The lemon pie

There was this man who produced inside of me the incredible desire to write. I met him in a garden full with lilac-bushes, with white oak benches, where master Time seemed to stop and watch how all these nameless people were rejoicing in a madness we should all experience sometime.
I was looking for a job(and of course,  to impress myself by choosing the most unwanted, to prove myself that I still had something noble inside of me).One year ago, I wouldn't have thought to come all this way…but here I am, I’ve locked between these white walls all my dreams, my hopes, my heart.
His name was Jack (or so they told me ). With no past nor future, but faithful keeper of my present. Everybody said he was dangerous in a very subtle way…. And they were right.
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My nursing skills were way above my expectations. I tried to keep everyone satisfied and assure my living here(at least until I had enough money to buy a bloody apartment).But well, the facilities here were acceptable and the medical stuff was understanding and amiable.
For the beginning, I had only one patient to take care of…Jack. A more experienced nurse was teaching me the basics and after no more than three months she was to decide if I was ready to be moved to the major ward and work along with the others. But for now, I was concentrating only on Jack’s needs (…and mines).
During most of the days, I used to watch him painting. In fact, his modern form of expressing his vision upon the world, confused me: he allowed the brush total independence. I was sure that he could have been a much better painter if he could have actually paint, not just mime. Smiling in his own out-of-this-world way, he said to me:
”-These colors have a life of their own. Look at red, she will devour the paper with her lust, blue is always resting at the corners of the page and this yellow is never to interfere with the other colors, runs in confusion all over the place. What can I do?I’m a nobody.”…That was the moment when everything became crystal-clear: I was standing in front of a man who was possessing the secret of life…. But I kept wondering if I was prepared for it?
My passions were few but strong. Most of my feelings were finding, in the form of a poem, a place to rest and blossom. Far from being a real poet, I was experiencing the pleasure and liberation of writing down all the things I was to weak to accept and express. Nobody was to find out about them…so I was perfectly safe. Until Jack saw me once, after dinner:
“-Is it about me?”
I closed the notebook,having the strange feeling that he already knew all my inner secrets.I blushed.
“-No.Just some impressions.I must admit that each day here is an adventure for me.”
“-If you will ever write something about me,will you read it to me?”
“-That is a promise!”.
Every single night he was going to bed at 10 PM . For the first two months I suffered terribly from insomnia:nightmares with patients eating me alive or nurses poisoning me at lunch.Most of the times,I was managing to fall asleep by 4 AM,but no,he was punctual like a baby.I was envying him for that( and for many other unusual habits who seemed to make his life better than mine).From what I heard, I was expecting him to ask me to read him a story or something( You know,like lunatics do).He anticipated my curiosity about his bed-time hour and gave me a non-lunatic look,saying:
“-Some of my best dreams start at 10 PM.”…But what could he dream about?!

My room was very close to his and had a lovely view to the garden.Oh!How I loved that garden! While I was sitting there, I didn’t care at all about the world outside.Just me,the lilac and the seasons ,which were measuring a time belonging only to me.
When I was in high-school,my mother pursue me to become a lawyer,saying that I have the “talk and the walk” to do it.Well,things didn’t end up as she planned. I said to myself:”Girl, pack your things and act crazy once in your life. You might die from hunger or be raped by a truck driver,but at least you’ll be able to say that it was your decision to move on.” And so I left home,with no idea what was going to happen to me or if I’ll bare to face the world alone.I gave some calls:to my ex-boyfriend(telling him I was going to Hollywood to become a movie star), to my friend,Sara(saying:”Hy!Can I stay over your place for a week or two?”)….and to my mother(but this phone call was very short,she hanged up after hearing my voice).
If I should thank someone(beside God) for me being where I am now,that should be Sara.We always thought we were soul-sisters and that life,no matter what,will always bring us together.So,there I was,at her house, pretending I’m not desperate at all.
“-Look! You can stay here as long as you want,but only if you are sure that you want to spend your entire life watching out  for my cat and having a very weird relationship with my TV-set.”
