Family portrait 1 by Helen Norton, from the series of paintings “ Once Upon a Time there was a Man”, published in 1995.
Part 1:
“Hey Marcus!!! What’s up with you?”, a voice echoes from the back of the bus. Marcus turns his back and scans the bus, faces and faces pass through his eyes as he looks for the voice that called him, he knits his brows into a frown. A figure walks toward him, a girl with blond hair, blue eyes, skin as white as snow. “Eliza?” Marcus shouts.
“Yeah, it’s been such a long time. How are you?” Eliza says. “I heard you are a journalist now, and also a father as well!”.
“Almost, my wife, she is a few weeks away from labor. And yes, journalist now. How about you? How have you been?” Marcus says.
The bus keeps moving. As for the sky, it is gloomy without any sunlight. The usual London’s winter. The coldest is in the air, it’s frigid as it cuts and penetrates people’s skin. Marcus, a slender little creature, seems big in his black and thick buff jacket. As for Eliza, she wears a white jacket with fur around it’s big hood.
“I am good. Just busy. You know: job, life, money-all them stuff.” Eliza says as she sits down next to Marcus.
“Where are you heading?”
“Just to visit a friend. An old friend that I haven’t seen for a long time, just like you.” Marcus said
“It has been so long. We really need to catch up. But a father, huh? Can not believe that one day ‘the Marcus’ is going to become a father.” Eliza says.
Marcus leans back on his chair as he looks out the window of the bus.
Time passes uneventfully as they both chat for a bit more as the bus keeps moving.
“Oh, this is my stop.” Marcus says as he quickly presses the stop button to notify the bus driver.
“It was really nice to see you Eliza. Just give me a text anytime. You; my wife and I should go for a coffee sometime.”
“That would be lovely Marcus. I will for sure do that.” Eliza says.
It’s true that it’s been a long time since Marcus saw Eliza or any of his University friends. It’s been 5 years now, he thinks to himself. An expression of utmost sadness appears on the face of the soon to be father. “How things had changed” he talks to himself.
He was different back then, he was young, lived with dreams and ambition. Memories about the past flood his brain as he keeps walking down Westminster Rd. He is familiar with this street. Back then he used to walk through these houses when he was a young boy until he went to University . Now as he glazes the scene he realizes how scary and sad they are. House after house with the same construct: on the outside it looks at least 100 years old, you can see the wild weeds hugging each houses tightly, a small front yard (if you can call it a front yard) is presents at the front of every houses, a place to put huge garbage bins and plants that look like they haven’t been taken care of for a long time. Truthfully, they were so messy he didn’t know if they’d ever been taken care of. The colors of each house are cold, varying from grey to light blues. Chick weeds and couch grass had grown between the edges of the sidewalk of the street, it seems they often quarreled over the matter of space with the dirty and old cars parked around.
Marcus stops at a gray color house, number 88 on its door. He knocks three times and waits. No one answers. He knocks three times again, no one answers, he knocks again three times,…
“Wait a minute,” a voice screams out from the house. “Can I just please walk to the door? Don’t you habe any patience?”.
An old man opens the door.
“Marcus?” he cries.
“Hi dad, it’s been a long time,” Marcus says. “Sorry for the surprise, I hope I didn’t scare you or anything. I just want to talk for a bit. May I come in?”
The old man steps to the side and uses a hand gesture to signal Marcus to come in. The hallway of the house is narrow. The floor is made out of wood, you can hear the sound of cracking as you take each step. From the front door to the living room only takes about ten straight steps. Marcus beelines into the house, walking straight to the living without a look at any other things. A white sofa and a 32 inch Panasonic TV facing each other are present in the room. Mr. Bean is playing on the TV.
“Cannot believe you still watch this show dad.” Marcus says as he sits down onto the sofa.
“It was your favorite,” Marcus’s dad says. “It really has been a long time, hasn’t it?
“So what brought you to me today?”
“Straight to the problem huh? It looks like you will never change after all,” Marcus says in the most ironic voice, looking down into his hands now holding each other tightly.
“ You know, I met Eliza on the way here. How funny? It must be my destiny to meet old friends today.” Marcus continues passionately.
“ I came here to tell you that I am going to be a father soon.”
Marcus moves his sight from his shaking hands to his dad now standing at the hallway looking in
“I came here also to tell you that I want to and will be a better father than you’ve ever been.”
“Is that it? You came all the way here just to tell me that?,” Marcus’ dad states. ‘Trying’ is the effort from both to appear at ease and to behave as calmly as possible.They both look at each other for a moment, then Marcus’s dad slowly walks to his son and sits down on the white and soft sofa.
With an awkward look on his face, Marcus’s dad puts his hands on his thigh and sits straight looking at the TV. “I am sorry son. I should have done better, I know. I …”
“No, I don’t want to hear it. I didn’t come here today to hear it. I just want to tell you that,” Marcus says.
“I will be off now.”
He quickly stands up and walks out of the room, his dad, like a dark ghost among darker boughs, left alone in the room.
