I turn and grab my extra tube of red. I mix it in my palet to perfection, and
dip my paintbrush into it. I continue to paint, humming along with Robert Plant.
Finally I am painting. It seems like so much time has past, so much time that I
couldn't spend painting. I can't even remember when I last picked up a
paintbrush.
The Boys have a performance tonight, and luckily for me, I know what I
have to do. Nick’s memories are in my mind, therefore I know all the
routines and special notes to do. This is good. I won’t be placed in a
position to make myself and him look bad.
“Yes there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run...there’s still time
to change the road you’re on...”
Today I am painting the sunset, going down by the pool, the pool’s soft
waves capturing my fancy. An idea of a portrait is coming into my mind, yet I am
not ready. I need to get a clear picture in my mind before I start to work.
This is the life. Painting while listening to Led Zeppelin. It doesn’t get any
better than this.
Knocking on the door awakens me from my painting-induced euphoria.
“Come in.”
The door creaks open, and Alex steps in, a natural smile on his face. It
pleases me to witness a genuine smile.
“Busting out the paint, I see.”
I turn and smile at him. “It just struck out to me.”
Alex admires my painting, and from his expression, I know he knows the
style is familiar.
“It’s great.”
He stares at the radio, his eyes a little sad. “Stairway to Heaven. How
appropriate.”
Led Zeppelin is something he associates with me and only me. In the
Backstreet family, no one could fathom how I enjoyed them so much. And
now here is Nick, listening to Alex’s beloved Gwen’s bible music. Isn’t that
what I called it once? My bible music?
“I used to wonder whether or not this song was the basis of her stairway
theory.”
I shake my head firmly. “No. The song didn’t inspire the theory.”
Alex is confused, by both the tone of annoyance in my voice and my
knowledge.
“She told me about the theory once. The song didn’t inspire it. She saw it once
herself, in a dream. Did you know that?”
Alex now is curious. He sits next to me, wanting to know about this part of Gwen
never revealed.
“She was always able to see things, things no one else saw. Always in her
dreams, too.
“When her cousin Andy died, she saw him in a dream, walking along this
bridge. It was beautiful, silver and lined with white carnations, his favorite
flower. And every time a relative or friend died, she always had a dream...watching them walk their stairway.”
My tone turns bitter. “They tried to say she was wrong. Said she was a
demon for seeing such things. She saw Hell, not Heaven. Always said that’s where
she belonged. They even told her mother that she had indeed went to Hell.”
I have never told Nick any of this. But it is all true. My overly-religious
family, excluding my parents and siblings, swore that my dreams and visions were
the work of Satan. After my death, I once had a vision of my father’s mother
gleefully telling my mother that her demon of a daughter was in the Hell she had
seen in her dreams.
I had wanted to be a demon and rip my grandmother’s throat out. No one
hurts my mother and gets away with it.
I look over at Alex, who looks shocked at the thought of me being a demon. “She
used to joke around and say that her family thought she was the Anti-Christ. I
didn’t know it wasn’t a joke.”
“It hurt her.”
And Understatement of the Year goes to Gwen Barlow. It is more than just a sore
spot with me. It is just wrong to tell a five year-old she was going to go to
Hell.
They had been right in a way. I hadn’t went to Hell, but I certainly hadn’t went
to Heaven, either.
“She told you this?”
I turn away from my canvas and look over at Alex. The sunset shines in and
illuminates his face.
I used to love watching people. I always saw behind the facade, watched
their souls. It’s amazing how one can hide their soul. But the soul can’t be
hidden in the sun and moon, from what I’ve noticed. The soul can be fully seen
in the sun and moon, if you know what to look for.
I see Alex’s soul right now. And one of the questions I had once had is
answered.
He does love my soul.
“Yeah.”
Alex looks into my eyes, and he is intensely beautiful, in a divine sort of way.
He’s a true angel, one of God’s masterpieces.
He is further studying my painting, which means he is closer to me. I am
trying to resist that sensual pout, the one that forms when he is
concentrating. With just one turn of the head, I can be kissing him. Will it be
any different with Nick’s lips?
“I had a dream just a few minutes ago. It was weird.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I was running after you. I finally reached you, but when you turned around, it
was just half of you. The other half was Gwen.”
Something is trying to tell him that Nick and Gwen have somehow joined
together. Being a man ensures the fact that he won’t get it until he’s hit over
the head with it.
“Weird.”
“Yeah. I just don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to believe.”
Believe anything, I want to say. If you believe anything, we’ll be together much
more quickly.
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Don’t talk then. Just listen.”
My eyes widen in alarm. He used to say that all the time. But he only said it to
me...never to the other guys.
“Listen, Nick, I’ve got to get my stuff. We’ll be leaving soon.”
“I’ll be ready.”
He leaves the room, and I am suddenly hit the picture I had yet to clearly form.
A smile comes across my face. If the finished product is anything like the
picture in my mind, then it ought to be hung next to the Mona Lisa. Man, I love
it when I get a new idea.
