The phone rings. High, loud, piercing. The night squirms around the sound, pushing back, pulsing, but the dark is still there, if only barely. Hand fumbles for the receiver. Other hand brushes tangled locks of hair from dulled eyes. “Hello?” Zane’s voice is thick and slurred. It’s only 2:45. Most people are asleep right now. Or should be. “Yeah? Who is this?” Quick temper flares, sparking even through the apathy of a dreamless sleep.
A crackle on the opposing end of the line. Zane can hear the excitement hanging in the air there. All, in dizzying contrast, is quiet in his small room. “Hey, boy!” Loud shouts through the wire. Zane jumps. He curses. “Alejandra? What’s the big deal? I don’t have time for this kind of s-”
“Hold up, man, listen! Ohan’s had a brainstorm!”
“Too early for this…” Zane murmurs through dry lips, needing sleep.
“No, no, hold on, seriously, you’ll thank me later!”
Sarcasm is stirred. Step on one creaky floor board, that’s all it takes. “Doubt it.”
More noise on the phone. Zane, shifting his legs, watches wet papers drift lazily to the floor. They were sleeping, too. The people in the television are still acting, their mouths moving with no sound. Muted, while the radio sits on a soap opera, whispering in a corner. The old paint brush is still holding on in his hand. Paint covers Zane’s arms and torso. There’s some green on his leg, too. The phone is inches from its cradle, it’s crying to go back to bed, but Alejandra’s voice calls back into it and jumps into the room. The echo hits the tight four walls and bounces at the foot of the couch, at Zane’s feet. “Hey, Zane!”
Reluctantly, the receiver crawls back to Zane’s ear. Silent. On both ends. Of a sudden, the receiver laughs and a new voice scratches, “Zane, my man, you up late again!” It’s not a question. Ohan knows the answer. The scratch continues. “You done with that project yet? Even started?”
Green eyes travel to the papers slumbering on the ragged, color stained carpet. “Yeah…I started. Kinda, it’s not coming on too good…”
Cackles. A raspy call. “Don’t stress too much, man! Al and me, we got an idea! Wanna join us? Banner’ll kiss your you-know-what if you do!”
“That good, huh?”
“You better believe it!”
Scans the room. The moon cries light through the window. Tears brush over Professor Banner’s summer holiday assignment, scribbled on a sticky note: Create something. You’re artists. Do something big. Surprise me. Zane’s tongue struggles for words. He’s a painter, not a speaker. He needs color, not words. “Okay. The assignment’s important. Will it win us those extra credits?”
Quiet hits hard. So loud it rings. And then Ohan is back again, laughing. Obviously a bit high. Him and Alejandra. “More than you could ever want! Meet us in the park…No, Al, don’t leave it there, you have to-okay, okay, sheesh…just checking…you know yo-hang on a sec, Zane’s still here; you here, man?”
Winces. Ohan talks loud. “No, I hung up two minutes ago.” Sarcasm ain’t going back to bed tonight.
More laughter before the sound clicks dead. The phone snores in Zane’s ear. He hangs up. Grabbing a jacket from the floor, he pushes sleep from his eyes and wobbles into his feet. Shoes are still on. Untied, but they’re on. It will do.
The night is hard. Quiet echoes through the streets. Sleepy eyes blink in windows. No souls traipse the streets. He walks small, silent. The town grunts and rolls over. No house woke when Zane closed his front door.
Seven streets to the river. Three more streets to the right. Then the park. It springs up behind a line of factories, protected on one side by the river, the other cradled by Lake Michigan. An oasis. For art majors. Like Zane. Like Alejandra. Like Ohan.
Trees rest at random intervals along the broken sidewalk. Lonely benches next to dry water fountains. Two swings rise and fall, like a person breathing. Small slide, forgotten merry-go-round sit sullenly next to each other. Comforting each other. No one ever plays with them.
The only other person living at Park is Railing. Railing is mean. He holds the lake back from her land. Lake splashes through the bars, clutching at Land. She never gets in.
That’s where two figures hide. One crouched on the ground. One leans over Railing, staring at the lake. She always loved the lake.
Zane approaches. He makes a smile, though they can’t see. Or maybe they can. They’re used to the dark. “So…” his voice drops to his feet and rolls into Lake. A giggle answers it, spouts from the water. Alejandra turns her pale face to Zane. “You’ll love it!”
Crouched figure straightens. He’s tall. Bigger than Zane. “You’ll love it,” the rasp agrees, hitting Zane a friendly pat on the back. Zane buckles over, but laughs as well. “I’m sure I will…what is it?”
Red hair makes a curtain. Alejandra stares into Lake’s eyes. She reads Lake’s mind a lot. Zane thinks she understands what Lake is feeling.
