TheAmbassadorOfRomanceInVenus's blog: "Appreciating Romantic Friends"

Every pair of eyes in the establishment turned toward the darkbrowned, muscular young man who had arrived in the yellow Corvette that had screeched to a stop in front moments before. He returned their gazes defiantly before descending the three steps to the sunken floor and crossing the room to sit at the end of the bar on that side. The green pattern in his shirt glowed eerily within the nimbus of a sign on the wall advertising Royal Beer, and his dark eyes seemed to glow likewise as he stared at the neon words. The female bartender placed a napkin in front of the brawny youth and said, “What can I get for you?” “Beer—any kind but that.” He indicated the sign on the wall. “And make it a pitcher.” “Sure thing, handsome, but I’m gonna need to see some ID.” He reached in his pocket and slapped a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “Will that do?” She palmed the bill and tucked it in her bra. “Helluva good likeness.” He was still glaring at the sign when she returned with his pitcher and glass. “So, how long you been in town, honey?” His eyes moved slowly from the sign to her face. “How much will it cost for you to go chat up somebody else?” Her smile vanished. “My treat, jerkwad.” He filled the glass with beer and chugged it, then stared into the empty glass. “One down, ninety-nine to go.” From behind him, a woman’s voice: “I’m afraid that would leave you much too inebriated for the evening’s activities.” He turned to rebuke the interloper and froze at the sight of the luminous creature before him. Light seemed to emanate from the pores of her ivory skin, and her hair appeared more of an iridescent silver than mere blonde, but it was her eyes that were the most striking thing about her—the perfect blue of a cloudless sky at the height of summer. The scathing words he had planned to utter dissipated in the glow of her countenance, and he found himself fighting baffling tears. She took his hand in both of hers. “I’ve been waiting for you, Sunny. Come with me and I’ll take you to meet him.” He rose to follow her but said, “Who are you, and how do you know me?” “My name is Nicole and I was sent to be your guide. All young people have one when they first arrive.” “Arrive where? I don’t even know where I am.” “I know you don’t, my son.” She stroked his forearm in a maternal gesture to match the endearment. “But try to be patient. Things will become clearer before long.” She led him to a door on the right of the stage where a four-piece jazz band was playing, and she paused with her hand on the knob. “Before we go in, I must tell you something and want you to listen carefully. Any fears or doubts in your heart and your mind must be banished before you answer the question you will be asked inside. You mustn’t be afraid to answer with your heart’s true desire, no matter how unobtainable you think it may be. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Terror gripped his heart in an icy fist. “No, I can’t understand things like other people because I’m—” “That’s not true , Sunny. Listen to that voice in your heart and believe what she tells you.” He looked startled. “How do you—?” She put a finger on her lips to silence him. “Patience, my son. Just believe.” He’d never had any use for faith before, but there was no looking into the flawless blue of her eyes without wanting to believe. Something about her brought to mind the memory of the way his mother had always kissed his forehead as she put him to bed when he was little. She opened the door and he followed her without question into a room that was much too large to fit inside the building at all. Paintings enclosed in ornate frames adorned the walls on both sides of the room. A man frowning in concentration sat facing them behind a large easel and canvas in the middle of the room. “I’ll be with you in a moment. I’m almost done.” His gaze remained on the canvas as he spoke. The artist looked oddly familiar, but he seemed to resemble more than one person. Sunny couldn’t get a handle on whom he looked like because the man’s facial features seemed to change a millisecond before Sunny’s eyes could focus on them. “Who is he?” he whispered to Nicole. “He is everyone and no one,” she replied with a serene smile. “He is The Painter.” His frustration at her vague answer was overshadowed when he noticed the artist was missing one of his ears. Hadn’t he heard something about a famous painter who had cut off an ear? Wasn’t there a song about him that Jeana had . . . His breath escaped his body at just the thought of her. He staggered back and might have fallen if not for Nicole’s hand in his and the words she spoke softly to him. “Don’t be frightened, Sunny. Look again.” His eyes returned to the man at the easel and widened when he saw that not only did he have two perfectly normal ears, his face now bore the weathered, craggy features of Coach Paul “Bear” Bryant. “Is it really him?” sunny asked in an awed tone. “If that’s who you need him to be, then yes.” Nicole smiled and gently pulled him forward. “Come, let’s go talk to him.” They walked behind