Born Different (6 page)

“Well you know,
if you want to darling, I’ll leave it on the kitchen table. Just in
case.”

“I’ll see you
later then mum.”

“Good luck if I
don’t see you before darling, and you know, anything you ever want
to talk about, I am here for you. I’ll make it for The Exhibition I
promise.”

Gina had been
neurotic since the first day she had started seeing clients in the
house. Neurotic and guilty that her work and family life balance
wasn’t right, that she would be in some way neglecting Gabe. She
saw how he hid or ran out of the house if she had clients and she
couldn’t blame him. But Gina couldn’t think of any better options
and it had got Gabe more into his art and closer to his friends, in
a gang even, so she thought she must be doing something right.

“I know
mum…err…one thing I have been thinking about recently. You always
said you had a photo, you know, of the man. And I always said when
I’ve finished my exams and leave school...”

“The man that
got me pregnant?” Neither of them felt it was appropriate to call
him dad or father, nor even the man that helped make you. And
‘sperm donor’ seemed a bit too harsh. Gina, who didn’t like saying
nor hearing his name, disappeared into her office and came out
holding an envelope with the word ‘Cassiel’ printed on it. The same
name now ringing in her head and making her nervous, but she knew
it was time.

“He was an
artist too you know.”

Gabe didn’t
know. Gabe didn’t know anything about this man. He didn’t even know
if he wanted to open the envelope his mother had just handed him.
Instead, he put it in his back pocket like it was merely a shopping
list and not, what he hoped, an old photograph of his father.

So his father
was an artist too, that made sense. Gabe liked it when things made
sense.

Gina had said
that she had a photo of him but Gabe had always brushed it off so
as not to appear that he needed to know; that he needed more than
she was giving him. She had said that she would give it to him when
he left school and then he could take it from there. And ever
since, Gabe had counted down the days but now, he just couldn’t
wait or put it off for any longer.

Gina had been
waiting for this day to come for a long while too. People can leave
physically but there are always the memories of them. Like ghosts,
but of the still living but absent.

Gabe got to the
end of the street, turned towards the direction of school and was a
distance away from his house and his mum when he started debating
with himself whether he should take a look inside the envelope or
not. He had waited so long. He always imagined that he would tear
the envelope open immediately and go searching but when it came
down to it, there were other pressing questions instead. Like, what
was the point? A father who had run away and not made contact
perhaps didn’t want contacting and what if he looked nothing like
Gabe had imagined, totally different to him? A stranger! And what
did Gabe have now that made him appealing? All he was, was a kid
with dodgy friends, no money and no girlfriend. He hadn’t achieved
anything yet. And then Gabe had the thought that was almost as
secret as his wings.
What if I am just not likable enough to
have a father love me?

Gabe realised
he was marching and he tried to relax and slow down a bit, the
contents of his pocket, the envelope and its contents, was almost
calling him, but something was stopping Gabe from taking it out and
opening it.

Like,
why
had his father left them? Gabe knew that Gina had had
somewhat of a complex life before she’d had him. She had been
living in a small village just outside of the city, which was not a
very good place to be if you were gifted or different, Gina had
once said. When she had Gabe and it had become clear that she was
going to be a single parent, they had upped sticks and moved to the
city.

Gina had been
tempted to move to the middle of nowhere and bring Gabe up alone
and totally protected from the outside world, and therefore give
him the freedom to use his wings more. And then of course she could
also have him all to herself, but she had quickly realised that
this wasn’t fair. Gabe had to have a life too, a life with friends
and people, an education and as normal a childhood as possible. She
also had to pull herself together and get on with her life, get a
career and do all the things that good mothers do. It was a
question she often asked herself, “Would a good mother do that?” So
they had moved to the city where there were far more different
sorts of people with busy and full lives where they could blend in
a bit better and with any luck, disappear.

Cassiel, the
boyfriend, Gabe’s ‘father’, had only been in the village for a
short while, a foreigner in a foreign land, running away from or to
something no doubt. He had been very exotic, charming and good
looking and he had driven a motorbike, and Gina had fallen head
over heels in love with him. She had thought that he had loved her
too. But soon enough, his actions had indicated that he obviously
hadn’t loved her
that
much. Shortly after she had discovered
that she was pregnant with Gabe, he had run off. He went out one
day on the pretext of an errand and he just never came back.

Gina had, after
repeatedly, frantically calling around all the emergency services,
slowly come to realise that he had gone and was not in some
hospital or police cell somewhere. Then she had no other option
than to just wait. And she had waited. For months she had waited as
she grew and changed with the growing baby inside of her, always
half expecting the baby’s daddy to knock on the door at any moment
or to feel his hand slide over the crest of her baby bump. She had
waited until it was impossible to wait any longer. Until she had
gone through the birth and all that entailed alone. Gina had waited
until she had been forced into a corner to make the decision to go.
To move forward, to accept that ‘the family’ was just the two of
them and scrap all the dreams she’d that had involved Cassiel and
start again.

Gabe always
said, almost flippantly whenever asked, that he never missed having
a father as he had never known what it was like to have one. He
hoped saying this would make Gina feel less bad or guilty, like she
always looked like she did anytime this father person had been
brought up in conversation. When Gina would turn from her usual,
well bright and bubbly self into a pain gripped, lonely looking
woman.

