A Pact For Life (17 page)

Cale looked down at the ground and said, “It's alright, I pretty much picked up a new identity when I left. New phone, new email, that sort of thing. I was gonna shave my head but decided that might be taking it a little too far.”

“Why did you leave, Cale?” Lindsay asked as this conversation began to veer into serious territory.

Cale had never told anyone why he left DC. He didn't even think he could pinpoint the answer down, but yet he tried. “I guess I left because I wanted a new start. Outside of the sculptures, everything I touched was ruined.

“I hadn't planned on going to Denver. My original goal was actually San Francisco, but my car broke down on the side of the road in west Kansas, and I ended up catching a ride to Denver. I don't know how to explain it, but the city just clicked with me. It felt right.”

Cale took a deep breath and decided that answer was about as close to the truth as he could manage. “Alright Linds, give it to me straight, how is everyone else?”

“Hmm, let me think... Trent and Rachel
¹⁶
are married and just had a baby. Jason and Marnie
¹⁷
are married and have twins. Brad and Brittney
¹⁸
recently got divorced, they had no kids. Mark finally came out and is dating a pianist.”

“Well that joke pretty much writes itself. It's about time he came out. Remember how he used to salivate in front of the cucumbers at the farmer's market?”

“Oh, stop that.” Lindsay giggled and hit him on the shoulder. “So my kids are gonna start fighting if I don't bring them food very soon. That's a little parenting trick I've picked up. Would you like to join us?”

“Actually I just stopped in to surprise you.” This was a horrible lie and both of them knew it. “I have to go meet my dad.”

“Well how long are you in town for? You should come over for dinner one night. Everyone would love to see you.”

Pulling out his cell phone, Cale said, “That would be great, I'll give you a call sometime today or tomorrow. What's your number.”

He entered her number and placed the phone back in his pocket. Taking one last look at the responsible, adult Lindsay, he said, “I'll see you later, Linds.” and gave her a hug. On the way out the door, he waved at young Emily which made her turn around quickly in embarrassment, and gave one more goodbye to Lindsay. They both knew they would never see each other again.

From Donald Dawkins' penthouse condominium, Cale stared out at Christmas lights running up and down each street creating red and green landing strips. This duality of colors was a trend that extended to his father's condo, except the colors were brown and white. It was a state of the art condo filled with pristine furniture from the 60's. Brown lounge chairs and sofa, white walls, oak encased record player console with snowy speakers, dark parquet floor, frosted cocktail glasses.

Cale hadn't told his father he was there since the odds were his father wasn't even in DC. It had been two hours since he arrived at the condo, and still no sign of Donald. With a job that consisted of reporting on the president and a desire to travel the world, Donald's condo was nothing more than a typically vacant hotel room.

In the two hours he'd been there, Cale spent the bulk of the time thinking about his old friends. He wondered if he would've been married to Lindsay, Rachel, Marnie, or Brittney if he had been more serious about dating. He wondered if Jonathon, Trent, Jason, or Brad would still be his friends, rather than avoid him out of awkwardness that they had sex with the same girls. He still had Brian and Nick back in Denver, but he was in a mood to glorify the past at the expense of the present.

From the hallway, Cale heard a woman's laughter grow louder. This was followed by a beep at the door and it sliding open. “My dear, I feel honored just to be in your incandescent company.” Donald and a woman who was obviously a model around Cale's age walked in. He wasn't surprised to find Cale sitting down, but said as if he was expecting him, “Sonny boy! What's going on?”

“Hey Dad, I'm sorry, I should've told you I was coming.”

“Oh stop, this is just as much your home as it is mine.” Donald turned toward his date and said, “Ilyana, this strapping young man you see in front of you is my greatest achievement, my son Cale.”

The beautiful woman offered a soft, “Hello,” which Cale reciprocated.

Donald walked over to a bar, and said while he fixed two drinks, “Ilyana, there are not enough apologies in the world for this, but I'm afraid we'll have to call it a night. My car service will drive you anywhere you would like to go, but sadly, I cannot follow.”

Ilyana understood, but Cale didn't. His father was never one to cut short a date solely because of him. Donald walked her to the door, kissed her on the hand, bowed, and said, “Ya provozhu vsyu zhizn' ishchet slova, chtoby pravil'no opisat' krasotu.”
¹⁹

The second the door closed, Donald walked back to the bar, picked up two glasses filled to the brim with a cloudy white drink, handed one to Cale, and asked, “So what's wrong, Cale?”

