Miserable or Otherwise

 

Lucinda sat on her back patio watching a small flock of robins hop around her backyard and she felt as big as a house, feeling the occasional kick as she reached the last few days of her pregnancy. She and her husband learned the gender of the child two months prior but kept this bit of news a secret, wanting to surprise friends and family. Pulling herself to her feet, she began a slow walk around the grass, wishing for the moment when her water would break and thankful that her husband was home.

One particularly aggressive kick landed upon her bladder, which clearly broke the amniotic sack, to drench her feet and slippers in the warm liquid. She cried out her husband’s name and began a careful waddle back toward the patio. The wide-eyed husband almost instantly appeared in the doorway and looked at her soggy slippers. With car keys in hand, he helped her through the kitchen, into the garage, and into the front seat of the car. He dialed 911 in the hopes that a police escort could be had, fearing a scenario where he would need to speed through their cul-de-sac and downtown.

A nurse met them at the front door of the birthing center with a wheelchair and within one hour Peterson number three arrived looking as beautiful and flawless as expected. After a forty-eight hour stay at the hospital, they returned home, made a few phone calls and began to receive a steady stream of visitors. Susan, the woman next door who was also pregnant stood at the side of Stuart’s crib, rubbing her belly, knowing that their child who was scheduled to arrive in less than two weeks would find a good friend in Stuart.

Five years passed and Stuart and his two-week younger best friend, Constantine entered the school bus together for their first day of kindergarten. The two boys moved from grade to grade, from project to project, and through all their conjoined plateaus of maturity as the years passed. They graduated high school together, inseparable, and knowing every wish, every desire, and every hope, one of the other. They may as well have been brothers, for neither one could remember a time when they didn’t have one another to find or give support.

While Stuart was the extreme academic as well as an athlete, Constantine was the artist who was always watching at every sporting event, every chess competition and every academic bowl.  Stuart faithfully encouraged Constantine to continually push himself harder, to expand his artistic skills, and emulate an unending array of painters to expand his skill set. It was with a heavy heart that Constantine watched Stuart drive away to university in the next state over, promising to visit him whenever possible. With the image still in his mind, he hurried back inside and painted a perfect rendition of the departure in a way that would have made Vermeer proud.

              Stuart and Constantine continually traded emails, texts, and phone calls, keeping one another informed of progress in academics, sports, and artistry. After a relatively short interview on a local radio station, Constantine sold three of his painting at prices that far surpassed his wildest dreams, his parent’s highest expectations, and Stuart’s as well, all of them believing that he had taken the next step in making himself known in the world of fine art.

              A month passed and he received an invitation to put on a show at an art installation downtown, news that he quickly passed on to Stuart, thanking him for pushing him, encouraging him, and challenging him to never be satisfied with moderate success. All but three of his pieces sold, bringing in a staggering amount of money, which allowed him to open his own studio in a rented space in the artistic region of town.

              The following four years passed surprisingly quickly, and Stuart received a job offer as an actuary in his hometown. His and Constantine’s relationship picked up as if it had never been interrupted. As their places of employment were relatively close, they met for lunch two or three days a week, thrilled at their reconnection and personal successes. Constantine’s success in painting, exposure, and sales grew too large for him to continue on his own, forcing him to hire a secretary to handle the financials, the front desk, and to act as a sort of executive assistant.

              Six months went by, and Constantine found himself becoming more and more drawn toward the secretary, who somehow seemed to shift into the role of girlfriend, advisor, and best friend. Once a month and sometimes more often, Stuart would come by the studio and Constantine could see the interaction between Stuart and Margaret becoming more and more hostile. He suspected that Stuart believed he was being replaced and seemed to think that their relationship was suffering and becoming lukewarm as time passed.

              Saddened by Stuart’s ideas and hostility toward Margaret, he did the only thing he could think to do which was to increase their time together, have him over for dinner, meet him for lunch more regularly, and leave encouraging voice mails and texts each day. But all of his time, energy, and hopes became interpreted as nothing more than vain attempts, and empty aspirations. As the months continued to pass, Constantine could see Stuart pulling further and further away, until it seemed that everything they once had was completely gone.

              Weeks after a somewhat secret marriage ceremony, Constantine walked out his front door to find that his car had disappeared, with an ominous symbol painted in red upon the concrete beneath where the car once stood. With no other option, he ordered an Uber and was met by Margaret an hour later at the studio. He placed a call to the police department, filing a claim that his car had been stolen. He and Margaret rode home together at the end of the day to find their spray-painted symbol in their drive had been marked out with crime scene tape and presumably photographed.

              Three more weeks passed, and the police could give no positive news on the whereabouts of his car, forcing Constantine to file a claim with his insurance company and buy a new vehicle. Feeling somewhat uninspired that particular morning, he and Margaret rode into work together to find that the large pane glass window in the front of the studio had been broken, and everything inside had been either stolen or vandalized.

              He filed another report with the police department, and they were able to identify the culprit by using security camera footage from a building across the street. One small glimpse was clipped from the footage, to identify Stuart as the man behind the destruction. Constantine felt sick, empty, confused, and frustrated, wondering if there was anything that he could have done differently. He thought back to all of his phone calls, voice mails, text messages, emails, and even handwritten letters, knowing full well that he did all that he could have done to make things right.

              He contacted Stuart’s parents and inquired of his wellbeing, to learn that he had quit his job, sold everything he owned and moved out of state. They confessed that Stuart had slowly been drifting from them as well and they had no idea where he was or how to make contact with him. Determined to make everything right, Constantine hired a private investigator to find his lost, confused, and clearly angry friend. After three months, the investigator contacted Constantine and reported that Stuart now lived alone in a single wide mobile home in a tiny town just across the border in the next state over.

              He provided photos, online activity, and records of his daily activity, all revealing an angry and empty shell of man that Constantine no longer recognized. He vacillated between simply letting it go and allowing his friend to destroy himself, or to make short trip and visit him, to try to find logic or reason for the sudden, drastic, and bizarre change of events. He opted for the latter and discreetly arrived at the small town, to find Stuart spending every evening with the less than ideal locals at a small tavern, drinking his once brilliant and articulate mind into a maelstrom of distraction and anger.

              Refusing to simply let it go, he followed Stuart home one evening, well after two in the morning and waited for him to emerge from his single wide. The two engaged in conversation and Constantine told Stuart that he forgave him for all that he had done and hoped that he could help him return to his former self and return to his friends, family, and loved ones. He could see the struggle and confusion in Stuart’s eyes, hoping that he would positively respond and once again become the good, kind, loving person that he used to be.

              Three more months passed, and he saw no sign of his friend, which forced him to struggle between taking a next step or to simply letting go, hating the idea of Stuart being lost to his anger, his frustration, his despair, and his newfound love of alcohol and shameless women. He knew that he had put in as much effort as was reasonable, so decided to focus on loving his wife, caring for his parents, and creating art that was fed and formed by the plusses and minuses of his friendship with Stuart.