That was a real tricky vision upon my next…40 years.
“-I will look for a job but I don’t think anyone will hire me.”
“-What exactly do you want to do?”
“-Well, I can cook( the basic menu), I could be a waitress or I could take care of someone’s dogs?!…(if there’s such kind a job around here)
“-I know someone at the "Heaven on earth" who might help you,but you must go there for an interview.I heard they need more personnel.”
“-Great! I cannot believe it! I owe you my life actually. I’m not so keen of dogs,but I will do my best!”
“-It’s a care institution for people with mental disabilities…”
A crucial step in my humble life…I thought I was a lost cause,but after getting the interview and settling here, I started to think I was meant to become a nurse.Of course,why bothering Sara with my presence! I accepted a room in the patient’s building,to be close to the real atmosphere. I called Sara almost each day to tell her how thrilled I was about my first(…and last) job.
I left behind a life(consisting basically of “doing nothing”) that I used to pretend I enjoy.Each day at the care-center was a lesson for me.And Jack was an amazing teacher.
At 3 PM, on Friday,once a month, there used to be a big gathering:   patients and medical stuff ,in order to accommodate the new ones and receive impressions from the others.Most of the patients here were having no relatives, memories or hopes.Some were alive only from an organic point of view,some have shared pieces of their virtual existence (never confirmed,but worthing to be listened).The doctors were all looking like actors in a tragic play:smiling most of the time,but knowing they are fighting for a ghost-like cause.At the end of the day,all the masks were removed and everyone returned to their own world.Not having much to do,I was allowed to observe how this tiny universe here was ruled.There were nurses who told me that if you get attached to much to a patient,something inside of you dies along with him.I took that as a cliche.At one gathering I was about to witness at the beginning of own recreation:
“-Thank you,Susan!Your story was lovely and I’m glad you liked the pie.Now,who wants to be next?”
I looked at their faces.People like you and me,but at the same time,so different.Their smile was not a premeditated reaction but a genuine form of expressing involuntary happiness.Jack raised his hand.
“-Always a pleasure to hear you,Jack!Come in front!”
Inside,I felt a weird sensation of pride(or something close to this).He was MY patient.In his reactions there was my print….But soon I was to find out how wrong I was!
“-I liked the pie too… I shared it with a very special person.”
Then I remembered and smiled. I went to his room to bring him the desert.He never liked to eat along with the others.But he felt comfortable with me. I ,in my foolish ambition,was trying to keep a diet(God! For almost 5 years…but no success though.)I told everybody I was a vegetarian(I impressed ,of course,all the nurses).  My main menu was filled with cucumbers and fruits.But he managed to make me feel that my belief was pointless according to his mystical rituals. He was standing while eating and always looking in the mirror.
“-Why on earth are you doing this all the time?Will you ever give up?”I felt a bit angry because I was feeling like a plant,with him never giving me a single glance.
“-I’ll go because I see I’m no use anymore.You stay here with your mirror and I’ll come back later for the plate.”
He didn’t move nor say anything.When I returned, he was painting.
“-You must EAT the pie.I’m sure you can find more sophisticated sources of inspiration !”
“-The pie is yours and what I really want to paint cannot be painted now.”
“-I cannot eat the pie.A diet is made to be followed…Anyway,you are a man,you cannot understand.”
“-If I’ll eat one half and you the other,we’ll become like lovers,right?”
Who was the crazy one here?Him-who was acting like an authentic lunatic or me who was allowing him to play like this with my nerves.On one hand,he had a medical alibi and on the other hand,I was so eager to eat that pie,with no excuse to abandon myself to this kind of carnal desires.A pie is just a pie,but a pie when you are on diet is like a bullet in the head…So,I pulled the trigger.
“- You shouldn’t keep a diet.I heard is only for the fat ones.”
“-This is one of the most subtle compliments I’ve ever received.I’m not sure you are qualified to discuss upon ideal female physical features.”
“-I heard that’s what men are supposed to do.”
“-You heard to many things around here.Going on like this you might get more interested with the men’s supreme madness:women.”
