Hidden Talent

Sheryl sat on the park bench doing her favorite activity, people watching. She smiled as two people held a child’s hand and swung her as they walked through the green grass. She watched as the couple laying on a picnic blanket laughed at something the other had said. The jogger who stopped to lean against the tree and take a swig of water from his bottle that had condensation dripping from the outside of it.

Opening up her black notebook she started writing short stories about what she thought their lives were like. The parents taking their kid out for the first time since the pandemic happened, the couple on a first date playfully asking 21 questions to get to know each other, and the jogger using the run to help ease the anxiety as he’s preparing to propose to a long-term girlfriend.

“Is this seat taken?” A deep baritone voice asked pulling Sheryl from the focus of her notebook.

She shook her head slowly before going back to her scribbling. Only now she was acutely aware of him pulling out a sketchbook. Glancing over at him, she watched as he started to draw the same muses she was using for her inspiration. He looked over at her and smiled causing her to quickly look back down at her own notebook in her lap.

“I love people watching. I find my best work is done by watching people in their natural element. I can really show the emotions on my canvas when they are real and not posed.”

He continued to draw the couple on the picnic blanket and Sheryl couldn’t help as she watched the black pencil quickly move across what was once a blank page. He captured the woman perched on her elbow looking down at the man with a playful smile on her face. The man had his hands resting behind his head looking up at her like she hung the moon just for him. Just like that he changed the narrative in her head.

In her head they weren’t on a first date now they were married and celebrating their fifth anniversary. Flipping to a new page in her notebook she began writing the story from the perspective of his picture. He captured emotions that she wasn’t able to see from her angle. It was almost like he’d given her a sneak peek into their lives, and she loved how much better her story came out with the new point of view.

She stole another peek at him as he finished his drawing and held it out leaning towards her a bit as if to show off his work. Ripping it out of his notebook he stood setting the book down and walked over to the couple. The man sat up quickly as he handed the picture to them smiling warmly at the couple. They laughed looking at each other with same loving eyes before shaking the artists hand happily.

Sheryl looked back into her notebook as he made his way back to the bench still smiling warmly. She found herself looking forward to what he would capture next. He sat down opened his notebook again and looked around the park.

“So how about we collab the next one. You pick, I draw, and you write?” He smiled happily.

Sheryl was worried and excited at the same time. She wanted to continue looking at things through his lens, but she was nervous about sharing her work. Pushing her anxiety to the side she looked around the park to find their new muse. She smiled as she settled on Greg. He was a regular homeless man who walked around the park picking up trash and collecting plastic bottles. Once he was done, he’d usually sit next to her and they’d talk about what their futures looked like before calling it a night.

“Okay, I like Greg. I have to admit I’ve drawn him a few times, so I somewhat have an advantage.” He winked at her before turning to tilt his head to the side as he focused on Greg before putting the black pencil to the blank page once again.

She watched seeing what emotion he would depict this time. Greg was usually to himself and didn’t bother anyone. Unlike the other homeless in the area, he cleaned his self-up as much as possible and didn’t talk to his self or make anyone uncomfortable. He was a really good guy who was just handed a bad hand at life.

“My names Tim by the way. I’ve been out here before. I want to just be completely transparent and say that I’ve seen you and Greg sit on this bench plenty of times and it always intrigued me. You always laugh and talk to each other but alone you’re each so focused on your own tasks at hand. Your writing and Greg’s trash pick-up.”

“Sheryl”

He smiled nodding before going back to his drawing.

She started writing Greg a better story. Instead of going off of what she was seeing of him now, she wrote based on the many conversations that they’d had together. She wrote about him accomplishing his dreams of opening a recycle business to reduce the carbon footprint and about how he finally invents something that could change the world.

She didn’t realize how invested she was into her story until she looked up to see that Greg was long gone and Tim was now sitting in the grass in front of her with his brows furrowed as he drew her. She stood quickly clutching her notebook to her chest.

“Don’t worry, you’re a masterpiece when you’re so in tune with your work” he said still sketching away on the canvas.

“Okay I’ll show you both if you let me read what you’ve written” he added finally looking up at her.