the man who still had not taken his eyes from the canvas before him, and Sunny caught his breath again because the man now resembled the actor who had played Shane in the movie he had loved so much as a kid. And when he looked at the painting, the canvas was blank despite the brush tipped in brown paint the artist was touching to it. “I don’t see anything,” Sunny whispered. “That’s because this painting is not yours,” Nicole replied. “Only the person it is painted for can see it until it has been framed and hung.” “Done,” the man said, leaning back to survey his work. He pulled a cloth attached to the back of the easel over the canvas and turned to look at his visitors. “Hello, dear Nicole. I see you have a new charge.” “Yes, Kind One.” She knelt and kissed his hand, looking up at him in adoration. “He is but eighteen years old and his heart is too troubled to continue his journey without your guidance. We’ve come to seek your help.” He bent to kiss the top of her head. “I sense your own heart is troubled, Nicole. Your daughter’s time of decision draws near, does it not?” “Yes, she is eighteen as well.” “Fear not, Nicole. You have prepared her well and must trust her to make the right choice.” She nodded and kissed his hand again before rising to draw Wade forward. This time, Sunny’s knees did buckle as he looked into the familiar face of Jesus from the portrait that had hung in his grandmother’s dining hall. The placid blue eyes were the most comforting sight he had ever seen, and he knelt with his head bowed. “Your heart is indeed troubled, my son.” The Painter put a hand on sunny’s shoulder. “You have more regrets than your age allows. Choose the one that troubles you the most and we’ll see if we can fix it.” Sunny looked up at him in confusion. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” “You should not be here, my son. Your life was cut short by your own choosing, and your heart cries out with such anguish from your regrets that your soul cannot rest until you quiet the greatest source of your pain.” He turned to lift the cloth from the easel. “This canvas is your chance to right one final wrong. Tell me what to paint for you and it will be done.” “I don’t understand.” Tears spilled onto sunny’s cheeks and The Painter lifted his chin. “Close your eyes and look into your heart. Picture the scene you most want to see and describe it to me. When your eyes reopen, you will get one day to finish what was left undone.” Sudden joy transformed sunny’s face. “Anything I want to see?” “Yes, but there are things you must remember. You will return only to the scene you describe and nothing else, and for only one day.” “I know exactly what I want.” Sunny closed his eyes but opened them again when The Painter touched his cheek. “Do not choose hastily or you could leave your heart more troubled than it is now, my son. You will not get this chance again, and you must also think of the person you wish to see once more. They will experience all this as a dream but will be no less affected by it. Choose selfishly and you could hurt the one you love the most.” “Then help me, please.” sunny’s eyes beseeched him. “I’ve screwed up everything I’ve ever done.” Nicole knelt beside him and took his hand. “I think you know someone who would disagree with that, sunny. Isn’t she the one you want to see?” He nodded and his voice was choked with tears when he spoke again. “She’s the only one who ever made me feel like I was worth anything.” “This will be your final shared memory with her, Sunny. Make it one both of you will cherish, and everything will be all right.” “You mean I should give her something good to remember about me?” “Would that make you happy?” “Her smile is enough to make me happy forever.” “Then choose a place with only good memories and picture her there for your day together, then go tell her whatever it is you need her to know.” He clutched her hand. “You know what I should say to her, don’t you? Please tell me!” Nicole leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I can’t do that, son. No one can make that decision for you, but you can do it if you listen to your heart.” He started to shake his head and she put her hands on his face. “Sunny, what is the one thing you know for certain—without a doubt?” His tears spilled over again. “That I’ll always love her.” “And what do you want for her more than anything else?” “For her to be happy.” Nicole nodded. “Then you know what to say to her.” The blue depths of her eyes once again made him want to believe what she told him. “Okay,” he said. “I’m ready.” He looked at The Painter, who nodded and picked up his brush and palette. Sunny closed his eyes and described the scene in his heart, and when he opened them again, he was sitting in the swing on Isabelle’s front porch. He turned to his right and almost cried out when he saw her. She wore a sundress with yellow daisies blooming over a field of dark green, and she had one bare foot tucked under her with her auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders in a mass of gleaming curls. For several seconds, Sunny couldn’t breathe as he willed the image of her face to burn itself into his mind. “Sunny, I’m so happy to see you again. I’ve missed you so much.