I felt so free to talk whatever with him.Jack knew how to listen but still he gave the impression he has his own unshakable  beliefs.
“-How do you feel after the pie?”
“-Officially;not guilty.”
“-Why did you eat it?”
“-Don’t start with it!I won’t regret it,not a bit.”
“-Would you do it in front of the others?”
“-I start to doubt about your mental disabilities! Yes,I would do it again !”
I thought it as a simple challenge.My strong character was mature enough to support the consequences of my weakness.At the gathering,I had the opportunity to prove this to me and to the others…but I failed it in the most deceitful manner.
“- This week I’ve completed one of the most important works of art, concerning my future carrier as an artist.”…He was so sure that one day,his naïve paintings were going to be revealed to the world in the most fashionable galleries of art.I asked him if he knows any:”I’m sure there are many.”
“-Well,Jack! We would all  be honoured to see it…if that’s OK!”
“-The painting is nothing.I’ve proved myself a very bad artist.You should focus on the subject!”
I was anxious to see what could this  odd man conceive behind my back.Most of the paintings I saw were nothing but flashes of colours(why not admitting,wisely combined,but with no meaning).Everybody  agreed that this man Jack had a bit of a talent hidden behind his lunatic mask,but his daily behaviour made them underestimate his sensitive side.
“-I know that what I wanted to paint cannot be painted.But the fresh air during night can inspire even the most  abstract mind…like mine.”
I thought it’s an illusion.I kept repeating to myself:”What has he done?”In front of all those people,my portrait was revealed without any doubt.”Will they recognize me?” Jack received the applaud like nothing was out of normal.A nurse hugged him:
“-This is good!A masterpiece!Jack, you really have talent!You must promise me that once I’ll lose weight,you’ll do me a portrait like this one!”
“-That’s a promise.”
My life seemed like a stupid episode from a low-quality serial.Blindness was a fashion around here(not that I wasn’t relieved).No one observed that behind those fluid coloured shapes was my face,my smile,my hole life reduced to some ridiculous movements of a brush.He saw everything I was trying to hide.All these years I was quietly playing my role and now he comes with his weird sixth sense and ruins all I had created around my image.In front of him,after only 5 months, I was standing naked from all my secrets.David,the last patient who spoke,had a very short but profound speech:
“-Sex is like urinating:you must do it every day!”
“-David,you are my favourite philosopher!Now ,everybody!Who wants to watch TV comes with me.Some of you might want to sleep so will keep quiet.Come on,David!You’ll get a chance to impress us all again ,next time.”
Jack was still staring at his painting with that critical look in his eyes:
“-I’m not sure it’s complete.”
“-Why did you do that?”
“-That’s what I do:I paint.”
“-And you felt the need to show my portrait to everybody around here…”
“-How do you know it’s yours?”
At that point of our discussion I was thinking to just pack my things and go back to my mother.My brain was twisted and my perceptions seemed like fractals of a disturbed mind.
“-We are having a pathetic dialogue.I know it’s me there and you know it.”
“-It’s not you…But why are you so agitated?”
“-Stop talking like I’m the patient.What would they think about me?That I’ve come here from nowhere,eager to fool around with every lunatic in the building?”
I was getting pretty nervous.
“-Who are THEY ? I see you don’t approve my art.”
“-You’re art is way above average…but I’m NAKED in that piece of art of yours!!!”
“-I respect the woman in my painting. I think  she is …complete.And it’s not you.”
“-You know what…I think you should make some changes in it,enough to hide at least her face.I don’t want others to see me in all my glory,painted in a deviant manner by a bedroom artist.”
“-Others?…You said you’d eat the pie again but I as far as I can see,that stupid diet of yours got you out of your mind.”
“-My diet?…You are talking nonsense and I’m too tired to listen to you.”
