Serial 3

VI

Phillip let his mind wander as he made his way across campus towards his studio. It lifted off the ground, out of his body, and away from the steps of his feet. It floated back to Renee’s garden, wondering where the grass man might have gone. It searched his memory for some discrepancy, something he had forgotten that could explain its absence, but it found none. Then, there were the birds from the art show. They had gone too, just as mysteriously, and even before them, there had been the sculpture that had apparently been smuggled out of his studio window. Pieces fell into place within Phillip. He felt close to an answer, but his mind shrank back in terror from it, Frightened, it flew back into his body, away from the disheartening truth.

 Phillip had walked nearly halfway to his studio by now, entirely on autopilot. He happened to glance over at an empty property just off of campus. There were normally tall grasses growing there, but apparently they’d been mown down for the show the night before. Now, the grass was cut short, barely long enough to wave in the October wind. On a whim, Phillip changed directions and began to walk quickly towards the yellowed field.

The grass scratched at his ankles as he searched. It still smelled like fresh-cut grass. He strolled around for a while before he found what he was looking for. There was a stack of trash bags hidden from campus behind an old barn in the middle of the field. When Phillip opened one up, he found handfuls of newly mown, golden blades. Like a key meeting its long-lost lock, ideas within Phillip came together to bring in new ones. He was gone. All thoughts of anything else fled his heart, and Phillip was left to explore this new room within himself. He grabbed as many of the bags as he could carry, and headed back towards campus.

VII

Phillip hardly saw Renee over the next few weeks. The deep urge of artistry was running strong inside of him, leaving room for nothing else. He wasn’t very attentive in classes and all of his waking hours were spent in the studio. He’d even brought some blankets and pillows there so he could work until he could no longer hold his head up if he wanted. He felt as if he were possessed. Eventually, Renee showed up at his studio door, knocking.

“Hi Renee,” Phillip said, opening the door.

“Um-Phillip,” she said reaching forward to pick a yellow strand out of his hair, “Are you aware that you’re covered in straw?” Phillip hooted with laughter. It took him a moment to regain his composure enough to reply.

“Yeah, I’d noticed that.”

“Can I see what you’re working on?” Renee poked her head in curiously.

“Sure,” Phillip said, stepping back to let her past.

“So, I guess this whole grass man thing really took, huh?” Renee grinned at him. Phillip grinned back. In front of them was a bright yellow, nearly life-sized man made entirely of grass clippings. Sitting on Phillip’s work table were the half-made prototypes; there was a little doll with lumpy features, a small ballerina awkwardly long limbs, and several swatches of different weaving and knotting techniques. The end product in the center of the room certainly wasn’t complete. There were still thin patches here and there, and Phillip hadn’t even gotten to the hands yet. There were a couple of attempts at digits on the work table, but they were mostly clumsy looking.

“I’m thinking about leaving the top of his head like that,” Phillip said, indicating the gaping hole at the top with wild loose pieces of straw sticking out at odd angles, “If I did, I think I’d call it ‘Brainless’.”

Renee giggled, but then looked at Phillip seriously and said, “This is awesome in the most traditional sense of the word.

“Thank you,” Phillip said, smiling at her.

“Don’t rush it, but I’d love to see the finished product soon. I can’t believe you kept him hidden from me until now,” she scolded. Phillip chuckled.

“Trust me, if you’d have seen him a few days ago, you would have thought I was either blind or an idiot for thinking I should persevere. I got most of the fine details done between then and now.”

“Well, it’s incredible.” They stood together admiring the piece for a moment, and then Renee went on, “So, you’ve been so busy with this that you haven’t even taken the time to tell me what happened with Charles. Did he call you?”

Phillip felt his stomach plummet deep into the recesses of his legs. His eyes went wide in horror, “Oh my God! I don’t even think I’ve checked my answering machine in two weeks! What if he called? He’s gonna think I’m such an asshole!” Phillip looked at Renee in desperation.

“Well go check your messages,” she said in exasperation. Phillip was out the door before she could say goodbye.

Puffing with exertion, Phillip arrived in his room. He swore quietly to himself when he saw the little red button on his answering machine blinking angrily. He hit the play button, and listened as the tape inside the machine began to spin. Both Renee and Phillip’s parents had called him on multiple occasions (Phillip moaned a little when he heard his mother’s third message; she was not going to be happy with him).

“Hey,” Charles’ voice rang out of the machine, and Phillip was all ears “It’s Charles. I wanted to let you know how much I loved your show. Call me if you want to hang out.” Phillip grabbed a pad and pen and jotted down the number. There was a moment’s hesitation when he was uncertain of whether he should call Charles or his mother first. His mother was going to be angry…

Phillip dialed Charles’ number. He felt his chest tighten with each ring.

“Hello?” Charles’ voice was enough to make Phillip want to hang up and find a nice corner to crawl into to hide his shame.

“Hey. It’s Phillip.”

