Chapter 38: Wandering minds (Part 1/2):
***Warning: There's artistic nudity in this part!***
DAVID'S POV
"David, could you please pass the caviar?" Eli was holding a piece of bread in his hand like it was a hard diamond.
I passed the caviar his way, not saying a word. He loved that shit even though it tasted like an overly salted clump of curdled milk. Truthfully, I believed he only "loved" it because it was so expensive and uncommon.
To be truthful, this dinner was more about my father than any of us. Mr. Lockhart's daughter just stared at me with so much purpose. I knew she wanted to talk to me, but she just insisted on staring me down instead.
My father raised his flute of champagne in the air, acknowledging it before he tilted it towards his nose, taking light sips. "Absolutely divine." He simpered.
Mr. Lockhart leaned back in his chair, watching us all more intently than he was a few minutes ago. "You see, I knew you would like it." He lifted his hands, showcasing all of the expensive shit he had in his house. "We're men of the same blood, we think alike. Don't we?" He crossed his hands together, resting them on his stomach.
"Indeed, we do." My father replied, exchanging the same energy with Mr. Lockhart. It was all in their eyes, the way they looked at each other showed how they really felt about each other... Envious, yet intentful- they needed each other if they wanted to climb to the top.
They went back and forth about politics and wealth the entire night, and they sounded foolish; educated and stupid in the same token.
"We're new money, but don't be fooled, we know what we're doing with our money." My father leaned in closer to the table, changing his tonality. "I'm sure you've heard of the Costa's." He shook his head, snickering with a sly smile traced along his lips. "God, that family really had taken a lot of losses. They can't seem to keep themselves afloat with all of the things being said about them."
That was my father, taking pleasure in someone else's misfortune. "But they're old money. Their time is fizzling away, soon they won't even be heard of anymore." He tilted his head to the side, smiling like a snob. "We learn from their mistakes, while they try and be us..." His smile grew even wider, "Of course, they're never nearly as successful as us though."
Mr. Lockhart adjusted his tie, clearing his throat as he frowned. "You see that's why men like us have to stick together, Mr. Rakeson." He lowered his eyes, "There's always someone out for our riches." The look in his eyes drew me in, he was hypnotic in the most devious way. "Sure they may seem to have it all together but look at it this way... they're snakes and we're hawks." He ran his fingers through his salt and pepper contrasted hair. "They're sneaky, but we're sneakier. While they roll around on the ground, we roam around in the sky and stalk them at night. Sure we're young and less experienced, but we still have more determination than them, we're spry and keen. Once they're caught in their moment of weakness we swoop down and snatch them right between our beaks, vindicating our vengeance." He smiled, at my father. "Have no fear Mr. Rakenson, have no fear."
I took a moment to look around his house, realizing why I felt uneasy. His words were enough to make anyone feel out of place, but the paintings on his wall were almost obscene. Never mind that, it wasn't necessarily the paintings that were obscene... It was the amount that made it feel obscene. Every single painting on his wall was of a woman, a naked woman. Some brunettes, some blondes, some tan, others pale. It was like he had some freaky fetish.
The way his floor shined and bounced the light from the chandelier dangling from the ceiling was supposed to be majestic but it was unbearably intrusive. I looked down at my plate, the chicken was cut in an adjacent slant and set on the side, untouched.
This fancy shit was getting old. I spent the whole week trying to be as proper as I possibly could and I felt like I was going to lose it. I hopped out of my seat like a fish out of water, dying for air. Everyone just looked at me.
"David!" My mother scolded, "Sit down!" She pointed at my plate. "We haven't even started dinner yet! Don't be rude."
Eli looked at me but he didn't say anything. My father gave me his 'You better not fuck this up!' stare, asking me, "Is there a problem David?"
"No-" I stumbled with my words. "Actually, yes there is a problem." I wanted to punch him in his fucking face for having that kind of unspoken control over me.
"Well, what's the issue?" He looked at me like I needed to give him an answer otherwise my argument was invalid.