I made sure he goes to straight to bed without producing any kind of art.What a day?I’m hanged up naked on his wall and I’m sure that someone spotted the essence of that painting.I’m supposed to help him not to mess with his mind(although my mind is no doing very well either)…
God,it was good! He made me look so pretty and yet so real without ever seeing me in that posture.Amazing!…I think I crossed the line of good manners with that “bedroom artist”.But what can I do?I could not help it.I think I need a long break.

Instead of quiting my job and move to an exotic island,I decided to relax in a more cheaper way: a 30 minutes shower.I hope he will still talk to me tomorrow!
Jack was so simple in appearance but some of his words made you reflect a lot.I got the full meaning of that part with “You said you’d eat the pie again ” ,3 days after the incident…and I wasn’t proud of me at all.With one single line,he reduced me to nothing.The game with the pie was meant to teach me something and I cheated like a scum.
“-Why did I met you?”
“-Do you like Mozart?”
“-Oh,now when I want to have a serious conversation you’re playing crazy!”
“-I think that women are one of the most interesting creatures!”
“-Really(…because you never met my mother)!And how many women you’ve met to develop such a strong belief?”
“-Many enough.”
The nurses at the center were not the best example to support his statement but I trusted him.Maybe in his secret past, he actually tasted the mystery of a woman.
“-Do you find me interesting?”…(After seeing the painting I was sure about the answer,but my ego need it a confirmation).
“-In…some…points of view.”(Again, I was wrong.Jack was remaining silent as I was devoured by his reasonable sincerity.)
“-Like what?”
“-You have that something that can produce inside a man the breathless desire to paint.”
This man in front of me,who spoke this words, was receiving treatment for mental disabilities while out there,thousands of rapers undercover where bringing to knees the sacred concept of “woman”.Jack was not reading to much(except for the Bible).His ideas about life were constantly coming from a silent observation of his surroundings.In some way,we were connected,maybe by this need to be left alone,abandoned in our own contemplation.I always talked just to satisfy the whim of others and I never took it like a personal decision.But Jack knew when I need it him to listen and when it was in my benefit to speak.
Six  months beside a man I knew nothing about ,except a blank name and some weird habits(…but from which I learned so much).I never will be able to explain myself why I refused to be promoted at the major ward and work with the other nurses.I left behind, without a blink ,a bigger salary,new high perspectives and I chosen instead to take care of this man,to complicate my life with a relation (why did I say that word?) I could not explain.
The days were passing and I was not even aware of it.Near him,the clock became the most useless instrument while my imagination was growing wild.
“-I just made the last arrangements at a new painting.If you promise to be diplomatic,I might ask for your opinion.”
“-Why do you feel the need to paint in secret?During the day you always fool around but the products of your night’s "fresh air" are faultless!”
“-What I want to paint cannot be painted when others are around.”
“-Of course! To paint a naked woman, in the middle of the garden,that would be outrageous…” (I felt so close to this lost soul…But what am I saying? I wanted so much to just take me with him,wherever he went when he was running away from the world.)
“-This one is quite obscene but tasteful.”(...he had a quite sweet manner of promoting his art).
I once asked him if he ever made love with a woman.His masculine features and beautiful hands made me think that I was talking with a real heart breaker.
“-David is very fond of this indoor activity.”
“-Sometimes you really make me doubt of you being a wit.Leave David alone with his hobby and give me a simple answer!”
“-I’ve made love once…”(He closed the window and asked me when will lunch be served).
I remembered my first time.A modern experience:tasteless,both blind like moles,just doing what 99% of the population was doing,leaving behind two names and 7 minutes of sweating.God,I wish I could turn back time and act properly!

One of the most tough experiences during my staying here was to call my mother for her birthday.What did I have to tell her?That her brilliant possible lawyer was not just working but actually living in a place named “Heaven on Earth”?Anyway, the torture lasted only few minutes.She was though much more amiable than the last time but still I felt sorry I couldn’t share with her all the things that I’ve been through since I left home.I’m not very talkative but sometimes I just have to take the amount of pressure off my brain and just speak out laud…And for this,God brought me to Jack.
“-Do you want to marry?”(…I’ve asked him even though I wasn’t expecting much of an answer.)
