Part 2 (1/2)

”Is it all right if I talk some?” I asked feeling fidgety again. ”Or would that mess you up? I can get a little chatty when I'm nervous.”

”Talking's fine by me,” said Jim Ed completing a stroke with a slight slap of his brush against the paper. ”But why in the world would you be nervous? I'm just an old painter.”

”Maybe nervous wasn't the best word choice,” I said. ”It's more like anxious. I've got a lot on my mind and getting my portrait painted at the park today was not something on my 'to do' list.” I gave him a tight smile.

”Some of the best things in life are unplanned,” he said never missing a beat. ”Got to live in the moment.”

”You gotta admit though, it's a little strange.”

Jim Ed blinked innocently. ”I guess it is a bit, as you kids like to say, 'out of the box.' But trust me, Adam. Living 'inside the box' will eventually suffocate a person. I've got to have an outlet of expression.”

”Okay, I get painting, but why stalk down strangers? For all I know you could have had a gun or something. Aren't you worried about how people may perceive you? Why not just paint one of those Hooded Mergansers?”

Jim Ed paused a moment considering my questions. His pause made me regret asking, for he wasn't breaking any speed records for painting. When he talked, his brush slowed almost to a stop. ”Can't let what others think stop me from doing what I'm supposed to be doing,” he said. ”My painting's not about me. I told you it's a gift.” Jim Ed scratched his forehead with the wooden tip of the brush and glanced out over the lake. A crisp breeze raked leaves across the ground and our feet again. ”And I'll tell you something else,” he continued. ”When I'm exercising my gift, I'm filled with peace. You know that feeling you get when you're doing something and while you're doing it calmness just takes you over, like you're feeling G.o.d's pleasure? I feel it right now. Can't explain it very well, but I know that I'm doing right, that I am right where I'm supposed to be. When I paint and do what I do, well, I guess I feel like one of those ducks in the water over there. They don't know why they need to be in it, they just know they're supposed to be, and they're at ease when they are.”

”How come I haven't seen you around here before?”

”Oh, I'm around. The world's a big place. Don't always paint people though, only when I feel directed to them.”

”You felt directed to me?”

”Yes, sir. Sure did. Really it was more like 'sent.'”

”Sent? Oh yeah? Who sent ya?”

”G.o.d.”

c.r.a.p. My stomach clenched and those angry, anxious feelings burst right back to the surface. I punched myself in the thigh with my fist for being such a sucker. I knew it! This guy's looney! Suffering from dementia or something. Escaped from a home. They're probably looking for him right now! I jumped to my feet and made a move toward the trail. ”That's it,” I shouted over my shoulder. ”I've got to go! See ya later, man!”

Jim Ed dropped his brush and jerked his body upright. ”Adam!” he thundered once again, this time louder with even more authority than before. ”Look at me!”

I kept on walking. ”I go to church, man!” I blasted. ”I've heard enough preaching to last me three lifetimes! I don't have time for this nonsense!”

”You think this is about church?” Jim Ed shouted. ”This is about saving your marriage and your son! It's about saving your life! Becoming the man you were created to be!”

For the second time that day, I stopped dead in my tracks. ”My marriage?” I whispered to myself. ”My son? ...How'd he know?” I had covered the screen carefully. There's no way he saw anything. Fear of losing my family gripped me. My legs wobbled and tears began to pressure the back of my eyes. ”Who are you?” I asked, now facing him. ”What is this?”

An inviting warmness bathed Jim Ed's face. ”Just let me finish the painting,” he said with empathy in his voice, peace exuding from his very essence. ”This is right where you need to be.”

6.

We sat in silence for some time as Jim Ed poured himself into his masterpiece. Some children were playing soccer in an open field across the trail. While mindlessly watching them run back and forth, I replayed my argument with Paige. ”It wasn't supposed to be like this! I can't take this anymore! Something's got to change Adam.”

”Change! ...Oh, you mean me, right? I've got to change?”

Pain jabbed my gut. ”I've had enough. I want out. I've got to get out.” Surely she couldn't mean it? After all these years? After all we'd been through? My heart rate became rapid. Panic seized me again and I panted for breath.

”You idiot,” the voice in my head was back, a.s.saulting, accusing, mocking. ”You blew it. It's over. Paige doesn't care enough about you to even stay and fight. Why should she? You're a loser. Who'd want to fight for you? She's gonna have men lining up. Wait and see. Someone who can give her a real life. And don't forget your boy. He's so ending up in jail. Rehab time! It's gonna cost you big too. He's flus.h.i.+ng his future down the toilet. Maybe he'll move in with his mother? Well, at least you have your work. That's what you're married to anyway.” With a clenched jaw, I ground my teeth. My dentist was going to have a heyday. ”And what are you doing wasting time sitting here with this old clown? He's crazy you know.”

”Shut...up,” I ordered under my breath.