In an alternate reality I could see myself flipping that fucking table over, throwing the plates across the room, jumping on top of my father and beating him until he was black and blue in the face. I clenched my fist, concentrating on my breaths, trying not to lose the little bit of control I had left in me. "I just need time alone." I hissed.
My father's face grew red like a cherry. "Time alone?! Time alone for what?!"
"Hey, hey, hey!" Mr.Lockhart interrupted, "Please let the boy do as he wishes. I'm not at all offended." He stared at me with a knowing look. "My house is your house son, please enjoy yourself; come back and eat whenever you want."
I faced my father who had nothing to say while my mother just sat there looking at her fingernails as if she were afraid she had done something wrong. Finally returning Mr.Lockhart's gaze, I thanked him. "Thanks, I really appreciate it."
Before walking away I noticed how Mr.Lockhart's daughter was staring at me. She seemed so intrigued by my little 'scene.'
Her eyes followed my body until I was no longer in a visible distance. I cut the corner and headed upstairs, walking into the middle of nowhere really.
Their halls seemed never ending, they were black like a cavern you could get lost in. Everywhere I turned their was some kind of portrait of a nude woman. Ass, breasts, rosy cheeks, nipples, and Juno-esque shapes near and far.
I stopped and paid attention to one in particular, it caught my eye, it was different than the rest. A woman was standing in front of a mirror, everything around her seemed so dim and dark. It was hard to tell how she felt about herself, she looked conflicted and transfixed with herself. In a way it was almost depressing if you kept staring at it.
As crazy as it sounded, it made a vision flicker through my mind. I wanted to write a song. Something deep and mysterious, something in a minor key.
Without trying to lose my train of thought I turned around to go back downstairs and get my guitar.
"Hey!" Rue (Mr.LockHart's daughter) was in my face, like she was standing right behind me the whole time. "Are you okay?"
Something about her was just so God damn off. The way she moved her eyes and looked over my face all the way to my neck and shoulders almost made me feel cornered.
"No, I was just looking around." I knew she wanted to talk. The whole entire time I had been here, she wanted to talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and talk!
"Oh." Her smile was so twitchy and seemed like it could drop at any second. "Is it the paintings?" She asked, glancing at the one I was standing next to.
I looked at her eyes and they just kept moving away from mine. "Kind of." They probably had many people curious as to why they had so many paintings like that in their house.
"My father has a reason for these paintings; he cherishes them." She grazed her fingers over her arm, lowering her head towards the ground. "He always admired my mother's beauty and when she died he had to find a sense of comfort, without upsetting me." She seemed to dig her nails deep into her skin. "Instead of dating other women, he got all these paintings. At first I hated them, but now they feel like they belong here."
I cringed, thinking about how lonely he must've been. "That's-"
"Beautiful, right?" She was rubbing the side of her neck, her eyes big and wide, seeking my gaze.
That wasn't what I was going to say, but it was a grim topic. I didn't know when her mother died either; I didn't want to open a fresh wound. "Well, yeah. I'm sure it has to be a lot of things... Beautiful, artistic, comforting, sad, joyful." I shrugged, really not having a clue what to say to her.
The smile she gave me was finally sincere, it took her a moment before she spoke. She ran her fingers along her jaw line, reaching down to her neck. "I'm glad you can see it differently than most people." Reaching out her hand, she touched the painting. "Most people walk up to this and say it's vulgar and obscene but-" She stuttered, frowning as she continued. "Some things are just more beautiful from far away."
"I guess you have a point." From far away you would think that I had a stable family, but the reality was that it was far from stable. People just like living out the dreams that others make for them; it's sad, but it's the truth. "Well... I need some time to myself now. It was nice to finally speak to you for once." I resounded, slowly backing away from her.
She could've been a door, a locked one. Blocking me from walking through it; but I made it through her despite her attempt to keep me standing there.