“-My medical record can be used as an excuse for any stupid answer …I don’t think I’m anybody’s type.”
“-Type?Well,getting married is not like buying shoes.You meet that special person then you realise you cannot live without her and to spare both of you from loneliness…you get married.”
“-I’ve made love once…( He looked in the mirror trying to see somebody behind his reflection.) We didn’t even move.”
Who was this man?…A question I never wanted to find the answer because his present ghost was enough for me.I used to think I have substantial memories,thoughts to be proud to remember…Again,I was wrong.He had only one memory that was strong enough to last…because it was about something that nobody could ever take it away from him.And I was there,rewriting my story beside him.
I had to leave him for a few days.Sara died in a car accident.So many questions left without an answer,so many things I never had the chance to tell her.Life gave me the opportunity to rejoice in the company of 3 special friends:God(who despite my vulgar ignorance,was always ready to give me a hand), Jack( once a stranger in my life,now the owner of my past,present and future) and Sara….She was that angel behind the curtain who knew exactly when to appear on stage.One of my existential regrets is that I was never ready to do for her as much as she did for me, one face of mine which I would gladly spit it because I always find myself standing in the middle of my precious universe ,expecting but never giving back.

At the returning,I had the honour to be the godmother of Rosie’s baby boy.She had been a nurse at the center for 5 years and she was about to leave all and move to the country,to take care of Jack(…this was the only name that crossed my lips…)
My patient seemed quite interested of the event.He stood aside but I felt his presence near me all the time.
“-I think you would be an excellent father!”
“-I know…”…This was not the answer I was expecting.
I tried to keep myself at distance from this man,but I ended getting so close to his lunatic nature that I started to wonder whether I’m not falling….but I must not reveal my weakness.I’ve always been the master of my feelings and I will not lose my calm in front of a man who officially depends on me(…even though my existence was balancing in his rhythm).I will never explain nor I have the desire to do it…

As the winter was coming( and some of the patients here were still believing in Santa Claus) all the personnel was trying hard to recreate that atmosphere back from childhood and I was eager to help.
“-It’s my first Christmas among happy people.At home,my mother used to arrange everything in such details that on 24th we were all so tired and far from having a jolly disposition.But I see that here the preparations are actually a funny thing to do.” Indeed,many of the patients were manufacturing paper ornaments for the Christmas tree(once I shown them how to do origami, it begun a real frenzy…and it made me quite proud because for once in my life,I actually did something for others without expecting to receive something back).I asked Jack to paint something especially for this day.
“-I’m working at something else…but I will try to do something…if you want.”
I always wondered where did he come from?How was he when he was a child?Few were the times when I got to look him straight in the eyes(…and then he seemed to dig inside of me).
“-Jack!Do you have brown eyes?”
“-Is this important?”
“-I was just being curious.I want to know you better.I’m here for months and there is so little I know about you.”
“-I don’t feel the same way…But there are brown if that helps you.”
He kept painting in that childish style which by the way,started to annoy me.
”-About that painting…There are more of such kind?”
“-Of what kind?”…His way of running away from the answer was by forcing me to ask for details(…but more details he revealed,less I was to understand him).
“-You know what I mean…With women.”
“-Is that important?”
“-Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you …In fact, I care none as long as I’m not the subject.”
“-Read me a poem of yours!”
“-I’m done with your crazy manner of having a conversation.I have the feeling that we’re not even in the same room…No,I will not read you my poems.They are private(my last piece of intimacy)”.
As I got to cross a bit the boundaries between professional and personal,I started to wonder if he really finds me attractive(not that would have mattered to much).I mean,he painted me naked…It feels like a rape(but in a metaphysical way).Why did he never show me any kind of affection?…Always calm and straight in answers and yet looking at me like I was no secret for him.But the answer came quickly:I must have lost my mind if I think that this man has even noticed me as a real life identity.Yes,he had a fantasy about me but nothing more.Soon I will leave this place,embracing new experiences while he will remain here,with his paintings and his weird way of having lunch…
But meanwhile,I had to struggle not to care so much about whether he feels anything for me or not.I was paid to give him medical assistance not to fix my personal life.
