his door but no answers. 

When I get home, mother's husband told me the letters from a man named "T" 5 years ago, there were 58 letters, all of them were from Terry and my mother wasn't sure if the letters were for me, because inside of it were explanations that can't be purposely sent for me. 

After reading all the letters for one day straight, Terry told me eventually that he was sorry all the time but he said that he will always be waiting for me. No explanation about the women with a child whom he carried that day I left him. 

I decided to stop being a pussy and call his number, an old women answers and I asked about Terry, she sent me an address of where he lived. I decided to be careful so I bring my best friend to go to Bronx where he recently lives, when I arrived, it is another empty house again but not too empty because the house next door has been take caring that house for 2 years, they told me about Terry and it led me to a hospital, I cried while driving to the hospital thinking of any worst possibilities that had happened to him after I left him. 

I arrived, searched for him and there he is still alive with some flowers, no one was in the room so I walked in, I sat beside him and holding his hand, he still asleep but now he looks totally different, no hair at all and looking pale as always just like the last time I saw him. He opened his eyes and shakes his head a few time, he slowly cried while holding my face "you.. breathes* finally here", "I guess your wife is the one who should be in here" I smile while not giving a damn if he has his wife somewhere already, "wife? since when?" he asks still smiling that makes me cry again, "you.. maybe you divorced, the women with a kid 5 years ago? you'll be forgetting that?" I asked while still caressing his hand and his face, "who? 5 years ago? hmm.. the only person who visited me was my sister, and her adoptive child, her husband was clearly there, she's the only family I had" he told me while still struggling to speak, "excuse me? that was not your wife?!" I shocked myself, "is that why you left me?" he asked with deep eyebrows, "I.. I can't believe I left you, I should have stayed, I'm so sorry" I cried for real now while kissing his hand, "now here we are with so many bad examples of misunderstood" he smiles, "that's okay, you're here now, please stay and.. " he struggled to sit up, "be my wife?" he asked, I am so thankful I had rejected a man's hand before now I can finally marry a man whom I really loved, the man whom I couldn't get over of, no matter what the circumstances are, he is still the same Terry whom I always recognized. 

Having my first wedding in a hospital is a new thing for my family, Terry is getting a bit better after our wedding, we have our first nights definitely not on the hospital but on his house in our town, not in Bronx of course. 

I continue to take care of my mother's bees after her death, I have my first child 3 years after my marriage with Terry, and his sister came to visit for some times. 

Nothing is happily ever after, his cancer cells started to grow again and I lose him while giving birth to our second child, I swear to myself not to get married again, he is the first and should be my last one, I lose most parts of my bone and I can only imagine having those again only after my last breath, only paintings can keep memory of us and I'm thankful he was there to inspire me the whole time, he taught me how it is important to immortalize everything through the works of our sweats.