The Painting

“Ah what a pretty green…”

“Could you at least pretend to listen?”

“I am.”

“No you’re not”

“Ok I’ll be good.”

Jonathan was sitting on the tattered couch of Mr. Sampson’s art studio. It started out that he would come after school to help with odd jobs to pay Mr. Sampson back for a broken window after he accidentally smashed a baseball through it, but now Jonathan came of his own free will to help the old man out since he had become accustomed to getting Mr. Sampson’s advice. Mr. Sampson had started to work on a new piece, right now all it seemed like to Jonathan was a huge blob of green.
“But really. What should I do?”

“About what?” 

“C’mon! I thought you said you were listening?”

“I am”

Jonathan just rolled his eyes. “Laura.”  “Oh rightie-o” said Mr. Sampson. “I say talk to the girl, she’s only human.” “It’s not that easy” replied Jonathan who lay back on the couch looking up at the ceiling.

Next week at school, Jonathan was feeling a little braver then before and decided to try the old man’s advice. Laura was a quiet kind of girl, the type you could easily go up to under normal circumstances, but Jonathan just couldn’t ever seem to muster up enough courage to actually go up to the girl, but today was his day. She was at her locker at the end of school; Jonathan was on his way to go see Mr. Sampson when he spotted her. “You can do this! You can do this!” he chanted silently in his head but just as he was about to tap her on the shoulder, he bolted for his parked car in the lot.

“You did what?” asked the old man as Jonathan was reliving the story,

“You mean to tell me you had a perfectly good opportunity with her alone and you chickened out?!”

“C’mon Sampson!” said Jonathan rolling his eyes, mortified at his own coward-ness. Jonathan grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. Damn it! Why couldn’t he just talk to her, was it really that hard a thing to do? Jonathan watched Mr. Sampson adding slight swirls of blue and white. The picture was really coming together, Jonathan could see the forms of trees and small flowers and he figured the different shades of blue were to be some sort of sky.

“You, my young teenage friend, have confidence issues.”

“I know… I wonder where I got that from…”

“I think a better question would be how to fix it.”

“I guess…”

Jonathan always dreaded coming home after visiting Mr. Sampson. Watching the man paint always seemed to put him at ease, only to be flung back into the chaos that was his own home. You see, Jonathan’s mother had left his family when Jonathan was around nine, taking his sister with her. Now it was only Jonathan and his father. Even though the house was filled with nothing but horrible memories of his long gone mother and sister, Jonathan’s father refused to sell their home, though Jonathan could never figure out why. He walked up the stairs of the Townhouse and opened the door. Silence. Jonathan let out a sigh of relief. His father wasn’t home yet; he still had a few moments of peace left. Jonathan walked upstairs to his room and put his backpack on the floor next to his bed. Just as he was about to finally relax he heard the boom of the front door,
“Jonathan are you home?”
Jonathan reluctantly went downstairs to greet his father.
“What were you up to boy?” asked his dad looking through the day’s mail and tossing the junk.
“I just got home; I was putting my things upstairs.”
“Did it ever occur to you to start dinner so your poor old dad doesn’t? Ah damn it now I’ll just order a pizza, but next time I’d be happy if you were a little less selfish around here.” Jonathan rolled his eyes as his father picked up the phone.
“Yes, pepperoni and extra cheese. That’s right. Ok, see you in thirty minutes.”

Now you may not think much of this little scene, but when no matter what you do, you can’t do anything right, it wears down on your soul. For you see, if Jonathan had started to make dinner, his father would have complained that it was the wrong dish, that he didn’t want that tonight. Or that he overcooked the food, or that he made too much of a mess making it and that they should have just ordered take-out. Yes that was his household but Jonathan was accustomed to it…sort of…