Winter passed like fleeting seconds.One year of my life gone in a flash.I never regretted that I didn’t hold a diary because there were few things worthing to be mentioned…but always proud to remember.

Since my staying here I had filled my notebook with poems(quite inspired thought).I managed to find the courage to read some of them to Jack.
“-Please don’t say anything!Just taste them in silence. I’m far from being a poet.There are just thoughts on a sheet of paper.”
“-But there are your thoughts…”
“-I think so.”…Indeed there were mine.I finally found something that nobody will ever take it away from me.
“-I lack the talent ,I know.But nobody’s perfect.If you promise me to be gentle I might let you comment upon.”
He smiled.I wasn’t even sure if he even payed a little attention to what I read but I was enjoying the conversation,knowing that whatever he will say it will be honest,straight from a heart, stranger to prejudice.
“-I think we are alike.I’m not more crazy than you are(but at least I’m not afraid to show it).”(Of course,you’re not!No one expects anything from you…)
“-What?Crazy?And what exactly suggested you that I have  such a problem?”
“-I liked the poem.I think it’s my type.”A serious  answer from him was a mission impossible.
Most of my silly artistic experiences were about love(lost,found,never revealed,dark…you name it).I haven’t even tasted all of them and yet I find it so easy to write about them.Why did I ever asked for his opinion?Honest or not,he was far from being qualified to judge my form of art.
“-You are not being fair.I always praised your work ,as much as I could ”
“-I am fair…You are not.I don’t need anyone to praise my paintings.I love them  dearly whether you like them or not.And in that painting it was not you.”
He knew that my foolish ego was still rejoicing in pleasure of being the subject of a man’s fantasy.And I was going too wild with the idea .
“-Would you marry me,Jack?”
“-Why?”
“-Just for fun.”…What did I had to lose?It was just an excuse for making conversation during lunch.
“-Get away from the mirror and act maturely.In front of you there’s a woman proposing you.”(The evil in me was messing with him,but I had no idea how will this end.)
“-I made love once…We didn’t even move.”
Was I even having a dialogue?Or I was just talking to myself.He finished eating and asked me if I want to go to the garden.
“-If you want to.I’m sorry,I’ve picked the wrong topic for our conversation.Maybe ,next time,you start.”
That garden became my home.In all those months,I never even felt the desire to visit the world outside the white walls.To see what?Why spoil the magic?I have always found hard to adapt to the speed of our modern society.It just wasn’t for me.To fast for my slow-motion thoughts,to agitated for my already restless soul.The people were nice…maybe I was the problem.I always thought that if I could just find a quiet place to stay and reflect, I would discover so much more about me…And I found it.So leaving it ,even just for a couple of hours,would have meant to disturb my series of revelations.I loved that garden so much!Because of the lilac,the white benches where you could just sit and stop time,because of Jack…Watching him living only to remember each single day that he "made love once" was a privilege.Married people who only talk at dinners and have nothing to share to each other except for bills and shopping lists…And there he was,with his own memory of a strange woman on his lips.The world didn’t care about him,he didn’t bother either…so they were equal.
“-Why do you love her?”
“-I cannot paint and talk.Which one you you want me to do it first?”
I loved this man because he was so amazing in his weird simplicity.
“-In which one would you be more honest?”
“-I’m in both.”…And yes he was.After a couple of minutes I realized that he was allowing me to witness at the conception of one of those masterpieces.He started to paint a face.
“-You are a very nice man.I’m sure you heard it before.I suppose she told you a million times…”(Where was I going with that?…Yes,I was jealous.My once strong belief that I was his secret muse,started to fade.)He stopped a little and I thought he was about to take his lunatic mask again and that our conversation was to stop there.
“-I never asked myself why do I love her…Can you think at a possible answer?”
There was I,receiving questions from this man who had nothing but his own life experience to support his statements.