Sheryl clutched her notebook tighter now wanting desperately to see how he’d drew her. She wanted to know if he was able to broadcast her emotions the same way he’d done the couple. She was worried that he might have seen right through her shell but also excited to see how she looked through his lens.

Slowly peeling the notebook from her chest, she handed it to him, and he pushed his sketchbook into her hands. Greg’s photo captured her attention first. Instead of the torn sweats and holey shirt that he usually wears he drew him in nice, creased slacks, and a long sleeve shirt. He’s sitting on a huge pile of trash with a smile on his face as he watches the children at the park playing. He captured Greg’s dream the same way that she did.

When she flipped the page, she gasped in surprise. She isn’t sitting on a bench in the same clothes that she’d had on for the last week. Her hair wasn’t dirty and matted nor was her skin dusted with smudges of dirt or grime. She was sitting on the bench and her clothes were made out of what looked like pages out of a notebook. She was smiling as she looked down writing the stories that she wished would come true in the world.

The hole that was currently in her jeans looked more stylish in his picture. Her hair, while still in the messy bun that she usually wore it in was sitting a top her head in a way that made her picture self-look beautiful.

“This is wonderful. Its amazing how much you’ve captured in such short time” Tim whispered as he continued reading through her journal. She was no longer worried about what he’d think of her work as she admired his.

“Can I turn?” She asked holding up his sketch book.

“knock yourself out. Can I turn?” He asked without looking up at her.

“Mhm” she mumbled already drawn into his other work.

They both sat in silence ignoring the world around them as they respected and admired each other’s work, artist to artist.

Tim’s heart grew in his chest as he realized how much talent the young writer in front of him had. With a stroke of a pen, she changed people’s narrative. He was so shocked at how much positivity and lightheartedness showed up in her work regardless of her status in life at the moment.

Sneaking a glance up he watched as her face filled with wonder each time, she turned the page. He was used to people loving or commenting on his work, but it seemed unreal for someone to not know who he was and genuinely respect his craft. Not because of his status but because of his talent.

“Tell you what.” He stood from the ground dusting off his black slacks. She looked up at him waiting for his response.

“I would like to pay you to post your photo’s in my art gallery.” He said sitting back next to her on the bench. She looked at him skeptically as he pulled out his check book and started writing.

“Well, it won’t be just you, Greg will be getting paid as well.” He explained seriously.

She didn’t know how to take it until he handed her the check for ten thousand dollars. Her heart felt as if it had stopped beating for a moment and she was trying to keep up with the whirl wind of emotions that were coursing through her all at once. There was so much she wanted to say so many questions she wanted to ask but over all she was only able to get out one word.

“Why?”

“Because people like you and Greg are overlooked every day. Your talent limited to park benches and community centers. Understand that I will make a fortune off of the work just because it carries my name alone. You two deserve it.”

“I don’t know what to do with this I don’t know what to say” She whispered staring at the check in disbelief.

“How long have you been homeless Sheryl?”

“A year” her voice cracked as she spoke.

“Well, consider that payment for the photos that I’m going to place in my gallery and consider this one as my investment into your future.”

He handed her another ten-thousand-dollar check before going into his wallet to pull out a card.

“This number will get you to my assistant. Tell her your name and when you’re ready she can get you and your friend Greg into your own studio apartments that we own. If you want to pursue a future in writing I can get you in front of some publishers. Its all up to you. No matter what you decide the money is yours”

Sheryl took the card from him and her eyes widened in recognition.

“You’re Timothy Stanley THE artist!”

“I’m a friend that would like to invest in your future no strings attached” he answered gathering his stuff and walking away.

Sheryl sat on that bench for hours trying to figure out what she should do. Once Greg came to sit next to her with a check of his own and an opportunity to meet with an environmental committee to find a job position, their minds were made up.

They walked around the park for hours before they found enough change to use the payphone. After calling the number, they were picked up and immediately from that night on their lives changed.

. . .

Sheryl walked up to the bench next to a homeless teen who was using a small piece of charcoal to draw on a broken-down cardboard box.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked smiling warmly.

The teen looked up at the well-dressed woman skeptically before shrugging and going back to her drawing.

Taking out her notebook Sheryl began to tell a story based off the young lady’s sketch.