Chapter Ten: Blank Slate

I sit quietly on the metal folding chair in the corner of the waiting room- trying my

hardest to seem comfortably removed, and not hopelessly wanting to escape any possible social interactions. I just want to blend in with the pale yellowish walls until it’s my turn for a session. Today, Camilla has decided that it’s time for me to try my other “theraputic options”, so I’ll be seeing the young, enthusiastic Cliff Kizee. Unfortunately enough- I have arrived an inconvenient half an hour early. With my book and good patience though, I plan to wait it out. Seeing as how Lochlan has yet to arrive, I’m sure I can manage to be left alone--at least for now. I enjoy being in mildly crowded -yet still extremely professional- rooms, because though I do not enjoy talking to people, I really do like looking at them. Part of that is my fault.  Right now it’s really empty, though. That woman with duo-hair (who was escorted by a big guy in a suit) is currently meeting with Camilla, the younger, cute brunette girl and the girl with dark hair and eyes are both working with Cliff, leaving Clinton at the secretary’s desk. I still don’t know why those two are always together, though they’re never apart.
Lionel! I didn’t know you thought she was cute~
Well sure, she looks like a child. Baby-cute.
Suuuree!
I shrug Lenore off and look around at the few faces I really have to examine here, peeking over the book I have my nose buried in. There are only two people here at the moment; That huge, curly haired man with the untidy beard, and the reasonably sized, woman with long, straight, dark flowing hair --like a waterfall of shadow, spilling over her shoulders-- and an aloof, bored air like she doesn’t belong here either.

I see her eyes skimming me briefly, S**t. I bury my face back into the book. I inwardly panic that she might assume I was ogling or judging her, or that she might try to talk to me. Goshdangit.

Relax, Lionel. Maybe talking to a pretty girl will be good for you.
I doubt it, I’ll either hate her- or feel bad for not being masculine enough- or worst case scenario- she’ll be amazing and I’ll get fluttered and push her away.
Maybe not this time?
I do not want to be on the wrong foot with someone I’ll see in the waiting room twice a week, okay?
Do you think she’s pretty?
Shush it, Lenore! This is not the time.
I fix my tie nervously and glance at the clock behind me. It’s only been ten minutes. Why is time so slow?
I hear her get out of her chair. Awesome, maybe she’s leaving. Or maybe it’s her turn in therapy. I hear a firm, glassy voice from right next to me;
"So who condemned you to this asylum? Or was it actually your own idea to be here?"

Oh no. I jerk my head up in surprise, my eyes widen once I realize how close she is. There she sits, in an identical chair, right next to me.

“My... my teacher, mostly... she said if I didn’t, she’d tell my boss and parents so... you know, lots of people in a way.” Words are so hard to say sometimes.

S**t Lionel, you sound like a six year old.

I smirk a little, I like her wording for it, though... ‘condemned’. “Judging by your tone, were you ‘condemned’ as well?” I have recovered a little, I can talk. She scoffs, narrowing her dark green eyes, her hair twitches with her head movements.

"My step-mom," She pauses and leans back, glancing at me. I don’t talk to girls a lot, aside from the one in my head- so I am hardly ever aware of what to do with my eyes. I know I’m supposed to look them in the eye--but that is really hard. Looking someone in the eyes feels like.. almost the ultimate vulnerability. I can practically feel them looking right through me. If I look at a guy’s chest or arms, it’s nothing... but it is a very different deal with women and I don’t know what to do, so I just keep glancing at the walls.  "Well, she thinks I'm a criminal." She adds. My eyes widen. "So? What does it matter if your parents and boss know? What'd you do?" I look at her in mild surprise. Her expression is serious, honest, and a little aggressive. A mild glare of interest on her face. She’s kind of a vicious one, I like that.

“I’d... probably loose my job. I guess my father can’t do much, but he’d feel like a bad father... like he did all that work for nothing. I mean he’s not the smartest--never was, but he doesn’t deserve any more hardships, I guess...” I scratch the back of my head nervously. You’re being abnormally chatty, that’s good.

She opens her mouth to say something more, her eyes slightly narrowed-- but she is interrupted by the door to Cliff’s office being thrown open, and the two girls exiting quietly. I notice the shorter one with brown hair is flailing her arms with excitement. Hmm. Cliff calls out my name.

“Lionel?”

“That’s me...” I stand up, clutching my book and looking at her sheepishly.