“-Well,most of the men say: "I like her hair!" or "She has fine legs!" ….Some even claim they are deeply in with a woman’s character(those are very hard to find and even then,it always ends up to a  physical dependence).”
“-Her legs wouldn’t do me any good…”
He challenged me with every word.But I was to tired to meditate.And why meditate anyway?These were his own reflections,impossible to match with mines.
“-Do you miss her?…And this time try to actually talk to me.I feel like I’m not helping you at all.Sometimes it’s better if you set free the pressure.”
“-There’s no pressure.When I miss her,I paint…”
He painted all the time.His room was breathing inspiration.They even tried to distract his preoccupation to something more interactive.I mean,he was along with the other patients only at the gatherings(and even there,I suspected his mind was lost in HER world).But I din’t mind because this way I was having him only for myself.
“-I see you are honouring me with the pleasure to attend at the birth of a new painting?!”
“-You are not going to understand anyway…”…He just underestimated my critical potential in the most cynical manner.
“-You are painting HER and that’s all I need to understand.”
How did this man end up here, in my life and in this center?For the first matter, Sara was owning the fault(her memory came like a sweet vanilla flavour…I was still hoping that life will  bring us together,someday…).But in what concerned Jack’s arriving,I never developed the interest to ask more than what’s the reason for him being here(and they all told me he is mentally disabled-but I’m not sure what that meant in their limited point of view).He seemed to me one of the most natural persons I’ve ever met.Maybe because the first moment I saw him,his figure without a personal history was enough for me…maybe because that’s what I have always wanted…
“-I have the strange feeling that I’ve been here for all my life!”
“-But you have…”
When did he read philosophy?And who is he to give me such an answer?
“-You find it very easy to reflect upon others.You don’t even know me and you barely know yourself.”
“-Are you still on diet?”…I used to be a very understanding person,but his way of facing my acid replies was beyond my human powers.
“-It seems like you are payed to kill me.Yes,I’m on diet for almost 5 years and I’m making great progress.(…what does he know about lies?)”
“-The woman in my paintings is perfect…”
She wasn’t thin at all and was far from being a supernatural beauty…but he loved her in a very strange way.I couldn’t see in her any feature to produce such a strong feeling…but maybe it was her character.
Jack was fascinating when he was painting rubbish.I was almost glad that we shared the same mediocrity in art…My poems were simple and with common topics-his paintings were without meaning and all looked the same.
“-You must want to impress me…Now I see you are using the brush wisely.You don’t have to.Just paint like you always did.”
“-I will never be good enough…It seems I have two left hands.”
“-It’s my fault.I intimidate you.Why are you bothering anyway?She will never see the painting and so,she will never have the opportunity to criticize your talent…I’ll let you alone because I disturb you and I’ll come back later.”
I admired him so much.He was willing to exercise for hours,till bleeding if he had to just to capture the perfect feature.Who was this woman?I doubt she knows that locked up in a care-center,there’s a man who lives only to paint her.I was too hungry to continue my questioning and so I left my Jack in the garden,but I spot him an hour after and he was staring at the unfinished painting,holding his brush like it was his only connection to a world without sounds.For him,images and colours were enough to bring him close to HER.Was she the product of a frustrating mind?Did he created her?

I never told my mother why I left home.I never even told to myself but I was happy were I was and that was important enough to keep me going on.
“-What’s your favourite season?I suppose its summer because you can paint in the garden,right?”
“-When are you leaving?”
He asked the question I was afraid to answer to myself.I had enough money to buy an apartment and get a more sophisticated job(maybe even reconcile my adventurous relation with my mother…).Am I in that faze when I must take a major decision?
“-Why are you asking?It won’t be so soon anyway.” It was for the first time when I was hoping he will change the subject.
“-I must finish that painting.”
He looked at me.He had brown eyes.What a beautiful man!Everything at him was faultless.In that moment I felt the need to write a poem.It was not the poet in me who was devoured by that strong desire…but the woman ,who was,for the first time,ready to be inspired.I loved that man without questioning!There I was,crazy enough to eat that pie and rewrite my own story,with my plot and my characters.