“How do you know something is wrong?”

“C'mon, look at who you're talking to.”

“I fucked up.”

Donald took a long pull from his glass, cycling through the myriad of ways Cale could have fucked up before deciding on, “With Diana?”

“With Diana. With the baby. Fuck, with my entire life.”

“It can't be that bad.”

“I couldn't handle the pressure, Dad. I told Diana we should give the baby up for adoption and it led to this huge fight. I boxed myself into a corner, and then walked out on her. She sent me a text earlier today that she's getting an abortion.”

“What are you thinking about doing?”

“Right now? Nothing.”

“Good. It's her choice whether or not to keep this baby. Even if you did have a role in this, it's Diana's decision.”

This advice was hard to swallow, but Cale trusted his father's opinion. He took a sip of his gin, swished it around his mouth, and down it went. If Diana wanted to get an abortion, he wouldn't stop her.

Donald continued, “Now, with that out of the way, I have something else to tell you. As your father, I'm ordering you not to let Diana get away. I don't care how much she hates you or what you have to do to get her back, just make sure you do it. Remember, there is nothing better in the world than a confident, powerful woman. You'll hate yourself forever if you lose her.”

“There is no chance of us getting back together.”

Donald stood up and began to prepare another drink for himself, “That's nonsense, you're just at odds with the world right now. It's skewing the way you think. How about we go to the National Gallery of Art tomorrow and look for a way to get your life back in order?”

“Well sonny boy, what do you think of this piece?”

Cale stared at the painting of a marsh underneath thousands of stars for less than a second and said, “Nice Unless You Are There.”

“You always give too literal of answers. How about, No More Clocks?”

“I'll give you that one, Dad.” Cale admitted.

This had been their game for as long as they've been coming to galleries. Give every piece a title and decide whose is better.

They moved on to a large sculpture of a beautiful woman sitting alone at a section of a bar with a glass of wine. Donald said, “I won't give a title to this one, the one you already gave it is perfect.”

Cale looked up at the woman's face and whispered to himself, “American Mary.”

Donald walked around it and said, “This is my favorite piece of yours. You really know how to create a beautiful woman.”

This had been one of Cale's favorite pieces as well, but after running into Lindsay, the model for the piece, it had dropped out of his top ten.

“Donald, you old ink hound.” A neatly dressed man called as he walked across the room.

“Robert, what a pleasure!” Donald responded, meeting the man halfway.

Cale left Donald with his friend and found another piece of his,
Sentimental Man
. This sculpture featured a long haired man walking in the opposite direction of several men and women. They all were staring up at the sky, but he was longingly looking at each person depending upon which angle the sculpture was viewed.

The sight of the sculpture brought him back to the moment of its creation. A frantic series of weeks where he was constantly covered in dust, sand, and pebbles from his hard work. Even by Cale's high standards, he loved the piece, and now he couldn't even do something 1/1,000,000
as good. And that's not hyperbole. He truly felt this way.

For one reason or another, the loss of his talent and the loss of his DC friends seemed to coincide, as if one was dependent on the other.

He came upon a third piece of his,
Green Gloves
. It featured a boy grabbing the back of the collar of another, unseen person. He had intended for the boy to look angry while grabbing, but what Cale saw on the boy's face was fear. It screamed, “Don't leave me!”

The sculpture made him realize what all his sculptures had in common. Being alone, or to put it better, a fear of loss. Without the fear of loss, his creativity would never return. The only way he would ever be able to create art again, would be to have something in his life he feared losing.

Face to face with the stone boy, Cale was convinced to change. It was time he grew up and got his life back – Diana, their child, his talent. He was determined to put everything he had into his family. No more drinking, drugs, late nights, or mornings curled up on the bathroom floor.

By that point, Donald had amassed a small crowd and was making the museum tour guides envious. Cale slid next to him and said, “Dad, I'm ready to go back home now.”

It was Diana's first day back at work, and God almighty was it frustrating. The abortion was scheduled for the next day, the earliest she could get in to get 'it' out.

She clicked the mouse icon on the print command for the eighth time in the past fifteen minutes. Every time she printed, some new mistake would make itself apparent. A typo, missing letterhead, address, date, you name it. If it failed to print correctly one more time, the printer was being thrown out the window.