Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Is that the way it's supposed to be?"

"What do you think?" Charles asked, turning from the mural to Sedgewick.

"I don't know. Does it—does it look right?"

"It's all in the eye of the beholder, a weight for your shoulder."

Sedgewick looked to the ground and bit his lip. He winced. That's what he expected Charles to say. Thursday after the funeral, after the scene with Allison, he stopped by Charles' office near campus, an unexpected visit for sure, and asked if he could work on the mural by himself that afternoon. They made arrangements and Sedgewick spent the rest of that day painting.

Before leaving campus he looked up Allison's dorm room. He found the building and followed another group of students in. He climbed the stairs to her floor and looked both directions down the hall. He chose one hallway and wondered down it looking for her room number. A few students came down the hall, but passed by ignoring him.

Room 229. Here it was. The names Allison and Kallie were written in magic marker on the message board hanging in the middle of the door. Sedgewick swallowed and knocked on the door. He guessed she wouldn't be here, and he honestly hoped she wasn't.

The door opened and Sedgewick took a tentative step back. It was Kallie. She had short blonde hair and a sweet smile. She looked like she'd just been laughing at something. Sedgewick could feel the contrast between his day.

"You must—must be Kallie. I'm—I'm—"

"Sedgewick?" A smile spread across her face. It faded when she saw his swollen lip. He'd washed away the blood, but he couldn't hide everything.

"Yeah."

"What's wrong?"

"I wanted to—to return Allison's keys." He held out the keys and turned to go. He wanted to go. He didn't want to explain.

But then he stopped.

"Allison could use somebody, I think. Maybe not right now, but—but I imagine later today she'll want somebody. Not me, obviously, but…"

"Okay."

"Tell her I'm sorry."

"Sedgewick—" He stopped and turned. "It's not your fault."

He nodded and kept going.

Painting had felt so good. The world seemed to fade away while he created, but it also slipped into sharp focus. Every stroke felt like the most important thing in the world, but when his eyes fell to the blanket of green grass or the wisps of clouds above, he noticed so much more and felt them deep within his soul.

At first it seemed like he was breaking into the church, unlocking the fence and the shed by himself in the quiet mid-day calm of the neighborhood. But soon he was lost in thought and paint, adding to the slate grey river a green bank and pale blue sky.

The afternoon disappeared and Charles walked behind Sedgewick to check in on his progress. Sedgewick was standing there taking it in, unsure of what it was, unsure of if it worked, unsure of himself. That's when he asked if that's the way it was supposed to be.

"I guess I see—I see something there. It's not exactly what I pictured, but it's what I feel. It's about all these hands can create." Sedgewick looked to his hands, which were smeared with a rainbow.

"And that's all it needs to be: all that you can do." Charles put an arm around Sedgewick and the two stood there, taking in the fence and the church's side yard. It was starting to get late, the sun was fading and the unseasonably warm afternoon air was finding its usual crispness. The mural still had a long way to go. There were unfinished stretches here and there, and the entire side along the front hadn't been started. Charles would be working on it for a while, and though Sedgewick didn't know it yet, he would, too. But for now, this one section of river, this one stretch of fence, this opening fumbling chapter in Sedgewick's life—it was finished.

He walked home in silence, the sun setting behind him. The air was colder now, and he pushed his hands deeper into his jacket. He wondered about Allison. Wondered how she was doing in the midst of it all. Today had been hard, a day you wish you could leave behind.

Sedgewick expected to her stay at her place again tonight, expected to sleep in his own bed again. Everything had seemed so extreme, so lofty and soaring, and now it felt like they might actually return to earth. It may have been a day to leave behind, but like every day, it would be one to carry with you forever.

He crossed a street and stepped back on to the sidewalk, noticing a child's chalk drawing. He paused to take it in, a flower in a pot with lots of colorful squiggles all around. Sedgewick looked up the street one direction, and then the other. It was quiet and empty. Despite being a city neighborhood the city side streets managed to stay so quiet, maybe thanks to the towering trees planted a generation ago.

He didn't see the artist, though he did see a name scrawled beneath the sidewalk chalk drawing: Grace. He smiled. It's the name of a girl, but it's a thought that changed the world. It stuck him as an observation Charles might make, or at least someone wiser than him.

He smiled, humbly, at the thought, and stepped into the grass to walk on without stepping on the chalk creation.

That night he sat at the table with his Gram while they ate supper together.

"You seem quiet tonight, more so than usual."

Sedgewick shrugged his shoulders, then realized he was doing it again.

"Sorry, Gram. It's just been—today's been one of a kind."

"A kind you'd rather forget?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"Well, they can't all be sugar and roses. How's Allison doing? Today was the funeral, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was. I just felt—I feltso useless. It was so much easier when it was just—just me and her, throwing rocks."

"And you can't do that in a funeral home, can you?"

"Nope." Sedgewick put his fork down with a sigh. He hadn't eaten much, and there was no point in pushing it around on his plate.

"Oh honey, you know these days will come." She reached across the old, worn table for Sedgewick's hand and he looked into her face, full of love and tenderness and age. He nodded and squeezed her hand.

"But you do know tomorrow can be a new day, a beautiful day?"

"Yeah, I just wish she were here. I wish we could go to Perkins again."

"I know. We wish a lot of things. But we can't spend every day walking on the water." Sedgewick smiled at the image.

"No, I guess we can't. I suppose—I suppose eventually we'd get used to it, and it wouldn't be so—so miraculous."

"No, child, it wouldn’t." She stood up to clear the dishes, but then bent over to give her grandson a hug.

"Thanks, Gram."

From the kitchen sink she looked back to Sedgewick. His eyes were lost in thought, his hand on his chin. His grandmother stood there for a moment and just watched the boy, like she'd done all her life.