All the Waters of the Earth

Chapter 20: Answer the Question

"But what about your art?" I asked, wanting to know why it was so important to him and why he hid it.

"What about it?" he responded, not meanly, but also not warmly.

"Where does that fit in? In your life, I mean?"

"It doesn't."

That couldn't be true. No one could create beautiful art the way Jake did, have a separate room set up, even in a temporary house, just for it, and not have it be a major part of their life.

"Jake. It does."

He sighed, and was a little grumpy when he spoke. "Here's the deal with my art, or whatever you call it. I've always doodled. I drew as a kid. But after Ethan died, my dad stopped doing art and became a workaholic. He buried himself in his work, and I never saw him. Making a living off of art, in my dad's mind, was equated with him losing my mom to drugs and divorce, and losing my brother. So he freaked out, stopped doing his paintings and his mixed-media, and started being addicted to work."

He got the message that it was not safe for him to be an artist. Not with that background. "So your dad was your role model?"

"Sort of, yeah, I guess. I don't really have a role model in my family. I mean I have no idea how you make it, Lucy, being creative for a living. Writing? Seriously? I don't know how that works. I can't believe that you can do it and make money off of it. I couldn't do it, so I chose the law. Always wanted to be Atticus Finch, I guess."

"Really?"

"Sort of. I liked that movie with Gregory Peck."

"It's a wonderful movie, but the art. I know you still do it, regardless of whether you get paid for it, regardless of whether it makes sense. Right? You have to do it. Right?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I have to do it. I can't stop drawing. I started drawing after Ethan died. I didn't want to forget him. I must have drawn hundreds and hundreds of pictures of my brother, so that I would remember everything about him. The way he put on his shoes. The way he rode his bike. The way he ate spaghetti. But between my dad working, and me working to get out of there, it was never something that I considered doing as a profession. I needed to pay for school, a roof, and food."

I nodded.

"But I had to do it."

"Of course you did. It's a gift and a talent that you have and you have to do it. You have to share it. By not creating what comes easy for you to create, or what you want to create, you deny all of us the chance to see it, and to know that we are understood. To know that there is a connection. It is basic human nature to create."

He looked skeptical.

"I can't live on the streets again," he said. "I have to have money. I have to do something with my time. I can't just be all free and creative. Life doesn't work that way. I have no idea how you did it, but it's not the way it worked for my dad, and it wouldn't work for me."

"You don't know that," I challenged. "It sounds like you haven't tried."

He stared at me. "It isn't worth trying. It's just something that I do to pass the time."

"It's more than that and you know it."

"So what? I'm going to be some sort of slacker artist, who draws all day long and gets nothing done? No thanks. I'll go to my office."

"Do you like your office?"

He paused. "It doesn't matter if I like it or not. It's my life."

"What do you do for fun?"

"I draw. I go for a run. And nowadays I hang out with you or your kid." He smiled an adorable half-smile on the last one, some of the grumpiness from his earlier words subsiding. Oh, I wanted to kiss him.

So I did.

I leaned over and brushed my lips against his, and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me to him. He was so warm and comfortable. I broke apart and snuggled into his chest.

"When is the last time you took a vacation?" I asked.

"What's that?" he answered.

"Jake, no jokes. When is the last time you took a vacation?"

"Does going somewhere for a work conference count?"

I rolled my eyes and looked up at him. "Answer the question."

He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think I've been anywhere since I made partner, and frankly, I don't think I've really ever been on vacation. Other than moving around a lot as a kid, I have never been anywhere just for fun."

Oh my poor guy. "We're going to fix that. For Christmas, I'm giving you a vacation. You and me. We're going away for a weekend. Plan on it. We'll pick a weekend when Rob's dad has him and we'll go."

He smiled, but looked a little worried. "The office will freak."

"Your office will function just fine without you. You're just scared that they will think something got into you if you're not around. But they can handle it just fine."

"That's probably true," he admitted. "But it's going to feel weird to go somewhere."

"That's the point."

He nodded.

"It's also the point to get a really nice hotel room, and make the most of it," I said, and his eyes widened. "Go get tested and I will, too."

"Done," he said.

"I want to invite you inside," I whispered, "but I don't think it's a good idea tonight."

"Probably not. But Rob is with his dad this weekend, right?"

"More like with his grandma, apparently. But yes."

"We'll make up for it then."

After a few more minutes, he kissed me, this time thoroughly, rubbed my cheek with the back of his hand, kissed my nose, and whispered "Good night." And then he hopped over the partition between our patios and went in to sleep.