Klara and the Sun(36)
I soon understood that the words Rick wrote inside the bubbles represented the thoughts, sometimes the speech, of the picture people, and that as such, his task carried some danger. From the start, I worried that something Josie drew, or something Rick wrote, would bring tension. But during this phase, the bubble game seemed to result only in enjoyment and reminiscences, and I’d see them reflected in the glass, laughing and pointing forefingers at each other. Had they concentrated solely on their game as they first played it – if they’d kept their conversation focused just on the pictures – perhaps the tensions wouldn’t have leaked in. But as Josie continued to sketch, and Rick to fill the bubbles, they began to converse about topics unrelated to the pictures.
One sunny afternoon, with the Sun’s pattern touching Rick’s feet where he sat against the modern wardrobe, Josie said:
‘You know, Ricky, I’m wondering if you’re getting jealous. The way you always keep asking about this portrait.’
‘I don’t understand. You mean you’re doing an actual portrait of me up there?’
‘No, Ricky. I mean the way you keep bringing up my portrait. The one this guy’s doing of me up in the city.’
‘Oh that. Well, I did once mention it, I suppose. That’s hardly bringing it up all the time.’
‘You keep bringing it up. Twice just yesterday.’
Rick’s writing hand paused, but he didn’t look up. ‘I suppose I’m curious. But how can anyone get jealous about your portrait getting done?’
‘Seems dumb. But you definitely sound that way.’
For the next few moments they were silent, getting on with their respective tasks. Then Rick said:
‘I wouldn’t say I’m jealous. I’m concerned. This guy, this artist person. Everything you say about him sounds, well, creepy.’
‘He’s just doing my portrait, is all. He’s always respectful, always anxious not to tire me out.’
‘He never sounds right. You say I keep bringing this up. Well, that’s because each time I do, you say something else to make me think, oh my God, this is getting creepy.’
‘What’s creepy about it?’
‘For one thing, you’ve been to his studio, what, four times? But he never shows you anything. No rough sketches, nothing. All he seems to do is take photos up close. This piece of you, that piece of you. Is that what artists really do?’
‘He prefers photos because that way I don’t get exhausted sitting still for hours in the old-fashioned way. This way I’m only in there twenty minutes tops, each time. He takes the photos he needs stage by stage. And Mom’s always there. Look, would my mom hire some pervert to do my portrait?’
Rick didn’t respond. Then Josie went on:
‘I think it is some kind of jealousy, Ricky. But you know what? I don’t mind. Shows you’ve got the right attitude. You’re being protective. Shows you’re thinking about our plan. So don’t worry.’
‘I’m not worried. This is such a ridiculous accusation.’
‘It’s not an accusation. I’m not saying it’s like sexual or anything. What I’m saying is that this portrait, it’s just part of the big world out there, and you’re worried it could get in our way. When I say you might be jealous, I’m just meaning in that sense.’
‘Fair enough.’
Their ‘plan’, though frequently mentioned, was rarely discussed in detail. Nevertheless, it was during this – still gentle – phase of the visits that I began to gather together their various remarks about it into a coherent observation. I came to understand that the plan wasn’t anything they’d built carefully, but more a vague wish connected to their future. I realized too the significance of this plan for my own aims; that as the future unfolded, even if the Mother, Melania Housekeeper and I could remain near her at all times, without the plan, Josie might still not keep away loneliness.
* * *
—
There then came a point when the bubble game stopped bringing laughter and brought instead fear and uncertainty. In my mind today, this marks the third and last phase of those visits Rick made at that time.
It’s hard now to establish which of them first altered the mood. In the earlier phases, Josie’s sketches were often created purposefully to bring back amusing or happy incidents they’d shared in the past. This was one reason Rick was able to fill the bubbles quickly and with little hesitation. But there now came a change in Rick’s reactions when the sheets floated down to him. Increasingly he would stare at them for long moments, sigh or frown. Then when he wrote his words, he’d do so slowly and with more concentration, often not replying to anything Josie said until he’d finished. And Josie’s responses, once Rick had passed the sheets back up to her, became hard to predict. She might study a sheet with blank eyes, before placing it amidst her bedclothes without comment. Or sometimes she’d flick a completed sheet back onto the floor, this time to a spot beyond Rick’s reach.
Every now and then, the mood might return to the way it was before, and they’d laugh or argue in a friendly way. But increasingly, either Josie’s picture or Rick’s words would cause an unkind exchange. Even so, a comfortable atmosphere would usually have returned by the time Melania Housekeeper called up the end of the thirty minutes.