Prettyboy

4: I, The Artist (Pt. II)

The mindset that I had adopted since I set my foot in that family suited me rather nice. So I like to believe.

I rang my best friend, Ray, right before our outing to the lake and I'd like to emphasize on the way he called me an 'all-set family guy' after I'd told him of my days in the Way's cabin, and he'd laughed, exaggerating a drawn-out 'man' that made me hanker back to our college days. Then, I was violently dragged into reality again when I heard his two-year-old son crying hysterically in the background and Ray hurried to hang up. We hurled goodbyes to each other that you could hear our smiles through. Funny thing, Ray, he always had been, but never in such an ostentatious way. Recalling now, the conversations we had had back in the day as freshmen, Raymond had always hinted at wanting to make his own family, from early on.

I encountered Michael in the kitchen, who, strangely, seemed to be preparing breakfast, so I joined him.

I had noticed that his elder brother had once again stayed up late, therefore I wasn't surprised when he made an appearance at the exact moment that the clocked showed twelve, midday. By then, we were all just lounging around the table, watching the boy with the disheveled black hair drink his coffee. Shortly after, Michael made it known that he was beginning to feel bored, waiting around for his brother to finish his coffee, so he left the table and Lana joined him upstairs to his room to help him find something suitable for the weather to wear. Thus, I was once more left with the reserved teenager. His scruffy appearance in the mornings was something that concurred with his carefree and breezy attitude. I think I'm speaking for everyone that had the luck to meet him when I say that he was no fool to accede to my attempts at making small-talk, though I did not quite understand why.

"It's something unoriginal and it ticks me off when people try to tempt me to play along," he'd said after I asked him why he was so against it. "I mean, don't pretend you give a damn about how I slept last night or how I am this morning, it doesn't get me fooled. My last night's sleep; why would it be anyone's business but mine?"

Trying to spot a fault in what he had made a maxim, I inquired, "But what if someone is unduly curious to learn if you'd had a good night's sleep or how you're feeling this morning? Say you were feeling sick yesterday, I would want to know if you're still feeling sick."

His brows lifted simultaneously. "I'm an honest person. I don't hide anything. If something's so bad, I can't endure, I'll tell the nearest person at once."

Hearing that, I narrowed my eyes and rested my chin on my hand. "What about the little things?"

A sardonic wave of the hand he made assured me of his indifference. "Little things are trivial. They don't matter," he claimed. I didn't bother to tell him that he's contradicting himself right there, but I pondered it deeply. If you take the time to notice the little things, as an honest person, you'd have to tell, otherwise, it means that you're hiding it. Nowadays, it makes me wonder how it would've played off if I had told him so.

My thinking was interrupted when he flashed a sweet smile and laughed blithely, staring down at his lap. I couldn't hide my smile even if I tried, for his was contagious.

"It depends on what you perceive as little, doesn't it?" said I, in a compromising manner.

"That's right. Good, you're on the right track. To some people, nothing seems little or trivial."

I nodded, agreeing even though he didn't ask for my opinion, and said, "That sounds a bit like me."

"What do you perceive as little?" asked he. I merely lifted my shoulders, sort of inadvertently, waiting in a short silence to see what he was driving at as he levered himself upright on his seat and said, "Do you ever thoroughly study people? Like, when they're not looking, they think nobody's looking, and you can see their true selves?" He paused to consider: "And then realize that nothing they do is trivial, and every move of muscle they make matters?"