“Lionel, hunh?”

“Uh yeah...”

“Hm.”

“Your name is...?” She slightly glares, her hair falling around her face, her dark green eyes staring right at me, no resistance.

“...Onyx.”

Onyx! What a kickass name!!

Is that even a name?

“Right... uhh.. see you later, Onyx...” I awkwardly fumble into Cliff’s office.

Cliff Kizee is a short, thin man. He looks to be somewhere in his twenties, though he is at least a foot shorter than me. His skin is a clean, smooth dark color,  which only his short, dense curly hair and big, dark eyes overpower. He looks well kept and clean shaven aside from a triangular spot of facial hair under his bottom lip. I believe it’s referred to as a “soul patch”. He gives me a huge, welcoming grin showing a mouth full of clean, healthy teeth. The stark contrast between his dark face and white teeth almost startles me.
“Hi! You must be Lionel!”
“Oh, uhh yes! Lionel Soldner.” I hold out my hand with a slight grin.
“Great to meet you Lionel! I’m Cliff, as you already know.” He chuckles, taking my hand in both of his and shaking it warmly. Sincere. “Take a seat wherever and I’ll set you  up...!”
The room is surprisingly bigger than Camilla’s. There’s clean, white walls and a couple tables. One is set off to the side, next to a huge, open window, showing an empty lot full of grass. There are a total of four chairs all neatly parked by the table which is covered in colorfully chaotic paint stains. There are a couple giant cabinets which I’m sure are full of art supplies, and to my immediate left is a big, cushiony couch and a coffee table with a wheely-chair across from it. I lower myself onto the couch and wait patiently as Cliff rifles through the cabinets.

“So, as you know, I am a little different than a normal therapist...”

“Yeah. You’re an... art therapist?” I use Camilla’s term.

“Well somewhat. I am a therapist who uses his patients creative outlets to communicate and heal. So not just what everyone imagines-- you know, painting and drawing but also sculpture, music, literature! Basically any form of art. I use my knowledge of people, and combine it with my knowledge of art, and I can use that to help paint a uh, better picture of you...” He laughs. “Pun intended.”

That was a good one. Lenore giggles. I smile a bit. Cliff’s enthusiasm is welcoming. Not nearly as personal or smothering as Lochlan’s. “So today, I’m thinking we could start off with some watercolors, maybe? Those are usually a good way to start off, or if you have a preferred medium...?” He leans towards me curiously. I shake my head.

“Not really. I’m not a... creative person.” I shrug. “I’ll just go with the flow.”

“Beautiful, watercolors it is, then!” He grins and reaches into the cabinets to pull out a thin metal case, and a few sheets of white paper. He gently places these items on the coffee table in front of me and smiles warmly.  “Now let me just grab a glass of water...” Cliff goes to a corner I did not notice, directly to my left, where a messy sink sat. He filled a big jar with water and sat it next to the paper on the table. He hands me a few brushes and nods. “Go nuts, kid!”

“Let’s see if I know how...” I gently chose the brush with the smallest end and stare at the page in front of me for a moment. Cliff sits in the couch next to me and relaxes. “Uhm...” I look at him and blink.

“Yeah?”

“So... how exactly do you do this?”

“You just...” Cliff reaches forward and grabs a piece of paper and a brush for himself. He dips the tip of the paintbrush into the jar and swirls it gently on a deep purple spot. “...pick a color you like...” He slowly lifts it, allowing the excess color to drip off, and places it on a very specific spot on the paper. “...and then, you just do what you can to make the paper... pleasing to you. You see what I mean? Make it pretty, Lionel.” He begins to create swirls and patterns with the slightly watered hues of purple. I look down at my blank white paper.

“Well... I like it how it is.” I state slowly. He stops painting.

“Oh? Elaborate, Lionel. Why?”

“I mean... look at it!” I lifted it up and gestured to the blank page. “This is perfect! It’s clean, blank, whole! It leaves endless possibilities for someone with a better vision or better talent to fill in! At this moment in time, this paper has the ability to hold anything from a masterpiece to a child’s scribble. You see?” I point to the paper on the table. He smiles wider and wider as I talk.

“That is a very optimistic view, Lionel. And what makes you think that you don’t have what it takes to create the masterpiece that this blank slate could hold?” I’m starting to think he might not be talking about the art anymore?

