Stay
A Different Tradition
I waited outside of Henry's class room waiting for the class to end. The room I was in had easels with art work on them, obviously done by the college students. There was a big window in the side of the room serving as a wall between the room I was in and Henry's class room allowing me to look inside. There was a stage and in front of it there were roughly one-hundred seats filled with college students. My eyes surveyed the crowed looking for Henry. I thought that because of what he had told me the day before he wouldn't go to class trying to avoid help. Just before I was done looking for him thinking he had skipped class I found him sitting in the last row.
He was wearing the same paint covered pants and black button-up shirt he had been wearing for God knows how long. Henry stared at the professor's slide blankly. At the moment the slide was on a painting of a matador on the ground dead with a puddle of blood surrounding his head like a halo. I looked back at Henry's seat, but he wasn't there. Not to long after I hear a door shut and out came Henry. He stared at me hard for a second before coming any further to me. "I didn't expect you to come to class after what you had told me." I said disturbing the silence.
"There's nowhere else for me to go." He shrugged. We started to walk, our shoes clacking against the white marble floor.
"Are any of these yours?" I said gesturing to the pieces of art around us.
"Ouch." he smirked. I looked at him confused, then at the art. there seemed to be nothing wrong with what I had said.
"What?"
"Well, these are bad, Sam." He replied matter-of-factly. The rest of the students came hoarding out of the door Henry had come out of not too long ago. "Do you know the Tristan Reveur quote about bad art?" I could barley hear him over the conversational buzz of the college students. I shook my head, "' Bad art is more tragically beautiful than good art because it documents human failure." We stopped walking so Henry could get a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket.
The room we were in now in an entirely white marble room with columns every ten feet. Henry lit his cigarette. It struck me as odd that he was smoking inside the building. "Why do you wanna do it on Saturday?" I asked after he took a drag. He paused before answering.
"'Cause it's my twenty-first birthday." he said cooly. Starting to walk again. I followed
"Isn't the tradition to get drunk?" I laughed a little bit.
"I'm interested in starting a new tradition. Some artist did the same thing." He took another drag.
"Yeah? What happened to him?"
"He died." He said, we both knew it was a stupid question.
"What about your parents, don't you think they would care?" This stopped Henry. He turned to me with his eyes filled with pain and his eyes furrowed. He shook his head.
"No."
"Why?" I asked intrigued. I wondered whose parents wouldn't care about their child's death. "Do they live near-by?"I continued. Henry nodded.
"Yeah, they live in Malhus Gardens." He said his eyes tearing, but his voice was still calm.
"Where's that?" I asked.
"It's a cemetery." He replied in the same calm voice. I was taken aback. I wondered why this wasn't in his files.
"Sorry, I didn't know." I apologized.
"I thought you read the files." He said starting to walk away. I followed.
"I-I did. It didn't say." I said trying to keep up with is quickening pace. "Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked. I had to find a reason to make him change his mind about the mistake he was going to make.
"You talk to her?" He said stopping to lighting another cigarette.
"No, who is she?" I said excited thinking we were going to have a breakthrough. He started to walk again. I followed.
"Eh. She filled my cup of coffee at this diner. She'd ask me how my day was." He said waving his cigarette around," I was gonna marry her. I got her a ring that looked a lot like the one you got your girl." He said turning to me. I stared at him wide eyed. How did he know about my ring? "Anyway... She's gone now." He said facing away from me taking another drag.
"Gone? Are you sure she didn't go somewhere else?" I asked wanting to know what he meant by "gone."
"There is no somewhere else. . ." He replied blankly. I stopped following him and he left.
***
At an aquarium. Henry is staring at the manatees. The room had a blue hint to it. There is an elderly couple standing behind him with a camera. The take a picture of the manatees and Henry looking at them. "He's not gonna make it." The elderly man said to the woman at his side and they left.
He was wearing the same paint covered pants and black button-up shirt he had been wearing for God knows how long. Henry stared at the professor's slide blankly. At the moment the slide was on a painting of a matador on the ground dead with a puddle of blood surrounding his head like a halo. I looked back at Henry's seat, but he wasn't there. Not to long after I hear a door shut and out came Henry. He stared at me hard for a second before coming any further to me. "I didn't expect you to come to class after what you had told me." I said disturbing the silence.
"There's nowhere else for me to go." He shrugged. We started to walk, our shoes clacking against the white marble floor.
"Are any of these yours?" I said gesturing to the pieces of art around us.
"Ouch." he smirked. I looked at him confused, then at the art. there seemed to be nothing wrong with what I had said.
"What?"
"Well, these are bad, Sam." He replied matter-of-factly. The rest of the students came hoarding out of the door Henry had come out of not too long ago. "Do you know the Tristan Reveur quote about bad art?" I could barley hear him over the conversational buzz of the college students. I shook my head, "' Bad art is more tragically beautiful than good art because it documents human failure." We stopped walking so Henry could get a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket.
The room we were in now in an entirely white marble room with columns every ten feet. Henry lit his cigarette. It struck me as odd that he was smoking inside the building. "Why do you wanna do it on Saturday?" I asked after he took a drag. He paused before answering.
"'Cause it's my twenty-first birthday." he said cooly. Starting to walk again. I followed
"Isn't the tradition to get drunk?" I laughed a little bit.
"I'm interested in starting a new tradition. Some artist did the same thing." He took another drag.
"Yeah? What happened to him?"
"He died." He said, we both knew it was a stupid question.
"What about your parents, don't you think they would care?" This stopped Henry. He turned to me with his eyes filled with pain and his eyes furrowed. He shook his head.
"No."
"Why?" I asked intrigued. I wondered whose parents wouldn't care about their child's death. "Do they live near-by?"I continued. Henry nodded.
"Yeah, they live in Malhus Gardens." He said his eyes tearing, but his voice was still calm.
"Where's that?" I asked.
"It's a cemetery." He replied in the same calm voice. I was taken aback. I wondered why this wasn't in his files.
"Sorry, I didn't know." I apologized.
"I thought you read the files." He said starting to walk away. I followed.
"I-I did. It didn't say." I said trying to keep up with is quickening pace. "Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked. I had to find a reason to make him change his mind about the mistake he was going to make.
"You talk to her?" He said stopping to lighting another cigarette.
"No, who is she?" I said excited thinking we were going to have a breakthrough. He started to walk again. I followed.
"Eh. She filled my cup of coffee at this diner. She'd ask me how my day was." He said waving his cigarette around," I was gonna marry her. I got her a ring that looked a lot like the one you got your girl." He said turning to me. I stared at him wide eyed. How did he know about my ring? "Anyway... She's gone now." He said facing away from me taking another drag.
"Gone? Are you sure she didn't go somewhere else?" I asked wanting to know what he meant by "gone."
"There is no somewhere else. . ." He replied blankly. I stopped following him and he left.
***
At an aquarium. Henry is staring at the manatees. The room had a blue hint to it. There is an elderly couple standing behind him with a camera. The take a picture of the manatees and Henry looking at them. "He's not gonna make it." The elderly man said to the woman at his side and they left.