Act 1, Scene 15

MELI

I’d never been more lost than when that first semester ended –even more than when it started. I knew nothing of art, really. All my “work” was a series of pretty puddles, all looks and no depth. It disturbed me so much that one night I snuck a crowbar into Fede’s head and forced open the locked apartments out of some confused rage.

One was a home for a small family, barely furnished, but with piles of books on every corner. There was a room for the parents and one for a boy, though I couldn’t find any kind of toys. Where he grew up, I suppose; he didn’t like talking about it. Hell, it wouldn’t be years till I met his parents.

The second one was like a museum exhibit: lights pointing to a mural hung on the far wall. There I was, triumphant like a cosmonaut holding a paintbrush as if it were the Hammer or the Sickle. On my other hand I held Fede’s head to my side, which appeared to be in the most peaceful dream. On a closer look, the tiling where the mural was painted over told another story, one where a giant statue had been brought down and the Workers stood victorious over it.

I closed the door blushing and smiling like a maniac, then my joy turned to embarrassment; it might have been something I wasn’t meant to see. The shame then increased when I subtly asked Fede if he had seen something about him in my head.

“Nothing in particular”, he said.

I got so angry at myself that I told him I loved him for the first time, which had been true for a while now. ¿What was going on with me that wouldn’t show it within? ¿Was something blocking me? ¿Was I just that self-absorbed and superficial?

See, a big chip on my shoulder was the shame of taking so much from the world and not knowing how to pay it back.

This moment spurred me further. I’d change the scales, somehow.

Man, poor Fede, my beatnik style of that season apparently meant no furniture inside my head.

            END OF SCENE