“We are going to…” she looks back at the world. Blue eyes, shining with life meet green ones, hurrying with muse. “…paint the world.”
Zane nods. A good idea. He shifts his body, scoping out the world. “Walls, river, Lake. Sidewalk, playground. Trees, benches, and water fountain. And Railing.” Muse flies from his eyes to the rest of his face. He glows. “That’s the world.” It isn’t a question.
“All we know, all we need,” Ohan declares. Mischievous. Black windows, bustling with fun. They stare into green. “Are we ready? I’ll take the sidewalk.” Without answer, he’s gone. He knows we’ll be busy, right behind him. My green then meets her blue. Crooked teeth show a smile at the most beautiful girl in the world. “You can have second pick. What do you want to paint?”
Red bushes over peach, dented with blue. Alejandra’s colors. It’s perfect. A perfect painting. “I…I’ll paint the trees.” White shows. Clean, straight. “What about you, man?”
“…playground…I’m doing the playground.” Zane smiles back.
Lake’s tingling laugh follows them as they begin to color the world.
Cigarette sideways, smoke darkening the green, Zane paints. Eyes are tired. The sun hurts them. It’s almost up. It’s about to knock on the sky’s door. It’s about to spill its buckets of paint over Sky’s carpet. Sky never minds though.
On top of the slide. Zane likes painting on the top of the world. A bright blue. To match Alejandra’s.
Her trees were finished hours ago. She took over the benches, water fountains, and Railing. They are almost finished, too.
Ohan is lying on a wet bench, his back a dull purple. Having a smoke and rest.
Zane gives the slide freckles with a white. Sparkling. He’s done changing his corner.
They are all done now. Zane, Alejandra, Ohan. All wait. For the sun to knock.
A minute. Another. Knock, knock, knock.
“It’s here!” Alejandra jumps. Blue is beaming. Her smile lights up Zane’s world more than Sun ever could. He smiles, too.
Sky throws open the door, and Sun runs in. Rushes, sprints, pours. Then it trips. Like always. Like every morning. And paint is everywhere. Pink, peach, orange, red, and then yellow, white. The same spectacular colors. Every morning.
The sun to his back, Zane turns. So does Alejandra. Ohan already has.
Alejandra’s lips squeak. Her face bursts. With excitement. Hand finds Zane’s.
Green smiling, Zane thinks in a merry voice, This is how it’s supposed to be.
Lake embraces Land. Railing bends over and weeps. Color is everywhere. Alejandra laughs.
“We painted the world!”
A crackle on the opposing end of the line. Zane can hear the excitement hanging in the air there. All, in dizzying contrast, is quiet in his small room. “Hey, boy!” Loud shouts through the wire. Zane jumps. He curses. “Alejandra? What’s the big deal? I don’t have time for this kind of s-”
“Hold up, man, listen! Ohan’s had a brainstorm!”
“Too early for this…” Zane murmurs through dry lips, needing sleep.
“No, no, hold on, seriously, you’ll thank me later!”
Sarcasm is stirred. Step on one creaky floor board, that’s all it takes. “Doubt it.”
More noise on the phone. Zane, shifting his legs, watches wet papers drift lazily to the floor. They were sleeping, too. The people in the television are still acting, their mouths moving with no sound. Muted, while the radio sits on a soap opera, whispering in a corner. The old paint brush is still holding on in his hand. Paint covers Zane’s arms and torso. There’s some green on his leg, too. The phone is inches from its cradle, it’s crying to go back to bed, but Alejandra’s voice calls back into it and jumps into the room. The echo hits the tight four walls and bounces at the foot of the couch, at Zane’s feet. “Hey, Zane!”
Reluctantly, the receiver crawls back to Zane’s ear. Silent. On both ends. Of a sudden, the receiver laughs and a new voice scratches, “Zane, my man, you up late again!” It’s not a question. Ohan knows the answer. The scratch continues. “You done with that project yet? Even started?”
Green eyes travel to the papers slumbering on the ragged, color stained carpet. “Yeah…I started. Kinda, it’s not coming on too good…”
Cackles. A raspy call. “Don’t stress too much, man! Al and me, we got an idea! Wanna join us? Banner’ll kiss your you-know-what if you do!”
“That good, huh?”
“You better believe it!”
Scans the room. The moon cries light through the window. Tears brush over Professor Banner’s summer holiday assignment, scribbled on a sticky note: Create something. You’re artists. Do something big. Surprise me. Zane’s tongue struggles for words. He’s a painter, not a speaker. He needs color, not words. “Okay. The assignment’s important. Will it win us those extra credits?”
