A Word in the Breeze

Heart To Heart (Deaf By Choice III)

'I can't actually paint,' she said defensively. 'I'm not an expert, I just pretended I could sometimes. My mother liked it.' She shrugged.

'What about your father?'

Her eyes trailed towards his portrait, as though seeking permission to speak.

'He... wasn't very impressed to be honest. But he let me do it because it kept me happy.'

It kept me happy.

I looked at her, full of confusion. 'If painting makes you happy, Veronica, then no matter what anyone says, you should keep painting. It's not exactly rocket science! I mean, you are desperately in need of happiness right about now!'

'Yes, but... ' She looked at her fingers in her lap, hair falling over her face. 'I don't have anything to paint anymore...'

'Why? What do you usually paint?'

And so she showed me.

I was wrong when I had assumed that bedroom to be the last room of the house. Oh, so wrong.

Behind what I thought to be a closet door, Veronica revealed an art room, full of paintings upon paintings, stacked on each other, and leaning against the walls.

I picked them up turn by turn, my jaw hanging loose.

Because each and every painting was a portrait of Veronica's parents. Either the mother, or the father. They were in pastel colour or black and white shadow, or sketches, or monochrome - but everytime a portrait of her mother or father, or both.

'Did you never paint anything else?' I wondered.

'Yes, I did, actually! They're all over the house - paintings of birds and fruits and trees...'

'Oh yes, I've seen them! That was you?'

'Yes! I made them in the garden. I've loved painting since I was a little girl. I once fell off a tree trying to get a good angle on the rose bush.' She tapped the scar on her eyebrow. 'But I keep my parents' portraits here. One for every birthday. That always annoyed Dad!'

I turned round, with the gorgeous paintings in hand, incredulous. 'It annoyed him?'

'He didn't like seeing his own face very much. He always said I got his nose wrong.' She smiled with a hint of sadness. 'My mother always loved it though. She's the one who taught me to paint.'

Her eyes were bright with emotion, and she tried to wipe them without being obvious. When she spoke again, her voice cracked.

'I can't draw them anymore. Not from life.'

And that was all she could manage. She left the room, and I followed her, closing the door behind me. She was sad, but I couldn't be happier. I had found her dream.

When she calmed down again, I sat in front of her, smiling fixedly. She frowned.

'What're you so happy about?' she asked.

'I'm happy because I've done it. I've figured it out. I know how to turn your life around.'

Her eyes were wide. 'Are you going to bring my parents back?' she breathed hopefully.

I sighed. 'No, Veronica. I'm not God. I'm just a genie. The secrets of life and death are beyond me, so... I'm sorry, but I can't reunite you with your parents, one way or the other. You're not going to die, and they're not coming back to life. You just have to accept it.'

'Oh,' she said morosely. Her lower lip quivered, and my thought-sensitive ears pricked up. My earphones weren't on, they were in my pocket -

'I don't want to accept it! I can't! They died, they left me, so I'm dying too. I WANT to die. Why doesn't he understand?! I DON'T WANT TO PAINT THEIR GHOSTS AGAIN I JUST WANT TO DIE -!'

I fell backwards, covering my ears, writhing. She stood up in shock.

'HE - HE'S JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE, HE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND, HE'S NEVER LOST ANYONE! HE EXPECTS ME TO BURN MY EMOTIONS AND JUST FORGET - WHAT IF I DON'T WANT TO FORGET?!'

'Shut up!'

'What? I didn't even say anything!'

'- THEY EXPECT ME TO RIP MY HEART OUT, CUT OFF MY MEMORIES, SO THAT IT WON'T HURT ANYMORE, BUT IT ALWAYS WILL! IT WILL ALWAYS HURT LIKE PHYSICAL PAIN TO EVEN -'

'I can hear your thoughts! I'm a genie! JUST STOP!'

She was shocked into silence. I was on the floor, panting, ears ringing.

The anger. The emotion. Up close it sounds like a siren blaring in your ears. It felt like they were bleeding.

I sat up slowly, hands over the sides of my head.

'I do understand,' I mumbled.

'What?'

'I said, I do understand.' I looked up into her huge eyes. 'What it feels like to lose someone. Centuries ago, there were other genies in my life. What you could call... families, children... a home.' I licked my lips. 'Then came the war, and we were trapped into bottles and lamps by a triumphant human king. We were separated from each other, isolated for centuries, never to see our loved ones again...'

Veronica sat down on the floor with me in concern. 'What happened?'

'Some died, some were lost. By the time we were freed, we had travelled oceans apart through trading routes. We never saw each other again. It's been seven hundred years, and I don't even remember their faces anymore.'

She covered her mouth in shock. 'Really?'

'Really,' I said, feeling wretched, exposed. 'So believe me, I know what I'm saying when I say there's nothing you can do. Because there's nothing you can do. Death is absolute, it takes us all in the end. You can't fight it, you just accept it. Even if your heart bleeds to think of it. I'm not asking you to forget your parents, and I'm not asking you to grieve over them everyday either. I just need you to let yourself accept it. Can you do that?'

With difficulty, she nodded. 'I can.'

'Good. Now, remember I said I could turn your life around?'

'Yes?'

'Well, I can't do it alone. I need you to help me.'

'Okay.'

'Everyday, you have to get up in the morning and paint something you love.'

'No, but I can't, I left painting -'

'You don't have to paint a person! Just paint something beautiful : the sunrise, mountains, sparrows in your windowsill, anything! You've started associating painting with sadness, but I need you to start associating it with happiness and gratefulness. Can you do that?'

'I... Yes, I think so.'

'Because if you do, I'm going to grant you your deepest wish.'

She shook her head. 'I told you. I don't wish for anything.'

'Yes you do. Look at me and think about it.'

She thought about it. I could see the dream materialising through her eyes.

'I wish I didn't have to be lonely. I wish you'd come to see me everyday, and talk to me about my paintings. I wish... for company. For friendship.'

I smiled as wide as ever. 'Your wish is my command.'

Maybe humans weren't so irritating after all.