****
C Major was considered to be one of the "brightest keys" by any musician. Everyone loved it, yet its counterpart A minor was completely composed of the same keys; it just sounded completely different. In one instant you could start out on 'C' and be playing a "happy song;" but start the song on 'A,' play it through, and you're in a totally different world. The relative minor keys always tripped me up.
The icy touch of the wind made my fingers feel hard and brittle. I moved my fingers up and down the fret board of my guitar, getting a feel for the key. My breath appeared in one big fluffy white cloud in front of me.
White sheets of snow covered the ground, along with the sprinkled pieces that appeared in the trees. Something about the change of season made me feel more aware about everything. In Florida, you never really got to experience that shift from season to season.
My paper and pen were resting beside me, fresh and clean... For now. I stretched out my legs, not really thinking of anything. Ad-libbing was the closest form of expression for me, there was no point in changing my routine.
"Your lips are full of fury.
You're dangerous, oh so dangerous.
My tongue is a hot match, striking against your lips.
When it flicks, the flame ignites.
It ignites.
It burns so bright.
So wrong, yet it feels so God damn right.
I'm burning, baby I'm burning."
"Ah fuck!" I muttered, scribbling some words on my notepad. I looked at them again, judging them more harshly, and then I grab the paper, crush it up into a ball and throw it onto the floor. "Way too cheesy."
How the hell did this make any sense. I could feel the mood I wanted, the tone I wanted, the expression that I wanted.... Yet I couldn't actually communicate that. That language, that spirit, that depth. Maybe my thoughts were bigger than me....
I shifted around in the chair a little more, knowing what I had to do. A true artist puts them self in a vulnerable position... Even if it's detrimental... They lay it all out there.
"It's you...
I don't know who you are.
So scarred, but you look so nice from afar-"
"Fuck!" I threw my note pad onto the ground and my white breath bursted through the air. It wasn't sounding the way I wanted it to; it didn't sound right.
Something was off, and I couldn't stop suppressing myself, my thoughts... Everything!
"Somethin' got'cha feelin' down?" Rue peered out of the corner of the door. "Brrrr! It's cold out here, isn't it?" She rubbed her hands together, her teeth were almost chattering. Her dress might as well have been a shirt. She had a nice shape but she really needed to cover up, she would catch a frost bite if she stood out here any longer.
I didn't say anything. She was listening to me, probably way before she decided to come out here.
Walking over to the edge, I leaned over the balcony. Looking down at everything really put shit into perspective.
"There's a girl isn't there?" Her voice was so ominous, and all-knowing. She got closer to me, standing beside my left shoulder.
"No. There's no one." I replied. "No one, except me." She was putting me on the hot seat.
"Oh please!" She snickered, her eyes jumped around more and more. "Guys never change for better... And for worse."
"Neither do women."
"Well, since you know so much about women, you should know how we are." She furrowed her eyebrows. "There's only so much shit we'll take before we walk away." Her hand pulled into a tight grip. "Don't wait until we blow up... Because when we do.... That shit is not pretty. Avoid the explosion, fix it before it blows up in your face."
As much as I ignored it, she was right. Lately I had been feeling uneasy about a lot of shit. So many things could go wrong, especially since I confided in Cris. I trusted him, but it was still a risk. I wanted to choose so badly, but it was so god damn hard.
It was like having a glass of water and slice of lemon meringue pie. The water was pure, simple, clean, fresh... No problems there. But water gets boring after a while; sure, it's good for you but having water every single day for the rest of your life? It's pretty mundane. The water makes you yearn after a while... For something more. So you seek out that slice of lemon pie, it's bitter, tart, yet sweet with all of it's extra finishing touches. Was it good for you? Hell no. But did it satisfy your desires? Heck yeah. The thing is that you can only have so much lemon at a time... After a while it becomes too much to handle and then you seek out that glass of refreshing water again, to cool off your tastebuds and start over. That was the problem, it was like one big cycle.
Sometimes I wondered if it was possible to have affectionate feelings for two people at once. Was it possible to love someone yet want someone else too? Maybe I wasn't ever in love to begin with. Maybe I fell out of love. Either way, I needed to make a decision.