Gabe thought if
he said it enough it might actually come true. It seemed to make
her happy. Little did they realise, the mother and son in trying to
keep the other one happy, found themselves resorting to lying to
each other for fear of hurting the other one’s feelings. Gabe did
miss his father. He often wondered what his father might look like,
if they had any similar habits or traits. Gabe wondered if he would
recognise him instantly if he ever saw him. Gabe looked very
different to Gina, he was tall and lean and she was small and
petite. Their faces were vaguely similar but Gabe knew that his
nose and colouring had come from a different gene pool. A gene pool
that he knew nothing about and this fascinated him. Gabe had always
dreamed that one day, when he was rich and famous and selling
paintings for half a million dollars that his father would read
about him or hear about him and contact him with open arms. Then,
all the pieces of the jigsaw would fit together and Gabe might be
able to understand what it might feel like to feel complete.

But go chasing
for him now, even looking at his image? Would that serve to fulfil
his dreams or, more than likely, just shatter them?

It was still
early and Gabe had plenty of time. No doubt his friends would be at
the park already, keen to get out of their own homes for one reason
or another. They would already be waiting for him, waiting to
elaborately inform him of their plans. Gabe was still not one
hundred percent sure if he really should get involved, not at this
late stage of the game. He had an exam that afternoon that he
couldn’t miss. He was so nearly free. Free to go about his own
life. Playing with fire now could ruin things, everything, the rest
of his life. It might have been OK for them; they wanted to be
‘business men’, gangsters. They wanted to be a part of
that
world but Gabe didn’t. He couldn’t think of anything worse.

Gabe really
wanted to be an artist. Everyone told him that this was nearly
impossible though, especially if you weren’t going to go to one of
the big art schools or had no one famous in your family. But seeing
as these were not options for Gabe and plus the fact that, as far
as Gabe could work out, everyone, especially adults and
particularly ones in so called authority, talked the biggest load
of rubbish going most of the time. They spoke and dished out advice
with plenty of conviction, only it was all bullshit. This made Gabe
believe, have a small glimmer of hope, that they were wrong and
that he might just be able to sell his paintings. Gabe dreamed that
one day he would and the truth of it was that Gabe had to start
trying to sell his paintings soon because he had to! He
had
to earn money
now
. Everything had a cost, even simple
living. Just surviving was expensive.

And Gabe felt
that he had to draw. Not just because it kept him isolated and
because people told him he was good at it but also because it kept
him saner than he might possibly be if he didn’t. Other people
might jog or eat a specific diet to stay healthier and Gabe knew he
had to draw and paint and create. To him, it was his medicine.
Painting in his studio, isolated and alone without his bandages on,
with the air on his skin and a paintbrush in his hand were the
closest Gabe ever came to feeling like he recognised himself as he
truly was and not as someone with so many masks he had no idea who
he was from one day to the next.

“Art is his
drug of choice,” is how Johnny put it.

The problem
was, Gabe knew, that if he didn’t start selling his art he would
have to almost immediately go and get a job doing something else
which would mean that he couldn’t hang out in his studio and paint.
If he couldn’t hang out in his studio, he wouldn’t be able to live
with his wings out much, if at all, as the job slowly but surely
sucked the living hours out of him.

Gabe had to
believe that the only reason he had never sold anything yet was
simply because he had never tried. Gabe hadn’t yet been confident
enough to put a price to his paintings let alone get out there and
promote himself and his work, and secretly he didn’t want to be
parted from his painting either as he found himself bonding and
getting attached to them. They were, after all, an extension of
him, part of him even. There were also the voices in his head that
were telling him that he still wasn’t good enough but he was trying
to get better. Every day he was trying to get better. He pushed
himself further everyday with every painting and he doubted if he
would ever be satisfied. But, it didn’t matter now as the time had
come. He was all out of choices because if he didn’t start selling
his paintings he would have to do something else.

Gabe knew there
was only so long he could procrastinate for. There was only so long
he could make up excuses and put it off before fate stepped in and
made him up another life path. A life path that didn’t include
fulfilling any of his dreams.

The sun had
broken free from the thick grey prison wall of cloud and Gabe felt
the heat and light shine down on his face. It felt as if the suns
golden rays were filling him up with some sort of spiritual life
energy. In the early morning sunlight Gabe let himself relax as the
golden yellow glow lit him up. And it was as if the world stood
still for a moment and it felt good.

Gabe stopped
still on the pavement and he closed his eyes and as the sun started
to heat his face, he tried to think things through. The first
thought that he had was compelling, it told him that he should turn
around and go home. Go back to his studio and start on this
sculpture he wanted to do to make a big impact at The Exhibition.
He really needed, more than anything, to start detaching from his
friends now. He had needed their company and would be properly
alone without them but they had drifted apart a lot these last two
years. Not actually physically drifted apart, he saw them now as
much as ever, it just wasn’t the same. They weren’t as close. And
Gabe really needed to not be with them physically too but he didn’t
know how he was supposed to go about doing that? Dump them? Avoid
them? A big part of him didn’t want to. A big part of him liked
being with them, that still remembered the days when everything was
more innocent, genuine and fun. More honest. But everything had
changed and Gabe knew that he had to get out
now
. They
weren’t bad people, not really, were they? They just did things now
that were illegal or worse, what Gabe believed to be bad, or just
wrong. It had been OK for a while but it wasn’t OK anymore. It
wasn’t as if they could claim that they didn’t know what they were
doing. It all played on Gabe’s conscience which was exhausting. It
wasn’t pretend. It was real life and it was his life and Gabe just
didn’t want this to be his life anymore.

It was time,
not just to catch Graces attention, to
maybe
go looking for
his father. It was time to really try and be an artist which meant
it was time to leave a lot of his old life behind. They only had a
couple of weeks left now. After The Exhibition, Gabe would have to
get on with his life and that would mean going in a very different
direction to his friends.