Big feet. Yep. That is the subject of this week’s episode. I loved the style of the art, the comedic implications, so here we are.
Thanks for reading.
Artwork by Oleg Bulakh
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/28Q6zy
DISCLAIMER: This work has not been edited beyond what was done in the video. The goal is to capture a story in a short amount of time and keep it as raw as possible.
The Story
Charcoal clouds stagnated outside the window. It was all Nathan could look at, his eyes caught in that wet cement.
“It only comes out when it storms,” Charlie said.
Nathan smelled disinfectant and old upholstery. “When it storms?”
“Yeah.”
“Why’s that?”
Charlie’s lips made air bubbles. What he always did when deep in thought.
“Hungry for a worm?” Nathan said.
Charlie didn’t laugh. “Because it is.”
The non answer of a child allowed Nathan to free his gaze from the window. “Because?”
Charlie gathered the stiff sheet under his chin. He shivered, so Nathan took off his jacket and laid it over him, arranging the sleeves to his sides and putting the collar just below Charlie’s head.
“Backward Kid is my favorite,” Nathan said.
Still, Charlie didn’t laugh. “Because it’s cold.”
“Does it like the cold?”
“No.”
“Then why wouldn’t it come out when it’s sunny?”
“Because it’s made of the storm. It’s sunny on the inside though. That’s where it hides the sun.”
“Why would it hide the sun?”
“The sun is its heart.”
Nathan touched Charlie’s hand through the sheet. “That makes sense. If I were made of storm clouds, I’d like to keep the sun, too.”
“It’s very cold.”
“Should I bring it my jacket?”
“No. Yours won’t fit.”
“I mean for me, when I go see this flying whale. Why does it fly anyway?”
Charlie shrugged. “It just does.”
“Will you come with me?”
Charlie looked at the ceiling, through it. His skin was a good color, warm tones. His lips weren’t chapped. His eyes were clear.
“I can’t,” Charlie said.
“I know. I don’t want to go if you can’t come with me.”
“You have to.”
“Why?”
“Because the whale will be sad. It’s lonely up there.”
“It’s the only one?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll go.”
Charlie’s lips were pressed together and his eyes were glassed.
“Is it a boy or girl?”
“Neither. It’s the only one.”
“I see.”
The window appeared to confine the clouds. They bunched into colorless gobs.
“Where’s mom?” Charlie said.
Sobbing in the hallway, glued to the bench with a swollen face she couldn’t bear for Charlie to see.
“She went to get a surprise for you.”
That didn’t garner a smile. No change in pulse, and Nathan knew, because he held Charlie’s wrist. Weak blips.
“She’s been gone a long time,” Charlie said.
“I know.”
“I’m hot,” Charlie said.
“You sure?”
A nod.
Nathan took his jacket and laid it on his lap, but when he felt the warmth, smelled Charlie on it, he put it on.
“Are you cold?” Charlie said.
Sweating. A furnace. “Yes,” Nathan said.
“Sorry.”
Nathan almost lost it then, seeing his son there, sorry for something that he had no reason to be sorry for, the bed slowly swallowing him, no matter how hard Nathan held on, with his hands, his mind. His heart.
“It’s not your fault,” Nathan said. Those words broke him, and he turned away from Charlie.
“You don’t have to be sad.”
“I don’t want to, but I can’t help it.”
“But you should be happy.”
Nathan wiped his nose. “No, I shouldn’t.”
“You should. Because you can’t both be sad. It’s lonely. It needs you to be happy. I haven’t told anyone else where to find it. Just you. So you have to be happy. You have to.”
Nathan had never known such pain as smiling in this moment. It burned with hot and cold, and if it weren’t for Charlie’s tranquil expression, he might have believed his mouth was bleeding.
“All right,” Nathan said.
The clouds had lowered on the horizon, reaching rooftops, building, collecting, so much pressure the sky would burst.
Charlie smiled with his teeth, one of those fake-kid smiles but not fake at all. His eyelids drooped. “Are you ready to see it now?”
“No.” Nathan furiously wiped his eyes. He wouldn’t let himself see his son in any way but with crystal clarity.
“It’s ready for you. It told me.”
“Tell it I’m not ready.”
“I can’t.”
“I think you can. Please. For me.”
“He’s waiting.”
“He? I thought you said. . . .”
Charlie lay still. Peaceful. Healthy and strong to anyone who didn’t know. Nathan fumbled with his phone to take a picture because Charlie looked so alive, and he wanted to have that forever. He knew his memory would make mistakes, leave out details, twist the image into something it wasn’t. Instead he threw his phone across the room, disgusted by the thought.
He stormed down the hall, the bench absent of his wife, and he didn’t care.
The parking lot was a wind tunnel. People hurried in from the coming storm with inverted umbrellas. Not Nathan.
He got in his car, weaved through traffic, barreled through red lights, the honks of horns gnats buzzing around his head. Soon he was on the highway, chasing the storm. Its belly sagged to mountaintops, finlike wisps breaking free. To where Charlie had instructed.
His car wasn’t meant for offroard, but he took it offroad anyway, the cab jostling and making the sounds of destruction. A windy, rocky road led to the darkest and fattest clouds, and he sped toward them, hoping the top ended in a sheer cliff and that would be that.
It didn’t. A plateau is where he found himself, flat and broad and safe. He exited the car, faced the wind, and when he couldn’t face it anymore, he sat.
The clouds were so close he could almost touch them. He tried. There was no depth. The sky was a nothingness. And then it showed itself. The whale. It split from the storm in a caress, coasted down to where Nathan sat, close but out of reach.
Two fissures opened up along its belly, showing him the sun it had captured, the heart it would share, and that it would keep him warm, because the storm was cold.
Like Nathan, who took in the sight with tears the wind wouldn’t let him have.
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