... I looked around the room aimlessly as Gerard furiously searched, my eyes locking on our mural.
Now that we had stepped back from it for awhile, done other things and got rid of the sexual tension in the shower, I could see it for what it was really worth. I saw the way the colors blended and images began to pop out into my mind. I saw in the center, where the red, blue, and green paint remained formed an image of a bird. Or at least to me, it was a bird. There was a small pear-shaped body, with splashes of blue and green to make the wings flap around the base. The head was a red patch, bobbed more forward than that of the neck. Wave like patterns, from when Gerard and I had let our hands glide along the wall, were made at the end of the bird, forming tail feathers. The other colors that were around it, the bright oranges and pinks, formed background noise; outside creativity coming in to inspire the bird’s flight.
But not just any bird, I began to theorize. My eyes scanned the mural, noticing all the small, specific details. I noticed the distinct curves and symmetry of the body, the way the colors blended together. It was still vibrant, but there was a calming hue to everything. All the colors touched. There were no definite lines where the blue started and the red ended. They blended together at the borders and edges while in the center, they were at their most vivacious. As if on cue, another bird flew by the still drying mural, and there was no doubt in my mind that this image was of a dove. I knew, like the dove in real life, this one on the mural was flying too. The way its wings appeared to be thrown down on the mural, and how far they were spread out from its body made it look like it was soaring. It was when my eyes followed its flight path that I got the surprise of my life.
The dove was flying in the direction of Gerard’s door; the one that I had just marked. It was flying towards the sun, and the endless sun at that.
I sat there for awhile, ignoring everything else that was going on around me and thought about this. There was so much double meaning in everything. The bird, this mythical and magical creature, was flying towards the handprint on Gerard’s nothingness. The words he had written began to make more sense and the feelings that were coursing through me were beginning to overpower everything. I looked at the painting, my mouth wide open and breathed out a shocked breath. I couldn’t believe we had made that without trying to.
“Gerard,” I called in weak voice, still drained.
“Hmmm…?” he said, not looking up from his poetry books and flipping through the accented pages quickly.
“Gerard, look at our mural,” I commanded, my voice strong yet humble at the same time. Sensing this tone, he raised his head, his hair still damp from the shower and looked. He saw the image right away, always able to grasp art abstract concepts much more readily than I had ever been able to. He glanced over at me, a smile wide on his lips. I noticed the small blue tinge he had to the area, still not fully unstained from the shower.
“The most beautiful art comes when you’re not trying,” he informed me, taking in a deep breath. He had stopped flipping through poetry, and the book rested soundlessly on the white sheet. There was a lull in conversation, consciously drawing me in. He looked at me seriously, and touched the side of my face. “I wasn’t trying to find you, Frank. You found me.”