“I... I don’t know what to do with it. I can’t imagine anything better than simple, whole, perfection.” Doesn’t sound like you are either, Lionel. I shrug. “Besides, white is the most clear, calming color. It’s my favorite, by far. It always makes me feel... good. Safe.”

“White is? Really? Why do you think that is?” He leans in, interested. Lenore begins to tap on the edges of my mind. Lionel.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. Lionel. I can feel my hand reaching for the paintbrush.

“Well, Lionel. Why don’t you try painting on it anyways? What other colors speak to you?” Hey, Lionel. I keep brushing Lenore off, tuning her out.

“Oh jeez I don’t know...” Lionel!!

“Alright, well maybe...” Lenore’s desires suddenly grip viscously, and Cliff’s words fade out to me, his mouth continues to move but all sound drains from my head. Only to be filled with the static of Lenore. Lionel Soldner you listen to me right now.
Obeying a series of her commands, I suddenly dunk the brush into the jar of water, and then throw it onto the black watercolor circle, twisting the brush aggressively. I can hear when Cliff stops talking, when the drained noise actually turns into silence. I can feel his surprise next to me. Lenore’s words grow louder as she tells me to PLEASE COVER THAT WHITE. I start my brush gently, in the corner. I don’t want to ruin it. But her voice grows more urgent, louder, she keeps ordering me to JUST SPLATTER THE BLACK ACROSS IT. COAT THAT MISERABLE, EMPTY AGONY IN DEEP BLACK BEAUTY. HURRY NOW. She keeps babbling about PURPOSE! WE HAVE A POINT!! WE CHANGE THE WORLD! My hand splatters the darkest, messiest, sloppiest black across the paper, the water soaks through, ruining it, the black bleeds everywhere, onto my hands, the table. Cliff starts in surprise.
“Woa Lionel! Calm down, buddy!”
In a flash-- Lenore is quiet again, content. Leaving me to stare in shock at my dripping hands, brush, and the poor, mutilated page. Water oozing from the paper’s surface and onto the table, trickling over the smooth wood and onto the floor with a steady; drip, drip, drip.

Author's Note

This awesome chick: http://www.writerscafe.org/VivaciousAnoesis helped me out with the Onyx/Lionel dialogue.
This was barely edited.

Reviews

[Astro MacGuffin]

I hope there's no faux pas if I review the entire work in summary, and just dump it on this chapter.

At first, I thought this was going to be a set up for a short, macabre piece. Not that I want to see anything bad happen to these twins! But, wherever this is going, you are building up satisfying character interactions, and satisfying characters. Moreover, you have nailed the whole point of writing a novel: writing something novel.

I'm looking forward to the third therapist, although I do also wish that we had been shown a later session with his first therapist, prior to this chapter's narrative.

The internal dialogue gives you much free reign, but my only criticism is that you are establishing Lionel's character allegory rather explicitly at every turn. (Before I continue, let me say, I'm rating this 100. Expletive great writing. To me, 100 means that if I paid for this, I would be happy every time I thought about that money having been spent.)

The explicitness, and your consistent presentation of the characters, just give each other the slightest film of redundancy in style. It makes me feel like you could be feeding the character nuances at a slightly faster pace, or using some small physical actions in place of thought-stream metanarratives, a tiny bit more often. The short chapter structure also goes a long way to alleviating this, but with so much internal dialogue (that's just so much fun to say, thanks for giving me the reason to use that phrase) it's a delicate line to walk.

I hope this was helpful, because the story is genuinely enriching.

[Ivy Navillus]

This is so incredibly helpful! You are the first person to give me actual ADVICE! I greatly appreciate the help and I am SO GLAD you like it! I'll try to go through and clear out the mental clutter next time I edit it! Thanks again for the advice, I look forward to hearing from you again in my later chapters!

[Astro MacGuffin]

Don't overthink this advice or how you use it. Keep in mind that what you have posted already, is winning, and you don't want to add too much spice to such good soup. But, I'm very glad I was helpful :-)

[Ivy Navillus]

I'll be sure to keep that in mind, thank you so much!

[Ras Fish]

I have been extremely excited for this! and I am extremely pleased with it! the dialogue is beautifully written, great as always.

[Ivy Navillus]

Oh I'm so glad! It took me FOR F*****G EVER to kick my a*s into gear and do it. Now I just gotta crank out the next three..... ARH >8U