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and managed to say, “I miss you too, Isabelle. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just had to get away from my dad.” Her hazel eyes glistened with tears. “You should have let me help you, sunny. We could have figured out some way to get you away from him.” He shook his head. “I already caused you enough problems with your boyfriend.” “He would have understood, sunny. He knows we’re only friends.” “That’s not all you are to me, Isabelle. You know it, I know it, even he knows it. I love you and I always will.” “Oh, Sunny . . .” He wanted to tell her that nobody would ever love her as much as he did and beg her to love him back for their one last day together, but he knew she would be hurt too much by it when the day was over, so he forced himself to say the most difficult thing he’d ever said. “I’m glad you know I love you, Isabelle, and I want you to remember it always, but please don’t feel bad about it. Even though I would have given anything for you to love me back, if you had to fall for somebody else, I’m glad it’s somebody who’ll take care of you like I would have done.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “If he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.” “Thank you, sunny. I do love him, but no one will ever take your place in my heart. You’ll always be the first boy I ever kissed.” He smiled even though his heart was in pieces. “And the one who taught you to do a kick-ass half-gainer.” He was rewarded with her laugh, the sound he’d heard in his dreams since he was ten years old. “I still wish you could have taught me to whistle with my fingers like you do,” she said. “Show me again how you do it, Sunny.” He obliged with a shrill whistle and she laughed again. “Shoot, why can’t I do that?” He showed her the proper placement of her fingers and how to maneuver her tongue, and after numerous failures, a couple of near-misses and much laughter from both of them, she finally managed to produce a short whistle. Short because she gasped and threw her arms around his neck as soon as she heard it. “We did it, Sunny! Thank you so much, you know how long I’ve wanted to do that!” His arms closed around her and he pressed his face into the heavenly scent of her hair as he prayed for time to freeze them in that moment for eternity. “You’re welcome, Chillhot. I knew you could do it.” They talked for a long time about the shared memories they had of living next door to each other for most of their childhood, and they didn’t notice that storm clouds had gathered until ominous thunder alerted them. “I’d better go inside now, Sunny. It’s about to rain.” “No, I haven’t had all my time yet.” He held on to her hand when she stood. “Stay with me, Isabelle. We’ll be okay here on the porch.” “I didn’t like the sound of that thunder. You can come inside with me, sunny.” “I can’t, Isabelle. Please stay a little while longer.” She looked at the sky and, even though her eyes revealed her fear, she started to sit beside him again until thunder rumbled louder than before. She pulled her hand from his and hurried to the door. “I have to go in, Sunny!” He shouted at the sky, “This isn’t fair! I didn’t ask for storm clouds!” Isabelle was wrestling with the doorknob. “Why won’t it open? It’s not supposed to be locked!” She pounded on the door with her fist and rang the doorbell repeatedly with her other hand. “Somebody please let me in!” Sunny was ashamed of the relief he felt because she couldn’t get in, so he went to put his arm around her and coax her back to the swing. “Don’t be scared, Isabelle. I’ll protect you.” They sat in the swing again just as the rain began to fall in wide, undulating sheets. “Maybe there won’t be any more thunder. The rain is kinda nice to watch, don’t you think?” She nodded unenthusiastically. “I guess so, but I’d rather watch from inside.” After a minute or so with no thunder or lightning, he felt her start to relax and move away from him a little, and he realized he was responsible for the storm after all, because he couldn’t help wishing for another clap of thunder to make her huddle against him again. When he got his wish a moment later, he was glad she couldn’t see the guilty smile on his face as he pulled her closer. “It’s okay, Chillihot,” he murmured. “Just close your eyes and listen to my voice, like when we were kids.” She pressed her face against his chest with his shirt clutched in her hand, and he lay his cheek on top of her head as he said the words he knew from experience would take her mind off her fear. “Knock, knock . . .” He paused. “Come on, Isabelle. Say your part.” “Who’s there?” she whispered. “Madame.” “Madame who?” “Madame foot is caught in the door, so open up.” He kept up the flow of silly jokes until the storm had passed, and she looked up at him with unabashed hero worship, just like she had done when they were ten. “Thank you, sunny. I wish you could always be with me when it storms.” “I will be, Isabelle. Just close your eyes and you’ll