24th March, “I love you”…A poem with a life of her own,not my possession,reflecting without a fault the portrait of a woman whom I was always ashamed of...ME.He could’t stop asking me when will I leave, as I was getting closer to the answer:never. Even though my feelings were growing stronger,I was waiting for the right moment to read him that poem.What if it’s wrong?Will he understand that I’m not expecting anything back?…

I was in the dinning room  when I got a phone call from my mother.I never imagined that if I leave her the number, she will actually call me here.
“-Can I come and visit you?”
Who was I speaking to?
“-What happened?Are you all right?”
“-I’m fine.May I see you?”
And yes, she came,two days after the call.Two different women brought together by…I will never know what.She met Jack.I knew what to expect from her side but his reaction amazed us both.He said nothing,just looked at us with that lunatic figure,like he was trying to capture as much as possible and then go to his room and paint it.I loved him even more!

He was the measurement for my time and I was the comfort for his madness.
“-I made love once…We didn’t even move.”..My Jack,always on the run.Away from who?Sometimes I had the feeling that I was part of his spiritual journey.The difference was that I had to come back and be real while he afforded to stay a bit longer.My choice,I guess.I found the strength to inquire upon his past,hoping that it will bring me even closer.
“-I think my Jack has a secret and he doesn’t want to tell me.Was he ever married?”
“-Married?In his situation?Why do you want to know so much?You’ll only make yourself harm?”(great,now even the nurses where twisting my brain…)
“-Harm?I just want to know more because I happen to like him a bit.He has an interesting personality.I owe him a lot.”
“-That’s bad.Very bad!…Look!He was brought here when he was 15,he spent his every single day alone,painting rubbish(until you came,I don’t know what you did to him) and he will remain here as long as this building will stay tall.End of story.I hope you want to stay here only temporally!You can do much better than this!You have plenty of options!”…Yes,I had… and staying with Jack was the one which I was mostly inclined to chose.I was his patient.Call me weak,call me crazy but beside him,my life was simple enough for me to bare.

The summer was near and our conversations begun to transform in some weird monologues.
“-Where is your fluid inspiration?Let’s go in the garden,maybe you’ll find something there to catch your eye.”…No paintings for days,no words or a sign that he was with me.
“-Hey!Where is my artist?I want to see you recreating the world with colours?” (But who’s world ?Mine?…)I hated him for being so quiet.His silence made me feel very insecure.
“-I’ll bring you some pie…Fine,I give up!I’ll take one for me too!Look what I’m doing for you!”…Never in my life have I seen such a motionless figure.Seemed blind and deaf but yet running to nowhere.I’m a bloody nurse with no talent whatsoever…Where was I when he needed me the most?
“-Jack,I brought you the pie!”…I was so sure that if I read him the poem he might have looked at me.But I couldn’t.He took a sheet of paper(..I though he was going to paint so I gave him the brush eager to help him to come back).
“-Jack!What are you doing?”
I wanted to die ,right there,on the white bench,beside him.The pen in his warm hand was dancing with joy,writing in an endless rhythm…”I love you”.
“-Jack!Stop!You are making me nervous!” …I looked at him with my poor blind eyes as I was struggling to capture as much as possible.He couldn’t stop…
“-Look!I want to read you my poem!Wait!I’m not leaving!” …I begun to cry ,grabbing his hands,wanting him to stop and just say it…
“-Jack!I’m here!Paint me now!”…He kept writing illegible,shivering, hidden behind that lunatic smile,with no chance to get out.I felt off the bench,at his feet,trying to take from him that bloody pen.
“-Jack!Jack!”….

A name.Our name.There was no woman,no lilac,no paintings nor poems.Just Jack. And something that produced inside the terrible desire to love.I inspired and I was inspired.That’s what life is about,right?
Coming from nowhere and then going back ,in the middle of one of the most beautiful seasons…summer.What is it to remember?There was no past,only our present.Something that was mine died along with him…but it was my choice.We made love…and we didn’t even move.