Quiet hits hard. So loud it rings. And then Ohan is back again, laughing. Obviously a bit high. Him and Alejandra. “More than you could ever want! Meet us in the park…No, Al, don’t leave it there, you have to-okay, okay, sheesh…just checking…you know yo-hang on a sec, Zane’s still here; you here, man?”
Winces. Ohan talks loud. “No, I hung up two minutes ago.” Sarcasm ain’t going back to bed tonight.
More laughter before the sound clicks dead. The phone snores in Zane’s ear. He hangs up. Grabbing a jacket from the floor, he pushes sleep from his eyes and wobbles into his feet. Shoes are still on. Untied, but they’re on. It will do.
The night is hard. Quiet echoes through the streets. Sleepy eyes blink in windows. No souls traipse the streets. He walks small, silent. The town grunts and rolls over. No house woke when Zane closed his front door.
Seven streets to the river. Three more streets to the right. Then the park. It springs up behind a line of factories, protected on one side by the river, the other cradled by Lake Michigan. An oasis. For art majors. Like Zane. Like Alejandra. Like Ohan.
Trees rest at random intervals along the broken sidewalk. Lonely benches next to dry water fountains. Two swings rise and fall, like a person breathing. Small slide, forgotten merry-go-round sit sullenly next to each other. Comforting each other. No one ever plays with them.
The only other person living at Park is Railing. Railing is mean. He holds the lake back from her land. Lake splashes through the bars, clutching at Land. She never gets in.
That’s where two figures hide. One crouched on the ground. One leans over Railing, staring at the lake. She always loved the lake.
Zane approaches. He makes a smile, though they can’t see. Or maybe they can. They’re used to the dark. “So…” his voice drops to his feet and rolls into Lake. A giggle answers it, spouts from the water. Alejandra turns her pale face to Zane. “You’ll love it!”
Crouched figure straightens. He’s tall. Bigger than Zane. “You’ll love it,” the rasp agrees, hitting Zane a friendly pat on the back. Zane buckles over, but laughs as well. “I’m sure I will…what is it?”
Red hair makes a curtain. Alejandra stares into Lake’s eyes. She reads Lake’s mind a lot. Zane thinks she understands what Lake is feeling.
“We are going to…” she looks back at the world. Blue eyes, shining with life meet green ones, hurrying with muse. “…paint the world.”
Zane nods. A good idea. He shifts his body, scoping out the world. “Walls, river, Lake. Sidewalk, playground. Trees, benches, and water fountain. And Railing.” Muse flies from his eyes to the rest of his face. He glows. “That’s the world.” It isn’t a question.
“All we know, all we need,” Ohan declares. Mischievous. Black windows, bustling with fun. They stare into green. “Are we ready? I’ll take the sidewalk.” Without answer, he’s gone. He knows we’ll be busy, right behind him. My green then meets her blue. Crooked teeth show a smile at the most beautiful girl in the world. “You can have second pick. What do you want to paint?”
Red bushes over peach, dented with blue. Alejandra’s colors. It’s perfect. A perfect painting. “I…I’ll paint the trees.” White shows. Clean, straight. “What about you, man?”
“…playground…I’m doing the playground.” Zane smiles back.
Lake’s tingling laugh follows them as they begin to color the world.
Cigarette sideways, smoke darkening the green, Zane paints. Eyes are tired. The sun hurts them. It’s almost up. It’s about to knock on the sky’s door. It’s about to spill its buckets of paint over Sky’s carpet. Sky never minds though.
On top of the slide. Zane likes painting on the top of the world. A bright blue. To match Alejandra’s.
Her trees were finished hours ago. She took over the benches, water fountains, and Railing. They are almost finished, too.
Ohan is lying on a wet bench, his back a dull purple. Having a smoke and rest.
Zane gives the slide freckles with a white. Sparkling. He’s done changing his corner.
They are all done now. Zane, Alejandra, Ohan. All wait. For the sun to knock.
A minute. Another. Knock, knock, knock.
“It’s here!” Alejandra jumps. Blue is beaming. Her smile lights up Zane’s world more than Sun ever could. He smiles, too.
Sky throws open the door, and Sun runs in. Rushes, sprints, pours. Then it trips. Like always. Like every morning. And paint is everywhere. Pink, peach, orange, red, and then yellow, white. The same spectacular colors. Every morning.
The sun to his back, Zane turns. So does Alejandra. Ohan already has.
Alejandra’s lips squeak. Her face bursts. With excitement. Hand finds Zane’s.
Green smiling, Zane thinks in a merry voice, This is how it’s supposed to be.
Lake embraces Land. Railing bends over and weeps. Color is everywhere. Alejandra laughs.
“We painted the world!”
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