Tears start to appear on his face, his breathing at that moment seems to have a rhythm of their own. The houses outside seem now: sad and cold. Somehow it amplifies Marcus’ feeling; weeds grip tightly to each and every house, plants that look scary, huge garbage pins. The chill in the air trying to penetrate Marcus’s skin, the only thing protecting him was his big buff jacket. He trips and falls to the ground, his body appears to have no power as he tries to quickly stand up. Straight away there comes upon Marcus something – unexpected, weird and frightening: a feeling of aloneness? or a longing for a triumph feeling that he thought he would get after doing this.
Part 2:
“I will do it today” in the morning.
“I will do it tomorrow” in the evening.
These two are thoughts that Marcus has when it comes to spending more time with the family. It’s been sometime since he went to his dad’s place.
My dad was a man of art: a painter, a person who lives in the moment as they say. Words goes: my dad was a man without discipline; one time he did manage to land an office job, a well paid one enough to provide for the family, but due to his ‘artistic instinct’ he soon quit the job in order to paint, sing and live his passion. It goes without saying, this led to my family’s poverty. Marcus finds himself drifting in and out with his thoughts as he sits at his work desk looking at his computer screen. A woman dresses in her black dress, rosy-cheeked, glasses on, comes across the office and taps Marcus on his shoulder.
“You are daydreaming again.” she says.
“I am sorry, Sarah. Don’t know what’s happening to me nowadays.” Marcus said. Words are spoken in a tired tone.
“You are just exhausted. It is 9pm already, you should go home Marcus. News and reports can wait until tomorrow.”
“No, No. I want to finish this report today, you know, just trying to…”
Sarah abruptly cuts him off, shushing him as he tries to finish his sentence.
“I am your boss. And I am telling you to go home.”
Marcus smiles and pulls off some note paper that he has stuck to his office table and crushes them in his hands.
“Alright, I will see you tomorrow.” he says.
Marcus drives through the streets of London at night. It is quiet to say the least, dark and empty: the light of the moon blends with the dim light of lampposts, the sound of wind and the smell of fresh air wafts through, due to the lack of human presence. Everyone must be with their family by now, the only ones that are on the street by this time are drunk teenagers and homeless. With a slow and steady gesture Marcus parks his car in front of his house: a two level house with a green front yard, white in color and next to it a garage that can fit two cars. There are four windows that you can see from the front view. Through the windows on bottom left, the light in the kitchen room is still on. After parking the car, Marcus has a thorough look at his car, checking if there are any dirt or scratch marks on it.
With an exciting feeling, he opens the door and shouts: “I am home”, hoping that his daughter or his wife will answer his call. But there were none.
“I am home” he shouts again, and again no one answers. An expression of confusion forms as he looks around and checks if anyone was at home. The hallway was big and the floor made out of granite, you can’t hear any footsteps if the person walks slowly. It will take a person more than 10 steps to reach the living room from the main entrance door. Marcus seems lost in his own house as he goes and looks around every corner of his house like it is the first time he’s been here. Finally he reaches the kitchen, where his wife is sitting at the dinner table staring at a corner of the room. Foods are on the table, but it is already cold.
“There you are honey, I haven been looking everywhere for you.” Marcus calls.
“You don’t remember don’t you?” his wife says with a rather low and smooth voice.
“What?” Marcus says
“It is our daughter’s…” as his wife was saying Marcus abruptly interrupts her sentence
“Birthday. It is Elizabeth’s birthday today. Oh shit, I totally forgot. I am so sorry,” Marcus cries
“I was too busy with work, I am so sorry..”
“Don’t. Just don’t Marcus. This is not the first time you do this. Always busy and busy.” his wife says
“What do you mean? I didn’t mean to do it.” Marcus says
“Really Marcus? You really didn’t mean it? So why does this keep happening? Why even for the sake of your daughter can’t you even appear at her own birthday? Huh? Why Marcus? Why?” His wife says as she looks at Marcus’ eyes with the utmost anger.
“ WAIT!!! please don’t. I just got home. Can I please just have a moment for myself?” Marcus shouts.
“ No, you don’t get any minutes. Please explain to me why!” His wife shouts.
“I am doing it for this family!!!!, can’t you see? I want to provide for you guys! I want to give you guys money, food, safety, etc. I want to give you guys more and more. That is why I do it!”
“No! You are doing it for yourself. Don’t you dare lie. Don’t you dare say it is for us,” his wife shouts as she stands up and walks quickly to Marcus.
“You dont fucking care for us. But I am tired Marcus, so do as you please.” His wife says these words, looking straight at Marcus’ eyes. Then she walks out of the room. Leaving him like a dark ghost among darker boughs, left alone in the room. He sits down on the chair of the dinning table, leaning back on his back, looking at the cold food on the table with his Black custom made suit, a pair of Khaki pants, with a black leather Oxford shoes.
“I will be a better father than you; I am sorry son. I should have done better, I know. I …” these words come across Marcus’s mind as he sits in his dungeon of a house.