That night at dinner, they were quietly eating their pizza when Jonathan’s dad started in again. “I heard from Mrs. Hank that report cards came out.” Jonathan’s father was the manager of a supermarket, thus knew every one in town, including the moms of the kids who went to his school. “Thomas Hank got straight A’s. Now what’s wrong with you? Why the hell wouldn’t you give your old man your report card?”  James sighed again and went to his backpack. He reluctantly handed the piece of paper to his father, waiting… “A B in English? What’s wrong with you? What’s with this crap boy?” “But Dad, I have A’s in all my other classes, who cares if I got one B?” “Thomas Hank had all A’s! Why can’t you be like him?!” Jonathan’s father now began to yell at the top of his lungs, “Damn it boy! No school awards, no sports awards, all you ever do is laze about! Why’d you gotta be so useless!” With that Jonathan’s father threw down his report card and stormed out of the room, doubtlessly pouring himself another scotch. “Good,” thought Jonathan, “may be he’ll pass out and leave me alone.”

The Spring formal was coming up, and Jonathan had every intention of asking Laura, but as they say, life got in the way. Every time he got even close to her, he either pretended to have dropped something by her or just ran off. “Why do I have to be such a little kid sometimes…” he thought. But whether he liked it or not, the day of the dance came, and as far as Jonathan knew, Laura hadn’t been asked by anyone and was going alone. “May be I’ll ask her to dance with me?” thought Jonathan. Jonathan ended up going with a few of his friends who let him tag along even though he didn’t have a date. Just as Jonathan was leaving the house, his father yelled at him from the couch, “Damn it, my son the loser, doesn’t even have a date. At least try and make me proud will ya?” and on that note Jonathan left for the dance.

They walked in and the room was full of students who went to Jonathan’s school. Hanging out by the punch bowl Jonathan saw Laura walk in…With Thomas Hank… Jonathan’s world just shattered. He stood shocked as he watched them glide across the dance floor. It didn’t take long for Jonathan to get out of there. He walked up to the closest liquor store and bought the strongest stuff he could find using the fake ID his friend had made him last summer. Anything to take him out of his misery. Jonathan staggered around, taking swings from the bottle till he found Mr. Sampson’s studio. He looked up at the window, which still had a light in it. Mr. Sampson was good for those late nights when he was almost finished with a project, and he had been working on this one for about a month. Jonathan managed to somehow find his way upstairs, banging on the door to the art studio. Mr. Sampson opened the door with a paintbrush in his hand, “Jonathan, my boy, what brings you here this time of night?” Jonathan pushed his way into the studio and started to rant and rave, he yelled about his father, about how Laura had found another date to the dance, about how much he hated himself and how much he just wanted it all to go away. He even began to cry, and all Mr. Sampson did was listen, he listened and he cared. When Jonathan finished his tantrum, Mr. Sampson lay him on the couch and put a blanket over him, then went back to the canvas. “You are welcome to stay here as long as you need,” he said picking back up his paint brush, “I could use another friend around here besides the paints and the canvases.” And he giggled a bit, “Mr. Sampson I thought we were already friends?” asked Jonathan. “Well I suppose we are.” Jonathan watched as he painted, sobering up quite quickly. He stayed there all night, just watching the man paint. By morning it was finally complete. It was a picture of a tree in the shape of a crescent moon. The moon had a face and seemed to be sleeping, enjoying the calm and the beautiful night sky in some far off relm Jonathan didn't know. “I think this is one of my best works yet!” said Mr. Sampson, signing the bottom. “It’s spectacular.” Said Jonathan, admiring the work.

“I think I want you to have it my young friend, it suits you.”

“I could never!”

“No, it belongs to you.” And with that Mr. Sampson took the painting off the easel and wrapped it up. Handing it to Jonathan he said, “Here you go, it belongs to you now.” That night, Jonathan realized something. He couldn’t tell what but something was different. Like he needed to change some things about himself, may be not take things so to heart, be calm like the painting. On his way home, Jonathan decided to have a long man to man talk with his father. He decided that he was going to finally call up his mom and his sister after so many years and clear the air, and may be, just may be, he would go and finally talk to Laura.
 

Reviews

[brittneymarie]

Your story really touched me, I enjoyed it. It was sad at first, but the ending was fantastic. I loved the feel of this and the imagery of your story. Great Write

BrittneyMarie