Never looking up, Jim Ed dabbed his brush in the gla.s.s of water, touched it on the palette, and then brought it back to the paper. It was as if he'd been waiting, calculating how long to let me wrestle with my thoughts. ”Want to talk about it?” he finally probed.

I turned my gaze from the kids playing soccer to Jim Ed. Unlike with Eric, I felt I could let my guard down. ”It's been a pretty rough day,” I sighed, ”year really.” My eyes wandered to the lake's edge where the Hooded Mergansers were splas.h.i.+ng around doing what ducks do. Smaller than regular ducks, their s.h.i.+mmering black wings had long white stripes running from neck to tail and the males had black heads crowned with white crests and flaming orange eyes. Jim Ed said it looked like they were wearing hoods. I thought it looked more like Mohawks. Exquisitely and flawlessly designed, the Hooded Mergansers glided through the water with grace and ease like they understood they were exactly where they were supposed to be, doing exactly what they were created to do. What was I created to do?

”You're right,” I said. ”They are remarkable creatures. I've been to this park dozens of times and never even gave them a second glance. I tell you what though-” I paused to consider whether to continue.

Jim Ed placed his brush down again so he could fully absorb my words. ”Go ahead,” he encouraged.

I ran my hand through my hair nervously. ”All right,” I said. ”But this is weird. I've never talked to anyone like this. Not even my own father, not that he would have been interested.”

”Sometimes it's easier to open up to an outsider.” At that moment a ding came up on Jim Ed's Blackberry indicating a message. ”Excuse me a sec,” he said twisting his body around to pick up his cell from his cart. After reviewing the message he held it out toward me. ”Here, it's for you.”

I grabbed it and read the text.

”Who is this!?” Paige had sent. Then it occurred to me that I had not identified myself in my text and Paige had never seen Jim Ed's number. Again, I felt stupid. That was par for the course.

”Paige, this is Adam,” I typed back. ”I left my cell at home so I used a friend's. I needed to tell you how bad I feel. I didn't mean it. Maybe we could go out to dinner tonight?” I knew it was a long shot, but I was grasping at straws. I pushed Send and held the phone in my hand, waiting while Jim Ed continued painting. After a while it was obvious Paige wasn't going to reply, so I handed it back to him.

He took the phone out of my hand with a sympathetic look and placed it back in the cart. ”You were saying?”

A huge white goose wobbled up to the bench honking. It was loud and annoying. ”Get!” I shouted, shooing it with my hands. ”Get out of here!” It stuck its long neck and beak in the air as if saying, ”Well, I never!” and then wandered off.

”Adam, you were saying?”

My head dropped. ”I don't know now.”

”It's okay. I'm safe.”

I locked my hands behind my head and leaned back. ”I was about to say that I don't feel at peace like you or those ducks out there. I certainly don't feel G.o.d's pleasure, if such a thing even exists.”

”Trust me, it exists,” said Jim Ed.

”I tell you what I do feel. I feel stress! Yeah, that's what I feel, stress...and anger...and guilt...and disappointment. I could go on and on. You got a notebook and pen on you? I'll fill it up!” An emotional dam was breaking inside me and all this stuff was spilling out. ”I'm drained, dried up, and burnt out...and I'm unhappy, Jim Ed! I can't remember the last time I actually enjoyed life. I deal with pressures all day long and demanding clients. I'm on the road way too much. If I see another airport I'm going to croak! When I finally get home I'm worn out and on edge. But here's the funny thing; Paige and my communication is actually better when I'm away!

”Now she's thinking about leaving me. May have already left. And our son's an addict. We're watching him flush his future down the toilet! I don't know what to do. I didn't sign up for this! How'd my life turn out like this? I'm ashamed to say this, but there have been days when I feel so beat up I've considered ending it all. This very morning, right when you walked up, I was fantasizing about leaving everything-just walking away or maybe going to sleep and never waking up. There's no contentment in my life, none. And peace? I don't even know what that means at this point. I'm numb Jim Ed, just plain numb.”

Jim Ed chewed on my words carefully before finally responding. ”Numbness can be the greatest predator,” he said. ”You're in a war whether you realize it or not. Denying it or going numb as you say causes you to lose your pa.s.sion for life. G.o.d gave you emotions for a reason. Sometimes you got to get scared enough or angry enough to fight. Filling your life with subst.i.tutes just anesthetizes the hole inside you. It's the enemy's way of keeping you disengaged and keeping you from fighting for what's important.”

”I told you I'm tired of fighting,” I said. ”It seems the more I fight, the worse things get. It's like I'm in quicksand. The more I struggle to get ahead, the further behind I get. I'm done fighting. Paige doesn't understand.”

Jim Ed got very still, thinking. A group of college-age girls power walked by, laughing and talking loudly. He let them pa.s.s before he opened his mouth. ”Sounds to me like you've got to get yourself a new pair of eyes,” he said. ”Change the way you're seeing.”