feel my arms around you.” She moved to kiss his cheek, but he took her face in his hands and shook his head. “Kiss me for real this time, Isabelle. Just once before I have to go. Let me take the memory with me and I’ll survive on it forever.” Their faces were so close that his tears mingled with hers, but he was careful to keep their lips apart. It had to be her choice to kiss him if it was to mean anything. As they looked into each other’s eyes and he waited for her answer, Sunny became aware of distant voices he recognized as The Painter’s and Nicole’s. But when he tried to turn his head, he discovered he couldn’t move or speak, and Isabelle appeared completely inanimate and unaware of anything. The voices grew louder and sunny realized they were talking about him. “Please let me tell him,” Nicole said. “He needs to know, Kind One.” “I’m sorry, my dear, but I can’t allow you to do that,” The Painter replied. “His choices are his own. He was warned of the consequences.” “But he has been unselfish thus far and has good intentions. Doesn’t he deserve a little extra guidance to make up for all he didn’t get from his father?” “You are much more protective of him than your other charges, Nicole. He reminds you of your daughter, doesn’t he?” “Yes, and I feel a connection with the girl as well, as if I owe her for something she will do for my daughter in the future.” The Painter sighed deeply. “I am sorry, my child, but he will have to continue unassisted. Uncover the canvas.” Sunny felt his body released from the suspended animation he’d been in, and he felt Isabelle begin to breathe again as well. She was crying, but he detected a hint of a smile on her lips. “Okay, Sunny. One real kiss.” But when her lips touched his and he felt them part to give him access to the sweetness of her mouth, he knew what Nicole had wanted to warn him about. He couldn’t kiss Isabelle the way lovers kissed because that’s not what they were, no matter how much he wished it were true . And if she kissed him that way—even if she believed it had only happened in a dream and that she had done it only because she knew he wanted it so much—she would feel guilty about it later and would suffer for it, because that’s the kind of person she was. So he kissed her the way he had when they were eleven years old, an innocent kiss meant to show her that he thought she was the most special girl in the world. When the kiss ended, she looked at him in surprise. “But you said—” He put a finger on her lips. “You already gave me a kiss to remember forever, Isabelle. Our first kiss was the only one that ever meant anything to me anyway.” She smiled, and he suspected she knew the real reason he had changed his mind. She had always been the only one who really knew him. The clouds had cleared and he could tell by the change in the light that his time was almost up, and he was content to sit in the swing with his arm around her, pretending one last time that she was his girl. Much too soon, he heard Nicole’s voice in his head. “It’s time, Sunny. Tell her goodbye.” His heart began its final dissolution, but he fought the tears trying to start because he didn’t want that to be the way Isabelle saw him last. “I have to go now, Chillihot. Can I have one more hug?” She stood and pulled him up with her, tiptoeing to put her arms around his neck. “Goodbye, sunny. Thank you for coming to see me.” He held her as tightly as he dared. “Be happy, Isabelle. For me, okay?” “I’ll do my best, Sunny.” He felt her beginning to fade in his arms and couldn’t hold back his tears any longer. Just before she disappeared and his arms were empty, he heard the words that healed his heart. “Thank you for loving me, Sunny. I’ll see you every time it storms.” He opened his eyes and was back in the room with The Painter and Nicole, who had tears in her beautiful blue eyes as she looked at him. “I’m proud of you, Sunny. You made the right decisions all on your own.” The Painter turned from the now-covered canvas and put a hand on Sunny’s shoulder. “You chose well, my son. Your actions were unselfish and wise.” “She knows I love her and she’s glad. That’s almost like loving me back, isn’t it?” “She does love you, as a special friend,” The Painter said. “It is written in her heart and will never fade from her memory.” Sunny knelt before him and bowed his head. “Thank you for giving me this day with her. It was the most precious gift I’ve ever gotten.” “I am glad your heart is no longer troubled, my son. Go and be at peace.” When sunny lifted his head, The Painter and the easel were gone. “Come, Sunny,” Nicole said softly. “It’s time to go.” He rose and followed her to the door, but he stopped and looked back as a thought occurred to him. “Where did the painting go, Nicole? Is it hanging up now?” She nodded and pointed to the wall on their right. sunny walked over and looked at the framed canvas, with a smile dampened only slightly by sadness. The painting showed them in the swing after the rain ended, his arm around Isabelle and her head on his shoulder, a look of unmistakable happiness on her beautiful face. Across the sky above them was a rainbow.