“Oh, hey Phillip. How are you?” Phillip could hear the smile on Charles’ face. He relaxed, but only a little.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Phillip rubbed the back of his hair nervously, “ I’m really sorry I didn’t call you. –I -, well I’ve just been really caught up in work, and didn’t even think to check my messages until now. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it at all, Phillip,” Charles said.

So, I was wondering if you’d want to go do something this weekend.”

“Of course,” Charles sounded genuinely excited; Phillip relaxed a bit more after that.

“Awesome,” Phillip said, “How about we meet somewhere in town on Saturday. Does the park work for you?”

“The park? Sure. Why don’t we meet at the bridge? I’ll bring some food or something,” Charles said.

“Ok. Great,” Phillip said, “So, I’ll see you then I guess.”

“Yeah. Ok. Awesome! Bye.”

“Bye.”

Phillip hung up the phone. It dawned on him that he had what could quite possibly be a date. Phillip whooped, and jumped up onto his bed, dancing wildly to music that wasn’t there. He fell back onto the bed in exhaustion.

“Ahem.” Phillip looked up to see Renee standing in his open doorway, a bottle in her hand, grinning. “You appear to have started without me, but I believe this calls for a celebration.”

Phillip waved her in, and taking the bottle said, “Sparkling water? You are such a goody-two-shoes.”

VIII

Saturday came, and Phillip was almost to the bridge that he and Charles had decided to meet at. He’d stopped for coffee on the way there. He’d decided to buy Charles a cup of black tea, because that just seemed more like him than coffee did. The lawn of the park had a vibrant fall afghan of red and orange stitching tossed over it, and above Phillip’s head, the trees showed off their latest autumn fashion. It was a cold morning, so only the committed joggers were out.

Phillip had left early to make sure that he would get there before Charles, because he didn’t want to keep him waiting. He danced a little bit on the path as he walked; a tape recorder in his pocket, and The Beatles singing through his headphones. He turned the corner and there was Charles waiting for him on the bridge. He looked content enough, leaning on the wooden arch staring down at the creek below, a little smile on his face. Phillip tried to hide how disappointed he was to be the second to arrive as he walked up. Charles saw him coming and smiled widely enough to show his molars.

“Hi, Phillip,” Charles reached out and hugged him. Phillip felt his stomach kick violently against his ribcage.

“Hey, Charles,” Phillip relaxed into the smell of Charles, and then the hug was over. “Here, I thought you might like some tea. It’s so cold.”

“Thank you so much,” Charles said, beaming. He took a sip and went on, “Where do you want to eat this?” He bent over and picked up a dark blue backpack at his feet. “I just packed some crudités for us.”

“Crudités, eh? Aren’t we fancy.”  Phillip’s lips turned up slyly as he nudged Charles’ shoulder, “Come on.” They made their way across the bridge and towards a little cluster of benches in the distance.

They sat down, and Charles began to pull food out of his bag.
            “This is hummus and there are some chopped up veggies in here,” he said, pulling out a tupperware container, “And I’ve got a couple of slices of cake wrapped up for later.”

“Ok,” Phillip said, not sure at all of what exactly hummus was, but deciding that it didn’t really matter.

 “Wow,” Phillip said, “Thank you so much! I can’t believe you did all of this.”

Charles laughed. “You’re welcome. Go on, have some.”

Phillip took a piece of the broccoli, and following Charles’ example, dipped it into the hummus.

“This is really good!” he said, hoping desperately there was nothing green in between his teeth.

“Thanks,” Charles said, “So do you like ‘Toad the Wet Sprocket?’”

Five hours later, their stomachs full of Charles’ food, their conversation was still going strong.

“So she ran out of the store after you?” Phillip hooted incredulously.

Charles laughed, “She thought I was stealing something from her store. Given the situation, I don’t blame her, but it was awful! All of the employees lined up along the windows, their faces pressed up to the glass like this.” He widened his eyes comically and let his draw drop as low as possible. They both fell back reeling with laughter. It took them a minute to stop. When they did, Phillip wiped his wet eyes and then laid his hand on Charles’ leg.

“Charles, this might be the most fun I’ve ever had,” he said.

Charles’ cheeks flared red under his dark hair, “I’m having a really good time too.” He paused for a moment, looking at his watch, “I think I should probably be getting back home though. I’ve got an essay to write on the reconstruction before school on Monday.”

Phillip felt his face fall for a moment, but he forced himself to reconstruct the smile he’d had before. “That’s ok,” he said, “Do you want to meet up again sometime?”

Charles nodded emphatically. “Of course! This has been great. Maybe Wednesday?”

“Yeah,” Phillip said, “Wednesday sounds good.” They just sat there and smiled for a moment, then, Phillip looked down at his hand on Charles’ thigh. “Charles-this might be a really dumb question…are we dating?

Charles nudged Phillip’s face up with his finger, “I’d say so.”

They kissed briefly, and then Charles left. Phillip stood up, looked back down at the bench they’d been on, and sighing relaxed into it again, letting himself pretend that Charles was still there.