The Artist - August 2009 Part VI

When I woke up, it was evening again. Apparently, I'd slept through the entire day - aside from being woken up to be given medicines or have my temperature taken. Around seven o'clock Jack, Brian and Nathan came into my room and closed the door behind them. That was when I knew something big was up. Especially with the looks on both Brian and Jack's faces. The two of them kept glancing uneasily at Nathan, which started making me nervous about him all over again. 

Something in my eyes must've shown because Nathan paused as he started to sit down next to my bed again. Frowning, he looked from me to the other two and back. Finally he said, "Great, now I know how you two guys felt when I was in mental contact with her, this morning. Now is anyone going to let me in on the secret or are we going to play charades? Which would be really tough on her, considering her condition."

I made a little noise to get his attention and then began inhaling deeply to get my point across.

"Oh, right," Nathan nodded and once more one of his hands misted allowing me to breath it in and communicate more freely.

"Why are they staring at you so anxiously?" I asked mentally, trying to keep my own anxiety in check.

Nathan gave the other two a look and turned back to me. "Because, I told them what I have in mind to help you finish your art piece in time for the exhibition," he said gently. "However, neither of them are all that sure you're going to like my proposal, or at least what it involves."

While I couldn't move my jaw without severe pain, I had no problem raising a questioning eyebrow at him. Finally I thought, "Care to elaborate?"

He thought for a moment before saying, "Depends. Do you want the full-scale slideshow presentation or the bottom line version?"

"Bottom line, please," was my reply.

"I'm going to give you access to my eyes and control of my hands," Nathan answered.

"Come again?" I asked mentally.

Leaning forward he explained. "As you said yesterday, I don't have the skills to manipulate the clay and do what's needed to get your sculpture ready.  But you do. You know how the clay should feel and how to handle the tools and whatnot. However, you can't leave this bed, at least not physically. But,  what if I took you with me to the studio 'mentally' so to speak?"

I admit I was both puzzled and intrigued. "Do you mean like how we're communicating right now? Through this bond you made?" 

"It will be something a bit stronger," he replied and leaned forward. "You'd actually be able to see through my eyes and even feel whatever I touch or manipulate with my hands."

For a moment I was tempted, then shook my head. "You still wouldn't know how to manipulate the clay or the tools..." I began.

"But you would if I let you control my hands," he cut in patiently. "Which is what I plan to do. Once we were in the studio I'd let you take over, up to a point. I'd get everything ready, under your guidance, but when it came time to actually work on the sculpture you'd be in charge. I'd be sort of in the background watching and experiencing what you do."

It sounded insane, yet at the same time I was intrigued. Then a thought hit. "What about my body back here? What will be happening to it?" 

"You'd basically be asleep," Nathan assured me. "You'd still be breathing and everything, It would just be your conscious self would be awake seeing and feeling through me."

I had to admit it sounded like a very good idea. Yet I couldn't stop glancing over at Brian and Jack, who were still looking uneasy, even worried.

They must've caught me staring at them because Brian finally spoke up. "Before anyone gets too excited, Nathan you might want to tell her what has to happen for this little experiment to take place." 

Immediately, my heart sank. For Brian to look this worried, it had to be something bad. Turning my gaze to Nathan I thought, "Is there something you haven't brought up yet?"

Without blinking my would-be savior shifted uncomfortably and then glared at the other two. For a second he put me in mind of the cartoon mouse "The Brain" shooting a dirty look at his partner "Pinky". A silent exchange of heated gestures passed between the three of them, before Nathan finally turned back to me and smiled sheepishly. "As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, there is..."

"And what is it?" Even without being able to move my mouth, I managed to put an pointed edge to the question.

"To make this happen, I'll need to bite you," he winced.

TO BE CONTINUED...

The Artist - August 2009 Part III

Of course the accident happened shortly after that and I wound up in the hospital. And as you know I received dozens of visitors who constantly reassured me that everything would be all right. Such words and sentiments were always welcome and helped make the day pass more easily. 

But night-time was another matter. Everything would be quiet, aside from the staff making their rounds. Occasionally one would wake me up to draw blood or give me my medications, but for the most part I was on my own with only my thoughts for company. That's when dealing with my situation became much harder.  

That's when all those little fears we keep hidden away come out to plague us. And believe me I had a lot of them which kept me company for hour after hour. Most of them involved not being able to use my hands to sculpt. I won't tell you how many times I wound up crying myself to sleep, but it happened a lot. I tried to keep quiet about it (which should have been easy with my mouth wired shut), but one person found out.

I woke one morning to someone gently dabbing the sides of my eyes with handkerchief. It was Brian. Dr. Jack Tyler, my physician and our mutual friend, had allowed him in before visiting hours had officially begun. Jack had noticed the tear soaked tissues before and had tried to draw me. I would've have loved to have told him what was wrong, but first and foremost he was my doctor. A doctor in frequent demand so we kept getting interrupted. After a while I just stopped trying.

Luckily, Jack is someone who doesn't give up easily, especially when you're his patient as well as his friend. So he'd gone out of his way to get Brian here to make sure they found out what was troubling me. By this time I was able to make some sounds, but understanding me was not easy. Yet somehow we managed. 

