Memento Mural

All of his life he’d been different.

Not in size or stature, or in the thoughts that roamed through his head. There was no disability that altered his behaviour. He just wasn’t like the other boys around him and for some reason that was shameful.

Each day, growing up in the house that he did, his mother would chastise him. The pants he wanted to wear were too tight, the pink shirt he liked was too “loud”, and anything that might have interested him in terms of media or hobbies were “too feminine”. Instead, she wanted him to play a sport, to throw himself into religion, to do something that would have made his father proud.

Because that was a fair assessment to throw at a young man. His father had died only a few years after he’d been born and the man she’d remarried was a different man himself. He was strict, extremely religious (to the level of fanaticism), and intolerant to not having things done his way. For the longest time, it was just words that were damaging, much like his mother’s, and later it became something else.

Everyday he would go to school and the bullies would come out. It wasn’t always a physical assault, their words could be equally as damaging. There were days where he contemplated just running away, and even times where he considered other alternatives, but could never find the will to do it. Then he would get home and the very same thing would swallow him in. On the nights when the damage became more than words he would flee. . .

It felt so good to just run into the night and most of the time he wished he could disappear into the stars that hovered above in the bejeweled sky.

A familiar vision of blue lights always brought him back from his dreams in the stars and led him back to where he started. All of the words, barraging, and self-hatred came naturally after a while that it seemed to be all that existed.

Until he found it. Old Man Jenkins farm on the outskirts of town, the property had been seized and put up for sale after the old man’s death. He had no family, and lived alone. The property had sat for as long as he could remember and while he didn’t make breaking and entering a habit, he did put his delinquent skills to the test and snuck into the barn behind the house.

It felt entirely strange how peaceful he found the atmosphere there. He'd made himself a make-shift cot, grabbed an old blanket from home, and suddenly, he had a place to disappear when it all became too much.

Days flew by and he found himself avoiding home more and more. Anytime he could get away he would. This place had become his sanctuary and it felt more like his personal space than anything he’d ever had in his life. He’d gone to thrift stores and found some old paint, he’d gathered some fabrics and created make-shift curtains to hang and before long the entire dwelling had become his own little hide away.

His personal paradise seemed otherworldly and perfect until the night she’d move in. He’d been hearing rumors that someone had bought the property, but he’d never believed it until she actually showed up. A middle-aged woman who wore her worry on her face and along with her came an older woman and a small child.

The first time they’d met she was aiming the barrel of a shotgun at his face, he’d been changing his shirt as he threw his hands into the air. She told him she would call the police and immediately he’d plead for her not to. It only meant worse for him if he returned home at this point and, obviously, he didn’t want to go to jail either. Something made her halt after he stepped into the light, however, and as he explained his situation to her the barrel of the gun began to lower.

Eventually, he was helping her work around the farm, having to earn his keep for his place to stay. At Any given time, he half expected her to kick him out or to bark rules in his direction, but instead all she wanted was for him to help around the house, fix up the barn, and before he knew it he lived there.

It felt like a dream to have a home that actually belonged to him, a place where he could indulge in what he liked, express his creativity, not be told what to do, or who to be for that matter. Over time, they became close as well. They would spend their nights sitting on the porch enjoying exotic teas and pastries he’d never even heard of. He would listen to her stories about where she used to live in New York City, and how no one really cared if you were one way or the other. He wondered what it would be like to live in such a place where appearances didn’t really matter all that much.

When the rainy season came, he learned that she was afraid of the rain. She said that everything bad that ever happened in her life always occurred when it rained. He never really associated the bad things that happened to him with anything, earnestly, he just assumed that was life and it had to be dealt with.

It wasn’t until she found him with another companion that he truly knew her feelings towards him. It was someone he’d known for a long time and, truthfully, everyone had always told them both just how wrong loving one another was. Instead, she simply left them be and when he approached her that night, she wrapped her arms around him tightly and said, “I just hope he makes you happy.”

As they sat together, looking out to the stars, he couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down his face. With her, there was pure and total acceptance. Something he’d never really had in his life.

“I want to tell you something.” She said, as she looked to those same stars he used to idolize and then turned in his direction. “There is nothing more freeing than living your truth, and no matter what anyone else has to say. . . this is beautiful.”

There weren’t words to really express how happy that made him feel as she wished him goodnight. For the first time in his life the tears he cried were happy ones.

As every story goes though, all good things come to an end. It just so happened to be raining the day his mother and her husband came. She was dressed in her Sunday best, marching up the hillside with the sheriff and the deputy.

“I want you home!” She’d stated, and he instantly turned to look back at where he’d been staying.

“I am.” He said, slowly, backing towards the barn. He’d taken the time to paint a mural inside of everything he loved In life. There were cascades of color and rainbow strides, along with a picture of a boy with golden tears falling from his eyes, a caricature of a swan flying into the sky and a pair of palms lifting a butterfly. Hundreds of small little pieces, all collaborating together. He couldn’t help but think of this, as the sheriff stepped in his direction and told him he had to come with them.

He felt like he soared as he ran in the opposite direction, towards the barn, then out the other side as he fled into the field that surrounded the land. It felt like he was a kid again, fleeing into the night from the hands of that man. He could hear them all screaming at him, but he swore to himself that he would never be caged again.

So he ran and ran and ran some more. It felt as if his feet couldn’t carry him fast enough, the thought of having to go back to that awful house crept into his mind. He had been so happy in the barn, with his freedom, so loved and accepted for being just who he was.

He couldn’t imagine . . .

WHUMP!

Suddenly, everything halted as that freedom he felt dissipated from his reigns. His body ricocheted towards the earth and everything that he craved seemed to cascade into a world of darkness and just like that, it was gone.

The darkness only lasted so long when he came to. Sitting at the end of the bed were his mother, his step father, and the woman he’d come to know. They had been arguing, he could tell, it looked as if they were at a standstill momentarily while he stared at them.

“This is your fault!” He heard his mother say, pointing to the woman who had cared so deeply for him over the past few months.

“You’ve been allowing him to live in his den, and stray away from what he knows to be good and true!” She was raging, it was the most emotion he’d ever seen from her. “I just wanted my son home!” She screamed.

Suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore. He used all of the power in his lungs then, but nothing came out. It took several moments before he realized that no matter what he did, whether he screamed or yelled, it was of no use. He was trapped here just staring at the two of them arguing.

Then it was as if time transfixed itself, and he was floating by and by, the next thing he saw was the two of them together again, staring at the mural he’d made. His mother cried as she looked at the artwork and design he’d created. Her tears were of sadness and grief and it wasn’t something he’d expected, given all of the time she had been spent telling him how he should be.

In the next passage he saw make-up covering her face, something she’d hardly ever worn and the woman who’d taken him in, standing by her, their relationship had changed. They were working together to create something and as he watched from the sidelines he saw the ranch he knew and loved begin to change.

People from all walks of life, who had been like him, came to stay there. The barn he loved so much changed into a bunk house with several rooms just like the one he’d designed for himself.

Then, as if he’d seen it all, he saw his mother standing at the end of the drive hanging the sign that welcomed them all.

“In loving memory of my son.” She stated as the ranch came to life, his mural was showcased as a highlight.

In the final passage he saw, before he drifted to his freedom in the bejeweled sky, was his mother leaving the man who made his life a nightmare, and on her way out she slammed a bat against the bumper of the car that had taken his life.

He couldn’t help the smile that was on his face, until he turned to see him. The man he’d only seen before in pictures and dreams. . . his father.

Happy tears flooded his face as they joined together to walk into the light.

All his life he’d been different and that would never be shameful again.