 

As it turned out, both of them suspected I was worried about my works in progress back at the studio. With this in mind, Brian had gone to check on things for me. He even took photos on his phone and shared them with me.  

While I was relieved to see everything was still untouched, a part of me felt guilty at the same time. Seeing my kiln just sitting there waiting to be filled, or my tools just hanging on their hooks, they it all looked so lonely. Then I saw the piece of my grandfather, still wrapped in the plastic just as I'd left it. That's when the tears began to flow. 

It took Jack and Brian some time, but they managed to understand to get the full story out of me.

The date of the exhibition, which was still going to happen, was also my mother's birthday that she shared with her father. It would have been his 108th. I had secretly been planning to have his sculpture to be the centerpiece of the show, as well as a gift to both my mom and his memory.

Once they understood, Brian exchanged a look with Jack who nodded. Then he turned back to me and said, "Don't worry, it's going to be all right. Just trust me."

In spite of the fact that I had absolutely no idea what they had planned, something about Brian's tone was extremely reassuring.  After that, they talked about their families and kept me amused for another half an hour. By then I was feeling tired again and managed to drift off without the help of medication for a change.

The rest of the day passed as all the others had, medications, smoothie meals, and television. There were a couple of more visitors, but it's what the night brought that I really want to talk about. Or rather, who it brought.

I'd been listening to an audiobook with my eyes closed, so I never heard my visitors arrive. It wasn't until Brian gently tapped my shoulder that I realized anyone had come. Looking up I saw him and Jack smiling down at me. Then from behind them Nathan popped his head out and waved at me. 

Unable to help myself, I shuddered. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

The Artist - August 2009

When I was a child I thought of angels as beings with huge white wings and cherubic faces. But now I know they come in many different shapes and sizes. I met a great many of them back in the hospital, for which I am forever grateful. But there is one in particular, who I wish to talk about right now. He is someone I've known almost all my life, who left me deeply frightened because I saw him drinking the blood of another like a fiend from an old Hammer Horror movie.

Admittedly, the one he took the blood from had kidnapped me along with my friend Brian, we were both children at the time, but seeing your rescuer seemingly turn from angel to an avenging demon left me rattled for many years after.

I hadn't understood back then that Nathan had simply come to save us and had seen things inside that warehouse that neither Brian nor I had. I still don't know all that he saw, but I do remember his clothing looking torn as if he'd been through hell before reaching us and our captor. There was no blood on him at the time, but I didn't know his body could absorb blood from his clothing. But even that wasn't enough. I know now that he had lost a fair amount of blood just trying to reach us.

However, that's not something I want to talk about right now. Yes, I can talk properly again. My jaw is finally healed. I can even use my own hands again, even if they don't quite feel the same.

I keep fearing that they may have lost some of their dexterity from before the accident. But that doesn't seem be the case. I'm still able to do my art and everyone tells me I'm as good as before, possibly even better. Yet, it doesn't quite feel the same. Maybe because the clay feels different to me these days, although I think that's partly thanks to Nathan. Perhaps he's helped me in more ways than even he realizes. However, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I don't remember much from the accident, it all happened so fast. Hell, there wasn't any warning like the sound of tire trying to screech to a halt, just an impact and my world flipped... and pain. That's all I can remember. When I fully regained consciousness I was in a hospital, my hands in bandages and unable to move my jaw even though I wanted to scream. The sight of my hands all wrapped up like that, even before anyone said anything I just knew it was bad... REALLY BAD! They were my livelihood, my 'special voice', the things that created things I couldn't always find the words to say to express how I felt. To have them silenced along with my actual voice, was more of an agony than the pain I was already in.

I remember trying to ask what happened, over and over again, but with my jaws wired shut I didn't know how to make myself understood. Everyone kept telling me to blink once for 'yes' and twice for 'no' then began asking me simple questions, but they took so long to get to what I wanted to know. I almost wished they'd never got to that point.

I'd been hit by a drunk driver, T-boned to be exact. His SUV had got me just behind the driver's door, otherwise I might not be here. But the impact had been strong enough to send my little bug rolling and into a pole. Needless to say, he'd walked away without a scratch in more ways than one. The bastard was rich and got off with house-probation, although he was made to pay for my medical expenses. Not so much by the court but by 'someone' else as I later found out. But more about that later. The jury had also hit him with pain and suffering pretty heavily, but his lawyers were pretty slick and seemed to be swaying the judge to their way of thinking. Then all of a sudden the judge  called for an adjournment for lunch, even though it was only 10:30 in the morning. When the court resumed he slammed the guy with the full amount the jury had recommended, and even tacked on a few more expenses for my attorneys and loss of income.

Naturally, the guy tried to appeal it. But he lost again... twice. After that he suddenly stopped trying and just paid up. How did this happen? The same way I got saved all those years ago from the creeps who kidnapped me and Brian. And for that I will always be grateful, but not nearly as much as for what he did when it came to the piece I'd been working on at the time of the accident. The piece that meant more to me than any other...

TO BE CONTINUED...